During the drive to Bow Street Police Station, John Gaunt could think
of nothing else save his wife’s attitude, and it was with a deep
feeling of relief that he realized his fear had been groundless. It
was not the fact that he had killed Marillier that had caused her
distress, but the danger that he was incurring. She had appealed to him
so passionately, inasmuch as she feared for his safety, and the thought
brought him comfort.
The warrant was formally read over to him in the charge room and he
was at once conducted to a cell, there to await the arrival of his
solicitor, for whom he had sent. He was calm and collected when the
lawyer arrived.
“I am glad to see you, Mr. Stanley,” he remarked quietly, and then
proceeded to relate what had happened.
The solicitor listened attentively, now and then jotting down a note.
“Mr. Gaunt, the best thing you can do is to make terms with the Baron
de Croiseuil,” Mr. Stanley said when the story was finished.
“You may dismiss that idea from your mind. I intend to fight him,”
Gaunt answered sternly.
“I see,” the solicitor remarked reflectively. “Of course you are in no
great danger, for it is unlikely that they will convict you after the
long delay; but you will certainly have to put up with a great deal of
inconvenience. I must get away at once, for I should like Sir Richard
Tester to have his brief to-night.”
“You think that he is the best man?”
“Undoubtedly, for he is so ultra-respectable. Mark my words, the other
side will have Lester Ruggles. Good-bye, Mr. Gaunt, and don’t worry too
much. You are quite sure you won’t make terms with the Baron?”
“Quite. Good-bye,” Gaunt answered laconically.
The cell was not entirely without comfort, and he settled himself down
to wait for the morning. Try as he would he could not prevent himself
from thinking of Lady Mildred, and he wondered how this wretched
business would affect their relations. However, he told himself that
her love would rise above worldly considerations and that, when he was
free, she would receive him with open arms.
At last he fell asleep, and it was late when he awakened. Mr. Stanley
arrived soon after ten o’clock and proceeded to question him closely.
He then hurried away to embody the information he had received in the
brief.
It was not until twelve o’clock that a policeman came and announced
that the magistrate, Sir William Chandler, had arrived and that his
attendance was required.
Gaunt’s face was rather pale, but his expression was calm when he
entered the crowded court. All eyes were turned upon him, and the
pencils of the press men became busy as he stood in the dock and bowed
to the magistrate.
The charge was read by the clerk, and Mr. Lester Ruggles, K. C., rose
to his feet. He was a barrister of some fame and, like the solicitor
who instructed him, was retained in cases which counsel of better
repute would refuse to handle. But he was skilled in the law, a biting
cross-examiner, and something of an orator.
“I appear for the prosecution, your Worship, and at the outset I must
ask you to grant an adjournment. I propose merely to give formal notice
of arrest.”
“I should like to know something of the case,” the magistrate suggested
quietly.
For the first time Gaunt allowed his eyes to roam round the court and
he at once saw two ladies heavily veiled seated a few rows away. It did
not need the sight of Edward Drake to tell him who they were, and his
heart was beating rapidly when he recognized his wife.
“She has not failed me,” was his thought, and instinctively his
shoulders were thrown back, and a smile played about his mouth.
“The case is a very serious one, for it involves a charge of murder. I
represent the Belgian government, who are acting for the authorities of
the Congo Free State. Your Worship is probably aware that the Belgian
colonial office has taken over the Free State. Some fifteen years ago
the prisoner, John Gaunt, entered the service of the Congo.”
“Mr. Ruggles, am I to understand that the charge of murder dates back
fifteen years?” the magistrate asked quickly.
“That is so, sir; but I think I shall be able to put forward good
reasons for the delay. I was saying that the prisoner entered the
services of the Free State, and was appointed to the charge of a
district. It is necessary that your Worship should know something of
the state of affairs in that country. I fear that the morals of West
Africa are such that we should not understand in our frigid climate,
and I regret to say that the officials have been in the habit of
providing themselves with native wives.”
The color slowly ebbed from Gaunt’s face as he listened. There was a
touch on his shoulder, and his solicitor whispered in his ear.
“The Baron says there is still time.”
But Gaunt made no answer, and listened eagerly to what Mr. Ruggles was
saying.
“It appears that a man named Marillier possessed such a wife, but
the prisoner cast eyes upon her and determined to secure her for
himself. Accordingly, by some means or other, he got her away, and as
a consequence Marillier felt aggrieved. A quarrel took place, and the
prisoner deliberately shot the man that he had wronged.”
The words then became a mere jumble to Gaunt’s mind, and he stood there
utterly dazed. At last he summoned up courage to turn his head and his
breath came with a hiss of apprehension when he saw that his wife had
gone.
Gaunt now understood the unscrupulousness of the attack upon him, and
his lips were tightly pressed together as he forced himself to listen
to the prosecuting counsel’s lying statement.
“I have here, sir, several affidavits which depose to the facts I have
related, but you will readily understand that I am not in a position
to complete my case. There are important witnesses in the Congo, and
I fear that I must ask for a long adjournment. That is, unless your
Worship would be prepared to commit the prisoner for trial upon these
affidavits, and the evidence which I can obtain immediately from
Brussels.”
“It depends entirely upon the nature of that evidence,” the magistrate
remarked drily.
“It is unfortunate that the only witnesses of the actual shooting are
natives, and they, of course, are in the Congo.”
“It seems to me that theirs is the only evidence that is material and I
am surprised that you should not have brought them here before applying
for a warrant. Under the circumstances, your application yesterday
should have been for a summons and not for a warrant.”
Sir Richard Tester rose and spoke for the first time.
“I appear for the prisoner, and I propose to say a few words on that
subject, if my learned friend has quite finished,” he began in the
clear ringing voice, with its note of gentle persuasion which helped to
bring him renown.
“I would suggest that you grant an adjournment for a week,” broke
in Mr. Ruggles, “when I will proceed to examine the witnesses at my
disposal. I shall then be in a better position to tell you when my
witnesses will arrive from the Congo.”
“What have you to say, Sir Richard?” the magistrate asked.
The famous counsel slowly rose and took up his gold-rimmed eye-glasses
with which he proceeded to punctuate his remarks.
“In the first place, sir, I say with all deliberation that this is
not a bona fide prosecution, and I am surprised that my learned
friend should have lent himself to such a barefaced proceeding. It is
necessary, sir, that I should trouble you at some length, but probably
you are aware that Mr. John Gaunt—I will not call him the prisoner—has
been engaged upon a humane task, that of rousing the public to a
proper appreciation of the terrible conditions under which the natives
of the Congo live. It is natural to believe that this agitation is
distinctly unpalatable to the governors of the Free State, and I
say that the prosecution has been brought solely with the idea of
discrediting Mr. Gaunt, and rendering him incapable of continuing what
I will term his noble work. I take the first opportunity of denying the
truth of the statement which you have just heard from counsel, and I am
of opinion that he has been falsely instructed from motives of malice.
It is suggested that my client deliberately shot the man Marillier
under the most discreditable circumstances, and now I will tell you
what really happened.”
Then Sir Richard proceeded to speak of Gaunt’s sudden appearance at the
flogging of the native girl, and the consequences of his interference.
“I suggest that the facts have been deliberately misstated for the
purpose I have before mentioned, and I maintain that the prosecution
has not the slightest hope of proving what they have put forward. Now
I address a larger public when I express a wish that these proceedings
shall not be allowed to influence Mr. Gaunt’s work,” he wound up slowly
and impressively.
“I am willing to adjourn the case for a week,” the magistrate remarked.
“As to bail, your Worship?” Sir Richard said suavely.
Mr. Ruggles jumped to his feet, and intervened with vigor.
“The charge is that of murder, and I strenuously oppose bail. The
prisoner is a man of such great wealth that no amount you could fix
would deter him from leaving the country, if he so wished.”
“I am sure that your Worship will not be inclined to take away Mr.
Gaunt’s liberty. I am aware that bail is very rarely granted in cases
of murder, but this accusation is so frivolous that I am confident that
you will see the justice of my application. I repeat that the sole
motive of this prosecution is to silence my client,” Sir Richard said
with some warmth.
“At this stage I will express no opinion upon the proceedings, except
to remark that the alleged crime took place many years ago. Mr. Gaunt
is a well-known man and it is natural to wonder why all these years
have been allowed to pass without any steps having been taken. I shall
grant bail—the prisoner giving security in one thousand pounds—and two
other securities of a like amount.”
“I am obliged to your Worship,” Sir Richard said quietly.
Gaunt happened to turn round, and his eyes alighted upon the Baron de
Croiseuil, who was talking excitedly to his solicitor. Mr. Ruggles once
more jumped to his feet.
“Surely your Worship will hear me before giving such a decision? I
repeat that the charge against the prisoner is the most serious known
to the law, and that you will be forming a most dangerous precedent if
you grant bail. I cannot impress upon your lordship too strongly my
opinion that if the prisoner is allowed to go free, he will never dare
to face the trial.”
“I have given my decision after due consideration. The prisoner will be
admitted to bail upon the terms I have stated,” the magistrate answered
drily.
Gaunt was led from the court while the formalities were being
completed, and it was some little time before the papers were signed.
At last it was all finished, and he left the police station to find
Edward Drake awaiting him with the motor-car.
Newspaper lads were running along the street shouting their wares:
“Serious charge against John Gaunt. Proceedings at Bow Street,” and a
grim smile came to the millionaire’s face.
“What did Lady Mildred say to you?” he asked of Drake with great
anxiety.
“Nothing. She merely left. Of course she will not credit the absurd
statement made by Ruggles, but naturally she was upset.”
Gaunt was not listening, for he was filled with a great anxiety and
when the car reached his house he jumped down and hastened into the
hall.
“Where is your mistress?” he demanded of the footman, and his voice was
harsh.
“Her ladyship left half an hour ago, sir.”
“Alone?”
“No, sir. Her ladyship’s sister, and the nurse with the baby
accompanied her ladyship,” was the answer, and Gaunt moved slowly away.