BEFORE THE JUDGE
Mr. Force with his party drove directly to the City Hall.
It was still raining hard, when they arrived—so hard that when the
carriage drew up before the broad flight of steps leading up to the main
entrance of the building, Mr. Force, upon alighting upon the pavement,
had to take out one lady at a time, and lead her under the shelter of a
large umbrella up into the hall.
They found Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary, with the three younger Grandiere
girls, all under the escort of Roland Bayard, waiting for them in the
vestibule.
When all the party were assembled, they mustered quite a formidable
company—eleven in number.
“I never was in a courthouse in all my life before! I feel just as if I
was going to be tried for murder or larceny, or something, myself! I
know I shall never be able to hold up my head again!” whispered Elva, in
a frightened voice, to Wynnette.
“And I reckon I shall be tried for murder, if ever I get a good chance
to let daylight through that foreign beat!” replied Wynnette, too mad to
mend her phrases as she usually did.
“Don’t be distressed, Elva, dear! We are not going into court. This is a
case to be heard in chambers,” Roland explained.
“Chambers!” echoed, in a breath, all the girls, whose only idea of
chambers was bedrooms.
Before Roland could explain further, Mr. Force had come in with Odalite
on his arm, and hurried the whole party up another flight of stairs and
along another passage, until they reached a door at which a bailiff
stood.
The latter opened the door, in silence.
The whole party entered a large and well-furnished room, where, on this
cold and rainy second of April, a bright coal fire was burning in the
grate. The floor was covered with a dark red carpet, the windows shaded
with buff blinds, now drawn three-quarters up, because the day was dark,
and the walls were lined with tall bookcases, filled with well-worn
volumes, mostly bound in calf. Several library tables, loaded with
folios and stationery, occupied the middle of the spacious apartment.
In a large leathern chair, at one of these tables, sat a venerable man,
with white hair and a benign countenance, a judge of the Supreme Court
of the District of Columbia, whom, for convenience, we will call Judge
Blank.
There was a grave young man standing near him, who might have been clerk
or private secretary.
And seated in another armchair, at some little distance, was Col.
Anglesea, looking as careless as if he were making a morning call.
He, too, seemed to be without counsel or witnesses.
Mr. Force came forward with his party, bowed to the dignitary, whom he
frequently met in social life and knew very well, and saluted him with
a—
“Good-morning, judge,” as if he, too, had just dropped in to make a
morning call.
“Good-morning, Mr. Force,” replied his honor, rising and looking about
him.
Seeing the large party who had entered the room, he turned to the young
man in attendance, and said:
“O’Brien, find seats for these ladies.”
When they were all seated, Mr. Force remained standing before the judge,
with only the table between them.
Col. Anglesea sat back at ease in his chair, with his chin a little
elevated, playing carelessly with the charms attached to his watch
chain.
There was a short pause, and then Mr. Force, laying a document on the
table, said:
“Your honor, I return the writ with which I have been served. My
daughter, Odalite Force, is present.”
“Take a seat, Mr. Force,” said the judge, and then, turning to the young
man whom he had called O’Brien, he took from his hand a paper and began
to read it to himself.
There was silence in the quiet room.
“This is not a bit like I thought it was going to be. I don’t feel at
all scared now! Why, I know Judge Blank! He used to pat me on the head
every time he saw me!” whispered Elva to Wynnette.
“Hush, hush! you mustn’t talk here. Yes, it is quiet enough here, for
that matter! Executions are quiet nearly always. We read, ‘The execution
was conducted in a quiet and orderly manner,’ and yet a man has been
hung and choked to death, or perhaps a woman,” whispered Wynnette, most
inconsistently talking more than the sister whom she had rebuked for
breaking silence.
“Oh, Wynnette! why will you talk of such horrid, horrid things?”
demanded Elva, in a frightened tone.
“Because I am thinking of the price. I am counting the cost of sending
that earthworm to Hades——Hush!”
The judge had finished reading the document in his hand, and turning
slowly to the respondent, said:
“Mr. Force, you are charged herein, under oath, by Col. Angus Anglesea,
of Anglewood Manor, England, with having, on the twentieth of December,
18—, forcibly abducted, and for three years past and up to this present,
illegally detained the person of his wife, Odalite Anglesea—otherwise
Odalite Force. What have you to say to this charge?”
“I say that it is absolutely false and malicious from beginning to end!
The young lady here present, to whom he so insolently refers, is my
daughter, Odalite Force, a maiden and a minor, under my own immediate
protection,” replied Abel Force.
“Col. Angus Anglesea will step forward,” said the venerable judge.
The colonel arose, bowed and came up to the table.
O’Brien handed him the New Testament.
He bowed again with hypocritical devotion and took the formal oath to
speak “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“Col. Anglesea, will you now state the grounds upon which you claim this
lady here present, Odalite Force, or Anglesea, as your wife, and charge
Abel Force, her father, with forcibly abducting and illegally detaining
her?” said the judge.
“I will,” replied the colonel. And he began his statement:
“Three years and four months ago, on the twentieth of December, 18—, in
the Church of All Faith, in the Parish of All Faith, in the State of
Maryland, I married Odalite Force, here present, daughter of Abel Force,
also here present. The Rev. Dr. Peters, rector of All Faith, performed
the marriage. Mr. Abel Force gave away the bride. At the end of the
ceremony a madwoman burst into the church, forced her way to the altar
and created a disgraceful disturbance, into the details of which I need
not go. Mr. Force, with the help of some of his neighbors, seized his
daughter, tore her from my arms and conveyed her to his home, where he
has forcibly and illegally detained her ever since. I see one man and
several young women who were witnesses of the whole transaction, and may
be put upon the stand to corroborate my testimony,” concluded the
colonel.
“Oh, Lord!” muttered one and all of the girls, aghast at the
proposition.
“Col. Anglesea,” questioned the judge, “you say that this happened more
than three years ago. Why has not this complaint been made sooner?”
“Imperative business summoned me immediately to England and detained me
there. I wrote many letters to my wife, imploring her to come over to
me—letters which perhaps never reached her, for she never replied to
them. I then sent a messenger, the Rev. Dr. Pratt, to see her in person,
and try to induce her to come over to England under his escort and join
me at Anglewood, where I impatiently awaited her. But my reverend
courier failed to find her where I had left her, at her father’s country
seat, Mondreer, and heard that she was with her family in Washington. He
came here in search of my wife, but again failed to meet her. He was
told that she was traveling with her family in Canada. In short, my
agent failed to find her, and returned to England from his fruitless
errand.”
“Lord! how that man can lie!—I mean, what reckless assertions he can
make!” said Wynnette, in a low tone, to Roland.
“I like your first way of putting it best,” muttered young Bayard.
Col. Anglesea was going on with his statement:
“I was bound to England by business, which was at the same time a most
sacred duty. It is needless to go into the description of that business
and duty. It has nothing to do with this case further than it held me
fast from coming to this country in search of my wife; from whom I had
never heard directly since our violent parting in the church. Nor did I
hear any news of her until last March, when a rumor reached me that she
was on the eve of marriage with a cousin of hers, a Mr. Leonidas Force,
a midshipman in the United States Navy. I took measures to find out the
truth about this report, and having satisfied myself of it, I set sail
for New York, where I arrived only three days since. I took the first
train to Washington, and reached the city yesterday morning. I inquired
the address of Mr. Abel Force and went directly to his house. I was
refused admittance. I asked to see my wife, but was refused the
privilege.”
“Oh, Lord! how that man can lie! I mean, how he can falsify the sacred
truth!” panted Wynnette.
“Stick to the first form, my dear! The terse Saxon is the strongest,”
muttered Roland.
Col. Anglesea continued:
“Knowing the desperate character of the man I had to deal with——”
“Oh! just hear him talking about our gentle, lovely papa!” whispered
Elva.
“Never mind! I’m putting it all down! He’s only piling up ‘wrath against
a day of wrath.’ Spinning out rope enough to hang himself. I’ll give it
to him! He’ll catch it!” panted Wynnette.
“Knowing, I say, the character of the man I had to deal with,” concluded
Anglesea; “knowing from bitter experience that not even the holy ground
of the house of God was sacred from his murderous violence——”
“Rosemary Hedge! make Roland Bayard kick that man out of the courthouse
and horsewhip him in the public streets!” fiercely whispered Wynnette.
“Hush, hush, dear child! We are in the presence of the judge. Wait. I
will deal with him later,” murmured young Bayard.
“Rosemary Hedge! tell Roland Bayard if he don’t kick that man out and
lash him, you will never marry him!” hissed Wynnette, through her
clenched teeth.
“He never asked me to,” replied Rosemary, in her tiny voice.
“Silence,” said the judge, noticing for the first time the excited
whispering in the corner.
“There! I told you so! Next thing we’ll be kicked out,” muttered
Wynnette, most unreasonably, since she herself had caused all the
disturbance.
A dead silence fell among the group of girls while Anglesea went on with
his statement:
“I applied for, and obtained, the writ of _habeas corpus_ from your
honor, ordering the abductor of my wife to bring her before you. So
armed with the power of the law, I went to the house of Abel Force last
night and entered it, and not a moment too soon. I found my wife
standing with a young man whom I at once recognized as Mr. Midshipman
Force, before a minister of the Gospel who had just pronounced the
marriage benediction. I saw the writ served, and then left the house. I
have no more to say but this, that I might have brought a criminal
charge against her!”