DR. BILKS’S BABY.
No one suspected Dr. Bilks of anything; and if his memory had not been
so utterly treacherous respecting his obstetric patient “beyond the
Point,” his testimony would have been faultless. It would have added to
his credit as a man and as a physician; for while he spoke the whole
truth, he was tender of his friends, and he appeared to be unbiassed,
just, and reasonable. No one had said a word against the doctor; no
one had whispered a breath of suspicion upon his character. All the
evidences against him were his bad memory, and his condition as he came
down from the stand.
Eugene Hungerford was called next. He confirmed all that Dr. Bilks had
said about the plan to procure the re-marriage of Mary, and explained
Ross Kingman’s state of mind just before the murder. His testimony
simply showed that, with others, he did not believe she was the wife of
Buckstone.
Dick Birch was called after the deputy sheriff had been examined; and
when he took the stand there was a decided sensation in the court-room.
The audience whispered one to another, and there was a general
expectation that Dr. Bilks’s agency in the affair would be exposed;
that the reason for the severe cross-examination of the popular
physician would be made apparent. The government attorney had wondered,
as much as others, why the junior counsel for the defence had pressed
the doctor so sharply on an apparently unimportant point, and he hoped
that the mystery would be probed.
“Mr. Birch, you were intimate with the prisoner, and with all the
parties connected with the murder?” said the prosecuting attorney, when
the usual preliminary questions had been disposed of.
“I was; the prisoner, with myself, was in the employ of Mr.
Hungerford,” replied Dick.
“When did you see him last before the murder?”
“At the house of Mr. Hungerford, about nine o’clock on the evening of
the murder.”
“How did he appear?”
“As usual; I saw him but a moment, as he was leaving the house.”
“Did you see him after the murder?”
“Not till I saw him in the jail this morning, as one of his counsel.”
“You wished to procure the re-marriage of the prisoner’s sister?”
“I did.”
“You had made an arrangement for this purpose?”
“With Mr. Hungerford--I had.”
“Did you speak to the prisoner about it?”
“I did not.”
“Why did you wish to procure the re-marriage of the murdered man with
the prisoner’s sister?”
“For two reasons.”
Dr. Bilks had by this time recovered his self-possession and his bodily
strength. His seat in the court-room was near that of the government
attorney, and he was observed to be working his chair nearer and nearer
to the questioner. The doctor was nervous and uneasy. He realized the
awkwardness of his situation--to use the mildest term applicable to it,
and those who observed the movements he made concluded that he had some
suggestions to offer. When the attorney for the government put the last
question, Dr. Bilks, who was leaning over the table with a pen in his
hand, wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper. After the disagreeable
impression he had produced by his evident prevarication on the stand,
it would be quite natural for him to attempt to do something to redeem
himself. It was supposed that he was now engaged in this work.
The government attorney was in a confused state of mind, and was now
feeling his way. There was something covered up--something he could not
understand; and when he saw Dr. Bilks working towards him, he expected
some hint or suggestion which would enable him to find the truth.
“For two reasons, Mr. Birch. Name them, if you please.”
“I desired the marriage, first, for the lady’s sake. Her position was
at least a doubtful one; I desired to heal her wounds.”
“Very praiseworthy, no doubt, Mr. Birch. What was the other reason?”
“I was afraid Mr. Hungerford would marry her himself,” replied Dick,
desperately, for it required no little effort for him to say this in
open court.
“Then Mr. Hungerford had been attached to this lady before her supposed
marriage with the deceased?”
“He had been.”
“Why did you suppose he would marry her, after her connection with
Buckstone?”
“Because his interest in her remains undiminished.”
“Did Mr. Hungerford ever mention such an intention in his letters to
you from Europe, or in conversation?”
“He did not.”
“Did you think you had good reasons for believing Mr. Hungerford would
take such a step?”
“I felt satisfied that he would, from my knowledge of the man, and
of his state of feeling, if the lady’s marriage with Buckstone was
illegal, or if the union could not be legally established.”
“Did you tell him so?”
“I did not.”
“You were his confidential friend and adviser--were you not?”
“I was.”
“And you did not speak to him of a matter so important?”
“I did not; I intended to do so at a proper time. He reached home from
Europe only a few hours before the murder.”
“But you deemed it your duty to prevent the marriage of Mr. Hungerford
with the prisoner’s sister, if such a marriage should prove to be
possible?”
“I did; I proposed the plan to Mr. Hungerford at once.”
“Did you state to him both of your reasons for doing so?”
“I did not. I did not deem it advisable to do so at that time.”
“Mr. Hungerford assented to your plan?”
“He did.”
“Would he, in your opinion, have assented, if your fears that he would
marry the lady himself were well grounded?”
“I do not believe the thought of marrying her himself had yet occurred
to him.”
“May it please the court, Mr. Hungerford is not on trial,” interposed
Mr. Darling, “and the examination seems to be taking a very wide range.”
“What do you expect to prove by this witness, Mr. Lowe?” asked the
magistrate.
“Mr. Birch will presently testify that he was on the island with Mr.
Buckstone, just before the murder; and I wish to show the purpose for
which he was there,” replied Mr. Lowe.
Dick’s face was slightly flushed at this reply; but he did not
interrupt the proceedings.
“This examination is simply to ascertain whether there is sufficient
evidence to justify the holding of the prisoner in custody on the
charge of murder,” continued the magistrate. “It seems to me this point
has already been reached.”
“May it please the court, there is no evidence, except the partial
acknowledgments of the prisoner, which must be taken with great
caution, that a murder has been committed. As this witness was on the
island at the time of the murder, it is possible that he may have
seen the deed done, or at least seen the body of the deceased after
it was done. This witness has thus far been exceedingly reticent. It
does not appear, though he knew what took place on the island, that he
gave information of the murder that night, or even in the morning. I
wish, therefore, to show his object in going upon The Great Bell with
Buckstone. I wish the court to understand what the deceased was doing
at the time he was killed. It can only be shown by this witness.”
“Go on, Mr. Lowe.”
While the government attorney was making this explanation, Dr. Bilks,
unnoticed, had placed the paper he had written on the table before
him, and on the top of his notes, so that he could not fail to see it.
Mr. Lowe, as he resumed his seat, and glanced at his notes to discover
where he had left off, saw the paper Dr. Bilks had placed there. He
read it, and appeared to comprehend its meaning without explanation.
“Mr. Birch, you do not believe Mr. Hungerford had yet thought of
marrying the prisoner’s sister?”
“I do not believe he had--of course I do not know.”
“Mr. Birch, what are your relations in the Hungerford family?”
Dick explained them.
“Of course you are acquainted with Miss Julia Hungerford?”
“I am;” but Dick blushed, as well he might, when Julia was dragged into
the court.
“What were your relations with her?”
“I had no relations with her, except those of ordinary courtesy and
friendship,” answered Dick, indignantly.
“Did you correspond with her while she was in Europe?”
“I did.”
Mr. Darling objected very earnestly; but Mr. Lowe was able to show to
the satisfaction of the thick-headed magistrate that his course of
examination was absolutely essential to the prosecution.
“Mr. Birch, has Miss Julia Hungerford any fortune?”
“She has--twenty thousand dollars left her by her uncle.”
“Has she any expectations, real or contingent?”
“If her brother, at the age of thirty, has no son, named John, she will
come into possession of half a million.”
Dick knew what was coming, and he braced himself for the issue.
“Mr. Birch, have you intended, expected, or desired to marry Miss
Hungerford?”
“I object, your honor,” protested Mr. Darling, with as much violence as
respect for the bullet-headed magistrate would permit.
Again Mr. Lowe explained that this evidence was essential to establish
the fact of, and the provocation for, the murder; and again the
blockhead on the bench permitted him to proceed. He repeated his
question.
“I neither intended nor expected--I desired.”
“Have you not acknowledged that you were attached to her?”
“In the confidence of friendship, I did,” he replied, glancing at Dr.
Bilks, who was now having his revenge for the severe cross-examination
to which he had been subjected, and under which he had been so terribly
exercised.
“Was there anything to prevent your marriage with Miss Hungerford--are
you aware of any impediment?”
“I am not.”
“Would her mother or her brother have objected?”
“I think not.”
“The marriage, then, was possible, and even probable?”
“It was possible.”
“Was it not probable?”
“I am not capable of judging.”
“You were attached to the lady, and you are aware of no impediment. Did
you not, therefore, expect to marry her?”
“I hoped to do so--I hardly expected it.”
“You intended to marry her--did you not, Mr. Birch?”
“I could not intend to do what it was not possible for me to do alone,”
replied Dick, with entire self-possession.
“On your own part, then, you intended to marry her, and you knew of no
impediment? Was this your position?”
“It was then, but it is not now?”
“Why not now?”
“These events have made it impossible.”
Even the magistrate, who sat, wood upon wood, on the bench, did not
think “this line” was competent, and Mr. Lowe began to draw nearer to
the real question; but in the course of his explanation to the court,
he artfully reviewed the point he had apparently established--that the
witness wished to prevent Hungerford’s marriage with the prisoner’s
sister, in order that the contingent half million of dollars might come
into her (Julia’s) possession, and thence into his own hands, when she
became his wife; thus showing the strong motives which Dick had for
meeting Buckstone privately.
“Mr. Birch, were you with the deceased on The Great Bell, just before
the murder?”
“I was not.”
“You were not?” demanded Mr. Lowe, apparently confounded by the answer.
“I was not.”
“When did you last see Buckstone?”
“On The Great Bell, nearly a year ago.”
“Haven’t you seen him recently?”
“I have not.”
“On your oath, do you say you were not with him on the night of the
murder?”
“On my oath, I do say so.”
“Where were you at that time?”
“In Mr. Hungerford’s house, at Pine Hill.”
“What time did you retire that night?”
“At about ten o’clock.”
“Did you go out of the house that night?”
“As I was going up stairs, I opened the front door, and stepped out to
see what the weather was.”
“Did you put on your hat?”
“I did not.”
“Did you go out again?”
“I did not.”
The handkerchief and cigar were handed to him, and he identified them
as his own.
“You heard the testimony of the deputy sheriff. These articles were
found in the boat, which must have been the one in which Buckstone and
the other person went over to the island. You say they are yours.”
“I do--they are mine.”
“How came they in the boat?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can’t you explain this singular circumstance, Mr. Birch?”
“I cannot; perhaps Dr. Bilks, who went down upon the Point that night,
can.”
The doctor looked like an injured man, and there was a suppressed
chuckle all over the court-room at his expense.
“I am afraid these articles, in their assumed relations, are as
unsubstantial as Dr. Bilks’s baby,” said Mr. Darling.
The doctor had the good sense to appreciate this palpable joke, though
his smile was rather ghastly and unreal.
Mr. Lowe pressed the witness to the utmost; but he steadily and firmly
denied that he had visited the island with Buckstone, or that he had
seen him since his assumed marriage. He tried him on every tack his
ingenuity could suggest; but Dick did not vary the breadth of a hair in
his statements, and the attorney was compelled to give up in despair.
“Truth is mighty, and must prevail.” Truth was Dick’s god, and his
devotion was so sincere, that it impressed itself upon all who heard
him. It is doubtful if there was a single person in the court-room who
did not believe every word he said. There is that in the truth which
conquers interest and prejudice; and he who adheres to it cannot help
manifesting himself to all who hear him.
Dick Birch was not on the island that night. He had not seen Buckstone
for nearly a year. Eugene Hungerford scorned himself for the doubts
which had grieved his friend; but they were only momentary doubts. This
was Eugene’s triumph. He rejoiced in it, even while he was annoyed and
disgusted by the heartless exhibition of his family relations.
Other witnesses were examined, and Ross Kingman was fully committed to
await the action of the grand jury. No one expected any other result;
indeed, Mr. Darling intended to waive the examination, and would have
done so, if Dick had not protested so strongly against such a course;
for he desired the privilege of cross-examining Dr. Bilks. Of course he
had a theory, but it had not appeared at the examination.
Ross Kingman was borne away to the jail again, and the curious crowd
followed the officers out of the court-room. Eugene remained, anxious
to take Dick by the hand, and have every dark shadow removed from his
path. Dr. Bilks took charge of Mary Kingman, and conducted her to his
chaise.
“Dick,” said Eugene, as soon as the lawyer was disengaged.
“Ah, Hungerford!”
“You have made me ashamed of myself.”
“Don’t mention it. I don’t blame you.”
“If I had a doubt, it was only for a moment. I never had a real,
substantial doubt--certainly not a suspicion--of you, Dick.”
“But I am more under the shadow than ever before.”
“Not with me--not with anybody. My dear fellow, will you forgive me?”
“With all my heart--there is nothing to forgive.”
“Dick, you are all--you are more to me than ever before. I believe
every word you have said. Come, go home with me, and----”
“I cannot do that, Hungerford.”
“Why not?”
“You heard what was dragged out of me.”
“What of that?”
“I have acknowledged the two reasons which induced me to propose the
plan for Mary’s marriage to Buckstone. One was for her sake; the other
still leaves me open to the charge of acting from interested motives.”
“Dick, you never had a selfish thought in your relations with me. I
believe in you as I would in my own mother.”
“Enough, Hungerford!” exclaimed Dick, grasping his hand. “If there has
been any breach, it is healed.”
“Good! that sounds like you, old fellow!”
“I have never wronged you or yours, Hungerford, in word or thought.”
“I know it,” said Eugene, warmly.
“If you had turned me out of your house, I would still have served you,
and thought kindly of you.”
“I have never thought unkindly of you for a moment, Dick. We are the
same now as ever; so come home with me, and we will talk this matter
over.”
“No, Hungerford, I cannot do that.”
“Why not?”
“I should not dare to look Julia in the face after this exposure of my
thoughts. I cannot go, Hungerford, and I will not.”
“This is obstinacy.”
“I can’t help it. She must not even think that I have mercenary
motives; and she can’t help thinking it now. I will not go, Hungerford;
I will not even see her.”
“But you punish her more than yourself.”
“I think not.”
“Why should you punish her, or yourself?”
“It cannot be helped. My self-respect will not permit me to go into her
presence with such an infernal suspicion attached to me.”
This was entirely a matter of feeling with Dick, and he could not be
moved from his position. Eugene unwillingly assented to his view for
the present.
“Now, where is Mary?” asked Dick.
“She has gone back to Poppleton, with Dr. Bilks.”
“With Dr. Bilks!” exclaimed the lawyer, with something like contempt in
his words and looks. “But I must leave you now, Hungerford. You can see
Ross if you like.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Poppleton.”
“We will go together.”
“I do not go direct,” replied Dick. “I shall return by the way of the
Point.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I am going to look for Dr. Bilks’s baby. I am determined that this
baby shall be named after the doctor.”
“Dick, what does all this mean?” demanded Eugene.
“I can’t stop to explain now, Hungerford. I must find that baby before
Dr. Bilks has time to do so.”
“I will go with you.”
“Very well.”
There was a great deal of laughing and sly joking about Dr. Bilks’s
baby, in the vicinity of the court-house, and the expression was
destined to become a by-word throughout the county, though as yet no
one knew what it meant. Hungerford had ridden over to Summerville in
his buggy, and while Dick went for the team, Eugene paid a brief visit
to Ross in his cell. He spoke words of comfort and consolation to him,
and promised to provide the best lawyer in the state for his defence
when the trial took place. Ross was cheerful, and had no fears, except
in relation to Mary; but Eugene told him that Julia had spent the
afternoon of the previous day with her, and assured him she should not
want for friends.
Dick came with the team, and Hungerford took leave of the prisoner,
promising to see him frequently. The relations between our “Damon
and Pythias” were now fully and completely restored. If possible,
the sympathy and confidence of each were increased, though Dick was
still firm in his purpose not to visit Pine Hill, or see Julia for the
present.
“Now, Dick, what induced you to grind Dr. Bilks so unmercifully when he
was on the stand?” asked Hungerford, as he drove away from the jail.
“Before I answer the question, what was your impression of him?”
“If it had been any other man, I should have said he was lying.”
“But, as it was Dr. Bilks, you think he was not lying.”
“On the contrary, I think he was, though I should not care to say so of
him in so many words.”
“I think that was the general impression,” replied Dick, quietly.
“In a word, you meant to make it appear that the baby was a myth?”
“Precisely so. He was not called from his office at eleven o’clock; he
was not in his office at eleven o’clock; he did not go to any house
beyond the Point; and no baby was born under his charge that night.”
“You are very positive.”
“No, I am not; in fact, I know nothing at all about the business,
except that which I derived from what the doctor did say, and what he
didn’t say. In a word, I know no more of where he was, or what he was
about, at the time mentioned, than you do.”
“But you certainly had some reason for driving him to the wall as you
did; of twisting him down till the cold sweat ran out of him.”
“I did have a reason. When I went into your library last night, and
found you there with Dr. Bilks, I knew, before you told me, of what you
had been speaking. He suggested things to you of which you would never
have thought without help. I didn’t like the looks of Dr. Bilks last
night. He seemed to be stepping between you and me. He had a hang-dog
look that was suspicious.”
“I didn’t notice it.”
“I saw him wince once or twice, when certain things were said. This
forenoon I went to see Ross. It was Dr. Bilks who gave him the idea
that I was the person on the island with Buckstone.”
“But after what you had said to him, it was not strange that he should
think so.”
“It was strange to me.”
“But he mentioned my name to Ross first.”
“Perhaps I wrong him; but I did suspect that all was not right. I can
hardly tell what it was that first made me suspicious. It was his
general appearance, rather than any particular thing. The handkerchief
and the cigar expanded my vision a little. Dr. Bilks smokes my
cigars, and I have spent hours in his office. I may have dropped my
handkerchief there. At any rate, my theory was, that the doctor put the
handkerchief and cigar into the boat.”
“Why should he do so?”
“I don’t know; I intend to find out. I have been his friend. I know of
no reason why he should turn this thing upon me.”
“But, Dick, who was the person on the island with Buckstone?”
“Who was he,” repeated Dick, removing his cigar, and glancing at
Hungerford.
“Yes, who was he? That hasn’t come out yet.”
“I don’t think you are as sharp as usual. Who was it?”
“I certainly have no idea.”
“It was Dr. Bilks.”
“Impossible!”
“Who else was it?”
“I don’t know; but what possible motive could Dr. Bilks have had in
hiring Buckstone to renew his marriage obligations?”
“I don’t know; I can’t imagine.”
This point was discussed, not very satisfactorily, till they reached
what was called the “Settlement,” the alleged birthplace of Dr. Bilks’s
baby.