DICK BIRCH’S SUGGESTION.
“Eugene, why doesn’t Dick Birch come here any now?” asked Julia, on the
afternoon of Mary’s departure.
“He was here a dozen times a day when you were sickest.”
“He doesn’t come at all now.”
“Do you wish to see him, Julia?”
“Certainly I wish to see him. Dick was one of my best friends.”
“He is still.”
“He hasn’t even called upon me since I got better.”
“He explained himself to you the night before the examination of Ross
Kingman.”
“You had some suspicions of him.”
“They were all removed the next day, Julia.”
“Why need he have said what he did about me in the court-room? It was
town talk for a month.”
“He was under oath, and it was dragged out of him; but he didn’t say a
word that betrayed a thought of yours, Julia.”
“There was not a thought of mine that he could betray,” said she, with
some spirit. “I always liked Dick very well; but if he had any thoughts
relating to me, he ought to have kept them to himself.”
“Dick is honest. He keeps back nothing.”
“I do not know that I blame him, if he was obliged to say what he
did in the court; but it has placed me in a very awkward position. I
could not walk on the same side of the street with him without exciting
remark.”
“For this reason Dick has kept away from you, refusing even to see you.”
“Do you think he wants to see me?”
“Of course he does.”
“Why is he so fearful, then, of what people will say?”
“He is not, on his own account; only on yours.”
“He is very considerate,” replied Julia, rather ironically.
“He has too much regard for you even to subject you to any annoyance.
For other reasons, too, he would keep away from you at the present
time. He is to be examined to-morrow.”
“Eugene, can it be possible that we have been deceived in Dick?” asked
Julia, with a look of painful anxiety on her pale face.
“No, it is not possible. I can never doubt Dick again. If the charge
against him is proved to my satisfaction, I must believe it.”
“The evidence is very strong--is it not?”
“Yes, that cannot be denied. Just now, it is a question of veracity
between Dick and Dr. Bilks, so far as we are concerned. If you believe
one, you cannot believe the other. The doctor has sworn that he saw
Dick on the Point Road that night; and Dick has sworn that he was at
home, and in his own room.”
“What do you think, Eugene?”
“I do not know what to think, Julia. Since you have been sick, I have
hardly given the matter a moment’s reflection. I have hoped that, by
some means, both their statements might be reconciled; but this is not
possible.”
“Perhaps it may be yet; for I cannot believe that either of them would
perjure himself.”
“One thing is evident, Julia: either Dr. Bilks or Dick Birch is a most
consummate scoundrel.”
“It would be terrible to believe that either was such. I cannot think
that Dr. Bilks would be so base, so vile, as to swear falsely.”
“Can you believe that Dick would be?” asked Eugene, warmly.
“I cannot; but the evidence is very strong against him, and there is
none at all against the doctor.”
“If Dr. Bilks can explain where he was on the night of the murder,
and show me how the letter found upon Buckstone’s body happened to be
written on his paper, I could not reasonably doubt his truthfulness.”
“He says Dick wrote the letter in his office; and he explains where he
was that night.”
“So he does; but when we want Sandy McGuire and his wife, his two
witnesses, they are gone. The doctor drew five thousand dollars about
this time, which, no doubt, went into Sandy’s pocket; for that is the
sum I offered the wretch for telling the truth.”
“Perhaps he can explain all this.”
“Until he does, I shall have my doubts.”
“Think what the doctor has done for me!” exclaimed Julia.
“I do think of it; and I am as grateful to him as you can be, Julia;
but justice must be blind.”
“Poor Dick! I am afraid----”
“Don’t condemn Dick,” interposed Eugene. “He has been at work on this
case from the beginning. The truth will come out in the end; and I am
willing to wait, without prejudice to either.”
Eugene was disposed to be impartial between his two friends. Since Dr.
Bilks had become the demigod of Pine Hill, it was as painful to doubt
one as the other. To the doctor he owed his sister’s life; to Dick, the
obligations of years of friendship. Who could decide between two men
having such claims?
At the appointed time on the following morning, Eugene drove Dick over
to Summerville. They paid a visit to Ross Kingman, in the jail, as they
had often done before during his weary confinement. The prisoner was
still comfortable and hopeful. He had ceased to believe that Birch was
the person he had seen with Buckstone; for Dick’s denial of the fact
was enough for him.
The examination commenced. Dick, with the assistance of Mr. Darling,
conducted his own defence. Much of the testimony was the same that had
been presented at the examination of Ross; but there were many new
faces in the court-room. Hubbard swore that he believed the person he
had seen with Buckstone was Mr. Birch. Dr. Bilks swore positively that
the person was Mr. Birch. Then Dick opened his battery on the doctor,
and dragged out the whole story about “Dr. Bilks’s baby” again; but the
witness was easy and confident this time.
“Dr. Bilks, have you seen Sandy McGuire since you visited him on the
day of Ross Kingman’s examination?” asked Dick.
“I have, several times.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Half an hour ago.”
“Where is he now?”
“Here, your ahnor!” shouted Sandy, from the crowd, to the great
amusement of the court and the audience.
“My patient is also here,” added the doctor, blandly.
“Have you paid this man any money?”
“Divil a cint!” shouted Sandy, which called forth a reproof from the
officers; and Sandy was compelled to repress himself.
“I have not,” replied Dr. Bilks.
“Did McGuire visit you on the day Buckstone’s body was found?”
“He did.”
“Did you draw any money from the bank that day?”
“I did; five thousand dollars.”
“What did you do with this money?”
“Paid this note with it,” replied Dr. Bilks, taking from his
pocket-book a note from which the signature had been torn off.
The document was examined, and Dick felt that one of his strong points
was slipping away from him.
“Is this note in your usual handwriting?”
“It is.”
“Where did you pay it?”
“In New York.”
It would be impossible to make any one believe that the doctor had not
drawn the five thousand dollars from the bank for the purpose of paying
his note in New York. The witness appeared to so much better advantage
at this time than on the former occasion, that what he had lost then he
more than regained now.
Experts were put upon the stand to testify in relation to the letter
found upon the body of Buckstone. They pointed out in what respect it
differed from Dick’s usual handwriting, and in what it resembled that
of the doctor. They were satisfied that the body of the letter, and the
superscription on the envelope, were written by different persons; but
with all the points of difference, and all the points of resemblance,
they were not sufficiently confident that the important letter was
written either by Dick or by Dr. Bilks to establish anything. The
evidence of the experts only created a doubt in the minds of the
magistrate and the people; and partisans on both sides could ascribe
the writing to whom they pleased. Nothing was settled.
The only thing that remained for the accused to do was to rebut the
evidence of Dr. Bilks, if he could. The testimony of Sandy McGuire
and the mother of “Dr. Bilks’s baby” had not yet been introduced--it
was not relevant; but Dick called both of them, and examined them at
great length. Sandy knew just a few facts, and to these he testified;
but he was utterly oblivious of everything else. Either he was more
devoted to the simple truth now than ever before, or he had been
carefully trained to perform the part he acted so well. There were some
discrepancies in his evidence, but they were slight. The mother of the
baby was equally wise and prudent. What she knew was insignificant
compared with what she did not know. She had an astonishingly bad
memory of collateral facts. She had been unfortunate, she said; and
she could not remember the name of the father of “Dr. Bilks’s baby” at
first; and the magistrate would not permit Dick to press the matter.
Though Sandy and this woman were hardly regarded credible
witnesses, they said nothing that absolutely injured Dr. Bilks. The
magistrate--not the one who had occupied the bench at the examination
of Ross Kingman--proceeded to review the testimony. It had been proved
that Mr. Birch was with Buckstone just before the murder; but there was
not a particle of evidence to show that he had been with him at the
time of the murder, or that he concealed the body after the murder. Mr.
Birch had desired to procure the re-marriage of the deceased with Mary
Kingman. He had no motive in desiring the death of Buckstone, and no
motive for concealing the body. If he had any selfish views, they would
have been promoted by the living Buckstone, rather than by his death.
It was at least doubtful whether Mr. Birch wrote the letter found upon
the body of the murdered man. If he did, it proved nothing except what
was already granted. Dr. Bilks was not under examination, and the
rebutting testimony or the doubtful witnesses need not be considered.
So far as the doctor’s testimony was material, it was amply supported
by the evidence of Hubbard, and the acknowledgments of Ross Kingman.
There could be no doubt that Buckstone was accompanied to the island
by a man. Granting that this man was Mr. Birch, was it proved that he
mutilated and concealed the body, or that he even knew of the murder?
Buckstone went eighty rods from the spot where he was seen with Mr.
Birch, before he was killed. The accused may have crossed the channel
at this time, landed where the boat was found, with his handkerchief
and cigar.
On the morning after the murder, Mr. Birch appeared as usual, according
to the testimony of Mr. Hungerford and Dr. Bilks. There was nothing
unusual in his manner. He had always maintained a high character, and
it was difficult to believe that such a man would resort to a measure
so revolting as severing the head from a corpse, in order to conceal
the crime of one in whom he appeared to have no especial interest. Why
the head was removed does not appear, for all the papers, jewelry, and
other articles, remained upon the body, and enabled the finders to
identify it. The head would hardly have added any strength to the proof
of identity. There was not a particle of evidence to show that Mr.
Birch was present on the island, even at the time of the murder; and
“_the prisoner is discharged_.”
The people generally were not satisfied with this decision. If Mr.
Birch had not sunk the body, who had? Some thought the magistrate
was unwilling to expose a brother lawyer to trial on such a charge;
others, that he had eaten too many good dinners with Dick Birch and
Mr. Hungerford; and still others, that he had been bribed to give this
decision. If the result was not what was expected,--and it certainly
was not,--it is more probable that the magistrate used his common
sense, his knowledge of human nature, as well as the evidence spoken by
witnesses. Whether he was right or wrong, the sequel will show to the
satisfaction of the reader.
Without regard to the result of the examination, it was certain that
Dick Birch had not gained anything in establishing his character for
veracity and integrity. Though he was relieved from the terrors of the
law, he was none the less guilty in the eyes of the people. He had not
redeemed himself in the minds of even his best friends, who were still
left in doubt and anxiety.
“Mr. Birch, I congratulate you!” exclaimed Dr. Bilks, rushing up to
him, after the decision of the magistrate.
“Thank you; but why do you congratulate me?” replied Dick, languidly.
“Upon your escape. I knew it would be so. You have compelled me to
defend myself, and I have done so; but I assure you, I have always
regarded you as my friend, and I am rejoiced to find you relieved of
this charge.”
“You are very kind; but I should have preferred to be committed for
trial.”
“Why so?”
“Because the truth has not come out yet.”
“I am very sorry if it has not. My position from the beginning has
been established. Of course I knew you were with Buckstone, but I was
satisfied that it was for a good purpose.”
“Dr. Bilks, as I look at the result just reached, I am ruined.”
“Ruined?”
“My character is spoiled, though I may keep out of prison. If this were
the end, I would go into obscurity, and never show my face among men
again.”
“Nonsense, my dear fellow! You have been vindicated.”
“No; to-day has plunged me deeper than ever in the mire.”
“Mr. Birch, you made some heavy charges against me at one time. You
told me to my face that I was the person with Buckstone,” said Dr.
Bilks, with his heartiest laugh.
“I will not repeat the charge.”
“Do you still believe it?” demanded the doctor, who appeared to regard
the charge as one of the pleasantest of jokes.
“It does not matter now.”
“Birch, let us be friends, as before. I am grateful to you for many
kindnesses; and, whatever your opinion of me may be, I shall always
hold you in the highest respect and esteem.”
Dick was silent. The court had adjourned, and they were almost alone in
the room.
“Have I injured you, Birch?” demanded the doctor.
“You know best.”
“Let us be friends, Birch.”
“Doctor, that can never be. I shall treat you like a gentleman, but you
and I can never be friends. I believe you are my enemy.”
“I am astonished, Mr. Birch!” exclaimed Dr. Bilks; and he looked
astonished. “What have I done?”
“I need not tell you--I will not. Your words, the very sight of you is
loathsome to me.”
“Why should it be so?”
“I believe that, under the guise of friendship for Mr. Hungerford and
for me, you have endeavored to poison his mind; to set him against me,”
replied Dick, with energy.
“Why should I, Mr. Birch?”
“That is best known to you.”
“Mr. Birch, I have been your friend in deed and in truth. I have
never thrust myself in your friend’s way. I seldom saw him before
the sickness of Julia. I have done what I could for her, and my
professional duty to my patient required frequent visits.”
“You saved her life; and for that I am as grateful to you as her own
family.”
“She is well--go and see her, Mr. Birch.”
“Never, until the stains are washed from my good name!”
“You judge yourself, as well as me, too harshly. Julia will be glad to
see you.”
“You know that I love her, and you mock me.”
“Mock you, my dear fellow! I saved her from death for your sake.”
Dick’s face was red with anger. He had already spurned the doctor,
who would not resent his words, and his professions of regard were
repulsive to him. Although he could not prove it, although all the
evidence was against him, Dick Birch could not help believing that the
doctor was a villain, and that, sooner or later, a crash would come,
when men would see him as he was. Dick tried to be politic, and treat
the doctor as a friend, but his nature rebelled against the attempt.
What he was, he appeared to be.
“Dr. Bilks, I think this conversation has been long enough,” added
Dick, rising from his chair.
“Mr. Birch, you have played this game out, and you have lost. You are
disappointed and morose. I am sorry for you; I compassionate your
misfortunes; and I excuse your rude speech. Let me add, that I am still
your friend; when you think better of this thing I shall be happy to
see you; until then, I am your obedient servant.”
The doctor turned on his heel and walked away, not angry, apparently,
but disappointed to find that the issue of the trial had not removed
Dick’s unpleasant manner towards him. Eugene had gone to the hotel for
his horse. When he returned to the court-house he found his friend in a
very unamiable frame of mind.
“Dick, you are not satisfied,” said Hungerford, when they were seated
in the buggy.
“I am not; I never was farther from being satisfied in my life,”
replied Dick.
“You have been discharged.”
“Discharged!” exclaimed Birch, bitterly.
“You ought to be satisfied with the result, so far as it goes.”
“Are you satisfied with it?”
“I am.”
“Then you are not my friend.”
“I am your friend, and it is for this reason I am satisfied.”
“Am I not still a liar in the eyes of the people? Am I not liable to be
arrested for perjury, at any moment?”
“There is no danger.”
“I do not fear an arrest. I do not care for that. Hungerford, can I be
satisfied to be regarded as a liar and a perjurer?”
“Of course not.”
“Will you associate with one who stands before the community branded as
a liar?”
“Don’t disturb yourself about me, Dick; I am still your friend.”
“If Dr. Bilks is not a scoundrel, I am!”
“Not at all. It is possible, it is probable, that both of you are
honest and true men.”
“Impossible!”
“So far as you and the doctor differ, it is possible that he is
mistaken.”
“Mistaken, Eugene Hungerford! Am I a fool, as well as a knave? Did Dr.
Bilks write that letter to Buckstone, or did I write it?” demanded
Dick, with something like fierceness in his tones and manner.
“No matter who wrote it.”
“It is matter. You cannot help believing that one of us is a villain.
If I wrote it, I am no more worthy to look you in the face and call you
my friend!”
“Dr. Bilks has rendered us a great service, Dick----”
“Do not remind me of that; I know it. I am as grateful to him for that
as you are; but truth and justice come before even the life of the one
we love best.”
“Must I condemn him?”
“Him or me! If you believe he did not write that letter, you must
believe I did.”
“I will not decide.”
“I say I did not write it. There is no room for a mistake here. Do you
believe me, Hungerford?”
“I do, Dick.”
“Then is Dr. Bilks condemned?”
“Not at all. A third person may have written it.”
“That is not possible.”
“Dick, you say the envelope was the one in which you sent your letter
to Buckstone?”
“There is no doubt of it.”
“Where could Dr. Bilks have obtained it?”
“From the dead body of Buckstone.”
“That is absurd.”
“Dr. Bilks is the man who severed the head from the body, and sunk it
in the channel,” said Dick, fiercely.
“Why should he have done this?”
“I don’t know. There is a mystery which I cannot fathom yet; but I will
fathom it. I will probe this matter till the daylight shines through it
in every direction.”
“I cannot believe that Dr. Bilks had anything to do with the murder, or
with the body.”
“Dr. Bilks saved Julia’s life--God bless him for that! I ought not to
ask you to decide between him and me,” added Dick, sadly.
“I hoped there would be peace now; that both of you would be content to
wait till time should solve the mystery. Dr. Bilks expresses himself in
the kindest terms towards you, Dick. He assured me, a week ago, that
you would be discharged; and certainly no man could have been more
gratified with the result to-day than he was.”
“He is a hypocrite. If he was gratified, it was only because the mark
of Cain is upon me, and he asks nothing more for me.”
“You wrong him, Dick.”
“On my soul, I do not! He is a miserable, sneaking villain!”
“Come, Dick! This does not sound like you.”
“I speak only the truth; but forgive me, Hungerford; he is your friend.”
“He is,” replied Eugene, firmly.
Dick was silent. He felt that he was condemned. But he was considerate
towards his friend. He realized that Eugene’s eyes were blinded by the
services which Dr. Bilks had rendered his sister. He could not blame
him--he did not.
“Hungerford, I submit with what resignation I can command to my fate. I
shall leave Poppleton to-morrow.”
“Leave, Dick!”
“Yes, for a time--perhaps forever. I shall attend Ross Kingman’s trial,
at Summerville.”
“Why should you leave?”
“Why should I stay? There is nothing more for me to do in Poppleton.”
“Attend to my affairs as usual.”
“Can you trust a liar, a perjurer?”
“You are unjust and unkind, Dick. You know I have no such opinion of
you.”
“You cannot well avoid having such an opinion. I shall go, Hungerford;
I shall return only when Dr. Bilks is sent to the state prison, or
driven from the town. Whatever his purpose, he has accomplished it.”
Dick looked sharply into Eugene’s face.
“What purpose can he have?” demanded Eugene.
“Hungerford, what I am going to say will almost choke me, but I must
say it;” and Dick actually trembled with emotion.
“What, Dick?” asked Eugene, as he drew up his horse before the Bell
River House.
“Hungerford, don’t let Dr. Bilks marry Julia until you have seen
the end of this matter. Good by, Hungerford;” and Dick Birch, after
convulsively grasping the hand of his friend, leaped from the vehicle,
and rushed into the hotel.
Eugene was paralyzed by the suggestion contained in these words. He
looked at the door a moment, then turned his horse and drove towards
Pine Hill. Dick was angry and excited; he was in no condition to speak
calmly. It was best to leave him alone for a time. He would drive home
and inform his mother and Julia of the result of the examination, and
then return.
“Marry Dr. Bilks,” repeated he several times, as he drove towards
Pine Hill. Had the doctor driven Dick from Julia’s presence for this
purpose? He had been more than a physician to Julia--he was now,
when she no longer needed his services as such. Dick’s words were
suggestive, at least.