OUT OF DEATH'S SHADOW.
A well-dressed man, with white hair and whiskers, occupied a stool in
front of a fruit-stand opposite Nick Carter's rooms from eight o'clock
until half-past nine on the morning following the trunk episode. The
man was Peter Mannion, and he was making sure that Chick was not in
town at the time of the opening of court. At half-past nine a telegraph
boy appeared. He went quickly up the stairway of the house where Nick
had lodged, and before his return to the street he was stopped by Peter
Mannion. "If you have a telegram for Mr. Carter," he said, "I'll take
it and sign for it. Here is my authority," and he produced a card upon
which was written: "Deliver to bearer all letters, notes, and telegrams
for me that may come to-day"--giving the date. "Nicholas Carter." The
boy, without hesitation, gave up an envelope containing a telegram.
When the book had been signed, Peter Mannion opened the telegram, which
was dated Frederick, Md., and read: "Will be with you seven o'clock
to-night. C. Carter."
"Good! good!" and the villain rubbed his hands gleefully. "Everything
is coming our way. Nick Carter is at the bottom of the river, and
Chick, who will go to join him will not be here to interfere with the
court business. The prospect could not be better. And now to prepare
for court."
At ten o'clock Peter Mannion and his lawyer entered the court-room.
They were followed by Prosper Craven and Elmer Newton, the witnesses to
Arthur Mannion's will. There were but few spectators present, for there
had been no public intimation that the proceedings that day would be of
special interest.
Just as the calendar was being called Jackson Feversham, accompanied
by two smart-looking business men, both strangers to Peter Mannion,
entered and took seats just outside the bar.
The first matter taken up was that of the will of Arthur Mannion.
Craven and Newton were sworn and the fact elicited that the will had
been signed at Craven's house, in the presence of the witnesses and
of Arthur Mannion. It had been delivered into the keeping of Nellie
Mannion.
There being no objection, an order was made admitting the will to
probate.
"So far so good," thought Peter Mannion. "And now for the will as is a
will; the will that means millions to Nellie Mannion and her dear ones."
Rising to his feet, the uncle's attorney now made a motion that the
matter of the will of James Playfair be taken up. "It must be judged by
itself, as the court is aware," said the attorney, somewhat pompously,
and glaring at Jackson Feversham, "for it is an olographic will, one
which does not require the signature of witnesses. Having once proved
that the will is in the handwriting of the deceased Washingtonian, the
court must admit it to probate."
The attorney sat down, and the judge took up the will, examined it,
turned it over, and then said:
"Produce your witnesses."
"To prove the handwriting?"
"Of course. What else?" asked the court sharply.
"Then," said Peter Mannion's attorney, "I will ask Mr. Feversham to
take the stand."
James Playfair's friend looked surprised, but he came forward, was
sworn, and the will was placed in his hands.
"Examine it carefully, Mr. Feversham," said the attorney, "and then
state whether or not, in your opinion, the body of the instrument and
the signature, all the writing, in fact, is in the writing of James
Playfair."
"If this is not his handwriting," answered Feversham, after a pause,
"it is a perfect imitation."
"Can you say it is not his handwriting?" questioned Peter Mannion's
attorney, with sternness.
There was a pause. Feversham looked at the judge, then at the two men
who had accompanied him to the court. Finally he said slowly, but
with emphasis: "I can say, with a conviction that almost amounts to
certainty, that this will is not in the handwriting of my deceased
friend."
Peter Mannion started violently. His face grew gray. A sense of danger
suddenly possessed him; but he gripped the sides of his chair and
waited.
The attorney for the moment was nonplussed. He had not expected the
answer. But he speedily recovered his wits, and, in a blustering
manner, said:
"Is it because the will leaves you nothing, while a previous one leaves
you heir to the fortune, that you are unwilling to state what must be a
patent fact to any man of intelligence?"
Feversham's fine face darkened with anger. He was about to reply, when
the judge spoke with severity.
"You must not insult your own witnesses. If I hear anything of the kind
again I shall be compelled to fine you for contempt of court. Have you
any more questions to ask?"
"Yes," was the surly reply. "I wish to ask Mr. Feversham why he is
positive that this will is not what it purports to be?"
"My attorney, who has just arrived, will answer for me," said the
witness.
Both Peter Mannion and his attorney turned to see advancing toward the
bar the tall, courtly figure of Colonel Seaman, one of the leaders of
the Washington bar.
"It is our intention," said the colonel to the court, "to contest the
probate of this alleged olographic will. I have in my hands copies of
the same document, which I respectfully ask the court to examine before
I proceed to explain where and how they were found, and what they
mean."
Thus saying, he stepped within the bar, approached the bench, and
handed to the judge the four copies found on the body of Dimitri
Goloff, the Russian accomplice of Arthur Mannion.
The judge examined them, first with perplexity, then with understanding.
"As supplementing them," continued Colonel Seaman, "I will offer for
your inspection a copy of the indictment under which Arthur Mannion was
convicted in a California court of forgery." This document was passed
to the judge.
Peter Mannion shifted uneasily in his seat. His brow began to ooze cold
perspiration.
"Anything more?" asked the court pleasantly.
"Yes, your honor. Here are four affidavits declaring that on the date
of the alleged will in favor of Arthur Mannion that young man was in
St. Louis."
"Well, what of that?"
"If you will hold up the will and the copies, you will see that the
water-mark is 'St. Louis Mills.'"
The judge did so, with the remark: "You are right, Colonel Seaman;
and, while the circumstance taken alone is of little consequence, when
considered with other circumstances it may prove to have weight."
"I think the weight will be shown when we produce reliable witnesses
who will swear that for years James Playfair used but one kind of
paper, and that of Baltimore make."
"Where were these will copies found?"
"Ask Mr. Feversham, your honor. He is on the stand, and he has been
sworn."
The question was asked, and Feversham answered: "In the pockets of a
dead man."
"His name?"
"Dimitri Goloff, who was the criminal associate of Arthur Mannion,
and who accompanied Mannion from San Francisco. They were together in
Washington until Goloff met his death by accident."
Peter Mannion could scarcely breathe, so great was his agitation. It
was in his mind to rise and make a bolt from the room, but his limbs
seemed to have lost their power of motion.
"The proceedings thus far have been somewhat irregular," remarked
the court. "I presume that you are ready to proceed, unless there is
objection from the other side."
Peter Mannion's attorney cast at his client a look full of disgust, and
said nothing. He was ready to throw up the case.
"Before doing so," said Colonel Seaman suavely, "I desire to say that
we shall need a subpœna for a Baltimore witness, Doctor Haswick, the
superintendent of St. Luke's Hospital."
"What do you expect to prove by him?" asked Peter Mannion's attorney,
in marked curiosity.
"We expect to prove that the man who died there a short time ago and
who was buried as Arthur Mannion was not Arthur Mannion, but one Jonas
Jilson, a petty thief and tramp. By other witnesses we shall prove that
Arthur Mannion is still alive."
The colonel ceased speaking. Peter Mannion, shaking as if with the
ague, his eyes bloodshot, and his lips blue and trembling, arose to
his feet and staggered toward the door. No one stayed him until he
neared the two men who had entered with Jackson Feversham. Both rose
when the discomfited villain was within a few feet of them. Then acting
simultaneously, they stepped forward and each seized a wrist of the
fleeing man.
"Don't go," said one of them, in a voice that made the wretch's heart
stop beating, "for you may consider yourself under arrest, Mr. Arthur
Mannion, for the murder of James Playfair."
The speaker was Nick Carter, and his assistant was Chick.