WILLIAM DOW’S PROMISE.
In order to quiet public opinion by giving it one of the two sources
of satisfaction it demanded, the district attorney urged the higher
criminal court to hasten the revision of the case of James Gobson.
When the first examination was made, Mr. Mortimer and Davis had heard
certain rumors concerning the role which Colonel Forster must have
played in the kidnapping of Ada Ricard, but they paid little attention
to them, because it had not been proved that the rumor had a serious
basis, afterwards because the officer was too important a man to be
compromised on simple suspicion.
Later, when the corpse was discovered, Dr. O’Neel had assigned for the
death of the victim a date after the departure of the yacht which, to
every one, had set off the day after the ball given at No. 17 East
Twenty-third Street. Then came the arrest of Gobson and the proving
of his guilt, and the magistrates had congratulated themselves on
the perspicacity which they had shown in not pronouncing the name of
Colonel Forster, whom some political enemies would have been delighted
to see figure in this scandalous and dramatic affair. But after that
had passed and the return of Miss Ada, which had preceded by only a few
days the entrance of the Gleam into New York harbor, the complicity of
the gallant officer in the kidnapping of the pretty New Yorker was no
longer to be doubted.
Now, although neither the lawyers nor the police could see anything
to object to in this act, since Miss Ada did not complain, Mr.
Mortimer and Davis thought they could not do otherwise than question
the colonel, in order to obtain from him a declaration of a nature
to enlighten the magistrates charged with the revision of the case
relating to the employment of the time of the woman whose absence had
caused this bad judicial error. What might be worse would be Colonel
Forster’s refusal to say anything. In that case it would be necessary
to do without him, and they could not count on Ada Ricard.
Having been questioned twice, she answered:
“I cannot tell you how I passed my time without compromising some
one to whom I have promised silence. If that person releases me from
my promise I will speak, although I do not see wherein it concerns
justice. I am not dead, for here I am, and that seems to me the
essential point.”
Mr. Mortimer and Davis knew so well that the young woman was in
the right that they used every art before asking Mr. Forster for
information; but to their great delight, from their first overtures on
this subject the officer said to them:
“You understand, gentlemen, that I am very anxious not to figure in any
way in these debates to which I am absolutely a stranger, excepting
by the single fact of the error committed; but as I am of the opinion
that none should refuse his aid to the laws of his country, I am ready
to tell you everything, provided you give me your word of honor not to
speak my name, to give publicity either to myself or the adventure.”
The sheriff and the coroner readily promised all that the colonel
wished, and the day after Mr. Forster went to the house of Mr. Douglas,
the judge of the Criminal Court.
They found Mr. Kelly, Mortimer and Davis there, and when these
magistrates thanked him for his readiness to place himself at their
disposal, when they pledged themselves again to the most entire
discretion, they introduced Miss Ada Ricard, who had been invited to
the rendezvous.
The elegant officer hastened to hold out his hand to the young woman,
and she answered his greeting with a charming smile.
Colonel Forster then gave a frank account of the manner in which the
proposal to carry off Miss Ada had been made to him by a man he did not
know, and the subsequent events of which the reader is already informed.
The officers thanked him warmly, and the reunion ended.
In less than a fortnight after this the Criminal Court met for the
revision of James Gobson’s case, who lived as he told Mr. Mortimer, at
the United States Hotel, but who saw the woman who bore his name almost
every day.
One would have said that the grave events in which the divorced couple
had found themselves, had lessened their former grievance; that they
had forgiven each other their mutual wrongs, and that the woman forgot
the brutalities of the husband as the husband forgot the unfaithfulness
of the wife.
It was known that the latter was to appear before the court to defend
James against the suspicions which had led to his arrest and his
sentence, and this prospect gave the new arguments a doubly piquant
attraction.
Therefore, on the day of the hearing, the court-room was filled at an
early hour. At the entrance of James Gobson a round of applause rang
through the room, and when Miss Ada Ricard appeared on the arm of the
lawyer, Macready, the crowd gave a true ovation.
The court opened, and the lawyer for the State presented the case,
explaining with great clearness and perfect loyalty, how the lawyers
had been led to commit an error, which, fortunately, was reparable. He
concluded by asking the jury to render a negative verdict, and to the
court to acquit and reinstate the man so unjustly condemned.
Matters would have ended thus, but that would not have answered for
the lawyer Macready. It was too fine an occasion for criticising the
police, the criminal examination, the law and justice. For the defender
of James Gobson this case might be the turning-point in his political
career. He must profit by it.
In the first place, as had been agreed, the young woman arose, and
spoke in a voice sufficiently moved by emotion:
“Gentlemen, I deeply regret that the law should have sought, in my
conjugal life with Mr. Gobson, troubles of a nature to arouse its
suspicions. If, for reasons I need not recall, I had to ask for
divorce, I must protest against the character which the requirements
of the examination gave to him whose wife I was. Mr. Gobson has never
ceased to be an honest man, and it would have been easy, by addressing
those who formerly knew him, to gain the conviction that he could not
have become a thief or assassin. For my part, while waiting for the
just reparation to which he is entitled, I ask pardon for having been
the involuntary cause of the misfortune that has befallen him.”
One can easily imagine the shouts of applause with which this little
speech was received by the audience. Mr. Macready let it subside
somewhat, then he took the stand.
We will not give his address. It was crushing to Mr. Mortimer and
Davis, and especially to the chief of police.
Mr. Kelly was a political enemy and the defender was pitiless. He
specified him to the electors as unworthy of being elected, and
he concluded by saying what besides was absolutely true, from the
standpoint of the law, that the magistrates, who had come near hanging
an innocent person, should esteem themselves very happy that James
Gobson did not demand great damages.
This terrible harangue had no less success than Miss Ada’s few words,
and in less than a quarter of an hour the jury, having given a
unanimous negative verdict, the court acquitted and reinstated James
Gobson.
As expected, this result excited an enthusiasm that amounted to
delirium when the young woman, with a smile on her lips, was seen to
approach her former husband and hold out her hand to him in a friendly
manner.
Among the spectators were William Dow and Captain Young, hidden behind
the curious privileged ones who had found a place within the railing.
“Well, Mr. Dow,” said the chief of the detectives to his friend, when
all was concluded, “it is done, and I am delighted. This affair weighed
on my conscience somewhat.”
“My dear Young,” answered William, pointing to James Gobson and Miss
Ada, who were leaving by the magistrate’s door in order to avoid
the crowd. “I think that those two have simply come here to mock at
justice.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing that you can understand this moment.”
The zealous detective, without adding a word, parted from the captain,
who irreverently shrugged his shoulders.
It was evident that through the judicial error he had caused, one
mysterious character now seemed hardly worthy the admiration of the
terrible Young.
But the one most displeased with William Dow was the stout Kelly, and
he received him quite coldly when he presented himself at his office a
week later.
“It is vain for you to excuse yourself,” he said to him in a gruff
tone, “and to give me the most favorable explanations; it is none the
less true that, politically, I am a lost man. If we could discover the
identity of the drowned woman, I could recover myself; but we shall do
nothing of the sort, nothing! That imbecile of a Young is arresting
twenty drunkards and as many pickpockets by way of compensation. It is
enough to drive one out of his mind. I can only send in my resignation.”
“Be careful how you do that, dear Mr. Kelly,” said our hero, after
leaving the chief of the police to vent his bile. “You know that Gobson
and Ada Ricard left New York this morning.”
“May Satan carry them off and they may go hang elsewhere.”
“When will the elections take place?”
“In four months.”
“Can you give a leave of absence of a fortnight to Captain Young?”
“Indeed, yes, for all the good he does in New York. Where are you going
to send him?”
“I shall send him nowhere. I am going to take him with me.”
“Where?”
“Ah! that is my secret.”
“If you only had one to help me get back my electors.”
“By how many votes have you been nominated?”
“By forty-five thousand.”
“Well, my dear Mr. Kelly, in four months you will have ten thousand
votes more. It is I who promise you. I am so far certain of it that I
give you my word.”
“By George! tell me a little what you----”
“Not a word, if you will allow me. Give Young his leave of absence
and count on me. All that I ask of you are very strong letters of
recommendation to your police friends in Boston, Buffalo, Jefferson,
and San Francisco.”
“This evening the letters will be at your house.”
The chief of police escorted William Dow to the office door.
“This fellow is capable of doing what he says,” murmured Kelly,
reseating himself in his arm-chair, “only why does he take the captain
with him, as he is good for nothing? After all it does not matter. If
he keeps his promise, and in four months I beat that Robertson, I shall
ask no more of him, not even what has become of that brute of a Young,
if he does not bring him back with him.”