BY A HAIR'S BREADTH
Again and again Colonel Andrews demanded order in the court-room, but
the spectators were utterly demoralized and refused to be quiet. It was
only after Mrs. Bennett had been carried unconscious into another room
that the confusion somewhat abated. Nancy, trembling in every limb, in
the reaction which followed her terror and shock, collapsed in her
chair, incapable of speech. Mrs. Arnold, whose complexion had turned
pasty from her emotions, clung frantically to Mrs. Warren and begged
tearfully to be taken home.
Colonel Andrews, purple in the face with his exertions, bellowed in a
voice at last heard above the racket: "This unseemly behavior must
cease! Major Lane, call the guard and clear the room!"
Silence quickly followed the order, and Warren turned and addressed the
excited court:
"I ask your indulgence for precipitating such a scene. I returned to
this room intending to ask a stay of proceedings so that I could have
time to gather evidence against Mrs. Bennett; but, on hearing the judge
advocate's argument against postponement, I saw my opportunity to force
a confession from the guilty woman by giving details of Captain Lloyd's
murder which would induce her to think there had been an eye-witness to
her crime.
"Sitting there, confident that another was practically convicted for
Captain Lloyd's murder, the shock of my unexpected words affected her
as I hoped they would, and she betrayed herself."
"Is that the only evidence you can offer to prove Mrs. Bennett's
guilt?" demanded the judge advocate, harshly.
"My next witness is Miss Mary Phelps, a nurse of the United States
Sanitary Commission," was Warren's noncommittal reply.
After the usual preliminaries Miss Phelps told how she found the
hypodermic syringe and why she gave it to Doctor Ward. She was then
excused, and her place taken by Doctor Ward, who in a few concise words
described how he discovered that the syringe was not his, and that it
contained a solution which, on examination, proved to be a form of
curari. He produced the syringe and gave it to the judge advocate.
As he left the court-room Doctor John Boyd's name was called, and the
famous surgeon limped into the room and to the witness chair, followed
by a low ripple of excited comment from the spectators which was
quickly quelled by Colonel Andrews' peremptory demand for silence. When
Doctor Boyd had satisfactorily answered the judge advocate's first
question after being sworn, Warren began his direct examination.
"Doctor, are you acquainted with the poison known as curari or
curarine?"
"I am. Some of the drug was given to me when I was last in South
America. It is almost impossible to procure it in this country now."
"How many people knew that you owned this drug?"
Doctor Boyd reflected a moment before answering. "I am sure only two
people beside myself--my former assistant and Mrs. Bennett."
Colonel Andrews had no need to call for silence; one could hear a pin
fall in that quiet room as court and spectators bent forward, the
better to hear Doctor Boyd's low voice.
"How did Mrs. Bennett learn that you had some curari?"
"She came in to my consulting room one day last November. I had just
been making some physiological tests, and the bottle containing the
curari was on my table. After I had given her the prescription she had
come for she asked me what the bottle contained.
"Curari is a curious poison, and one that is not much known, at least
at this date. I explained that the South American Indians used it on
their arrow points in the chase, animals killed by it being quite
wholesome. I also told her that curari may, except in very large doses,
be swallowed with impunity, but if introduced into a puncture of the
skin, so as to mix with the blood, the effect is instantly fatal, and
leaves no trace of poison behind it. She asked me how to obtain a
solution of the drug, and I explained in detail; then, seeing she was
ready to go, I rose and put the bottle of curari back on its shelf in
the small medicine cabinet that hangs near my table."
"Is the cabinet kept locked?"
"No. My old housekeeper, Martha Crane, has charge of my private office
and would not think of disturbing any of my belongings."
"Did you know Captain Lloyd?" read the judge advocate, pasting Warren's
last question in his book.
"I first met Captain Lloyd on New York Avenue one morning in January,
but I saw him again that same night." The surgeon paused.
"Give a full account of that last occasion," directed Warren.
"I was attending a supper party at Senator Warren's," began Boyd. "We
were having a pleasant evening when the bell rang and the servant told
the senator that a gentleman wished to speak to Major Goddard. Senator
Warren immediately asked Captain Lloyd to step into the parlor, but he
declined, saying he preferred to wait in the hall for his friend.
"Suddenly I was startled by a half-stifled moan, and turned to see
where the sound came from. Mrs. Bennett was crouching on the sofa
behind me; her face livid, her eyes starting from her head. I followed
her glance and saw Captain Lloyd standing directly under the hall
light."
"Did Captain Lloyd see Mrs. Bennett?"
"No; we were sitting in the darkest part of the room, besides which he
was too occupied in staring at Major Goddard and Miss Newton to notice
anyone else."
"What happened next?"
"Major Goddard joined his friend almost at once and they went away
together. Then, before I could catch her, Mrs. Bennett fell fainting on
the floor. If ever I saw naked fear it was in her livid countenance
when she gazed at Captain Lloyd.
"Naturally I was curious to know what connection there was between Mrs.
Bennett, a society butterfly, and Captain Lloyd of the Secret Service,
particularly as I was informed that she was a Union spy, but my
professional duties claimed all my attention. And I forgot about the
scene until it was recalled to my mind by Mrs. Bennett herself."
"In what way?"
"I was talking with her at the President's levee on March 2nd, and
spoke of Major Goddard. She asked me if Captain Lloyd had returned to
town with him, and I replied in the negative."
"Was that the last time you saw Mrs. Bennett?"
"No. I saw her on the afternoon of the 6th of March going in to Mrs.
Lane's. My housekeeper, Martha," he added, before the judge advocate
could speak, "told me, when I entered my office a few seconds later,
that Mrs. Bennett had just left, having waited for me in the front
office for some time."
"Is the communicating door between the office and your consulting room
kept locked when you are absent?"
"No, never."
"Then a patient could enter your consulting room without disturbing
your housekeeper?"
"Yes."
"Did you see Mrs. Bennett waiting on Mrs. Lane's doorstep?"
"No, she was just turning the front doorknob and entering when I passed
the house."
"Did she see you?"
"No, I think not. Her back was turned to me."
"Is your usual office hour at that time in the afternoon?"
"No."
"Then Mrs. Bennett knew that you were likely to be out at that hour?"
"Yes; she told my housekeeper that she had a bad attack of neuralgia,
and had called on the chance of finding me in."
"Where have you been during the past month, Doctor?"
"I left Washington that very afternoon on my way to Richmond."
"Just a moment," interposed Warren, and handed another slip to the
judge advocate, who read the question aloud. "Did Mrs. Bennett know you
expected to leave town?"
"She did. I told Mrs. Arnold in her presence that I expected to go away
at any moment, and did not know exactly when I would return."
"Continue your statement," directed Warren.
"I went to Richmond to see my brother. On my arrival there I found him
in one of the hospitals, dying." Boyd's keen eyes grew misty. "I stayed
with him to the end. I found my services needed in that unhappy city,
so remained; but just before the evacuation I went over to Petersburg
to assist in the field hospitals. I only returned to Washington this
morning."
"When did you first hear of the charges against Miss Newton?"
"When I reached my house this morning I found Doctor Ward there making
inquiries of Martha as to my whereabouts. We went into the office, and
Ward told me of Miss Newton's arrest and trial, finally mentioning his
suspicions that curari had been used. I sprang out of my chair, walked
over and pulled open the door of the cabinet. The bottle of curari was
empty. I also found on further search that one of my hypodermic
syringes and needles, which I keep in the top drawer of my table, were
missing."
"Did any one have access to your offices during your absence from the
city?"
"No. I locked both the doors and bolted the windows of those rooms
before I left that afternoon, and took the keys with me, knowing that I
might be away from home for some time."
"What did you do on discovering the curari was gone?"
"Doctor Ward and I agreed that Senator Warren should be sent for. On
his arrival we consulted together and decided that Mrs. Bennett must
have killed Captain Lloyd."
"That is all, Doctor," announced Warren. "Mr. Judge Advocate, take the
witness."
"Do you know any motive for Mrs. Bennett's crime?" inquired the judge
advocate.
"Fear, deadly fear."
"Do you know what inspired that fear?"
"No, sir; I do not."
"You are excused." And the doctor, bowing to the court and to Nancy,
withdrew.
"May it please the court to recall Major Goddard," said Warren.
"Major Goddard is under close arrest and cannot leave his quarters,"
replied the President.
"But there are no longer grounds for such arrest," retorted Warren,
warmly. "He cannot now be accused of being an accessory after the fact.
By President Lincoln's permission I was allowed to see the major this
morning, and I say to you in all earnestness that his testimony is
needed to clear up this mystery. I have here an order from the
Secretary of War," extending a long envelope which had been delivered
to him a moment before, "releasing Major Goddard from arrest."
Convinced by Warren's earnest appeal, the presiding officer despatched
an orderly for Goddard.
Nancy's color had returned, and her eyes sparkled with relief and
renewed courage as she talked in a low tone with Warren and Dwight
during the short wait that followed. Goddard soon made his appearance,
for his conversation with Warren had prepared him for such a summons.
His whole bearing had changed. He entered the room erect and smiling,
and despite his blindness moved with quick, decisive step as the
orderly guided him to the witness chair.
"State to the court Captain Lloyd's _full_ name," ordered Warren.
"George Lloyd Irving." His announcement caused low voiced comment, and
Colonel Andrews pounded for order.
"Why did Captain Lloyd drop his family name?"
"Because he desired to lose his identity after a certain tragedy in his
family."
"Give a full account of that tragedy."
"After graduating from West Point I was ordered West, and I did not see
Captain Lloyd until seven years later. I found him greatly changed from
the kindly, happy boy I had known in former days. After we had been
together for a month we drifted into our old friendly ways, and one
night Lloyd confided his troubles to me and why he had dropped his
surname.
"Three years before that date, when on a visit in the West, he had met
a very pretty, charming girl, became infatuated with her, and after a
brief courtship they were married. Shortly after the honeymoon they
both realized they had made a fearful mistake. She had married Lloyd
for the social position his name could give her. She found that Lloyd
hated society and would go nowhere. He was also comparatively poor and
could not supply her with the luxuries her shallow nature craved. So
they endured a parrot and monkey life of it. After the birth of their
baby there was continuous friction, for Lloyd declared that to cut down
expenses to meet additional bills they would have to live in a farm
house which he owned near a village in New Jersey.
"They moved there and things went from bad to worse. Mrs. Irving hated
the village people. Their church socials and the sewing circles seemed
to mock her; for she craved balls and brilliant receptions. She never
troubled to return the calls of the friendly farmers' wives, and
finally she was shunned. Lloyd, who went to and from his work every
day, was wrapped up in the baby, a sickly little girl, and paid but
little attention to his wife's tempers.
"One day, driven to desperation by the monotony of her existence, for
which she chiefly had herself to blame, Mrs. Irving decided to leave
Lloyd. He had been sent to Philadelphia to investigate a criminal case,
and was expected back the next afternoon. Mrs. Irving dismissed her
servant, and at noon the next day, after writing a note to Lloyd, she
shut up the house and trudged into town, reaching the station in time
to catch the train to the city."
Goddard stopped his long narrative, and cleared his throat nervously.
Nancy had never taken her eyes from him, and, as if he felt their
appeal, he turned and spoke as if addressing her alone.
"Unfortunately, Lloyd was detained in Philadelphia by illness. When he
reached his home he found his house closed, his wife gone, and his
delicate baby _dead_ from starvation and exposure in the bitter
weather. His farm was on a little-frequented road; his nearest neighbor
six miles away. No one had noticed the closed house; no one had
approached near enough to hear the baby's cries.
"From that moment Lloyd was a changed man. He waited until after his
child was buried; then started in pursuit of her unnatural mother. I do
not suppose," added Goddard hastily, "that it ever occurred to Mrs.
Bennett that Lloyd might be prevented from returning home that
afternoon. She had no particular affection for the child, and decided
that having a baby with her would be a drag. She also undoubtedly
reasoned that Lloyd would not trouble to find _her_, but if she took
the _child_ away he would instantly institute a search for her.
"Lloyd spent months trying to trace his wife. Finally word reached him
that she had sailed on an ill-fated ship which was wrecked, and his
wife was reported among those drowned. Convinced that she was dead, he
let the matter drop. But, knowing Lloyd as I did, I am convinced that,
had he suspected his wife really was _alive_, he would have killed her,
for he worshipped that baby. Many a night I have been wakened by his
calling: 'Baby-tot! baby-tot!' in heart-rending tones in his sleep, as
I told Senator Warren this morning."
"Why did you not relate this narrative when you testified yesterday?"
asked the judge advocate, after Warren signified that he could
cross-examine Goddard.
"Because I never connected Lloyd's unhappy married life with the cause
of his murder. I thought his wife was dead."
"Did you ever see Captain Lloyd--Captain Irving's wife?"
"No, sir. You can prove my statements by going to the village where the
child is buried. I don't doubt you can find some farmers who can
identify Mrs. Irving."
"Then you have no direct proof to adduce that Mrs. Irving and Mrs.
Bennett are one and the same person?"
"I have no such proof," admitted Goddard, "but any one of average
intelligence----" His hot-tempered speech was interrupted by a request
that the judge advocate see Mrs. Bennett, who had regained
consciousness.
Interest was keyed to the highest pitch, and the judge advocate's
return to the room was hailed by a low murmur of suppressed excitement.
He laid down a paper and announced gravely: "Mrs. Bennett has
confessed."
For the moment there was absolute stillness; then spontaneous applause
broke out from Nancy's friends, which was instantly checked by Colonel
Andrews.
"In her signed confession Mrs. Bennett states that she _is_ Mrs.
Irving," continued the judge advocate. "She bribed a poor woman who was
sailing on that ill-fated ship to assume her name, thinking it would
mislead her husband should he try to find her. When she heard the woman
was drowned Mrs. Irving considered that she was safe. She altered her
appearance by dyeing her hair and by other artificial means. Her
pleasing address and good education assisted her, together with a
forged reference, in securing a position as companion to a rich
invalid. Some months after that she heard of the death of her child,
and she considered one of the links binding her to the past had been
broken. Two years went by; then she met Colonel Bennett at Saratoga,
and three months later they were married.
"Mrs. Irving states that she spent December and the first part of
January in the North, and only returned to Washington the day before
Senator Warren's supper party. On her arrival she had an interview with
Secretary Stanton and agreed to find out and report which women in
society were sending aid and comfort to the enemy. When she saw and
recognized Lloyd she was panic-stricken; not only had she knowingly
committed bigamy, a criminal offence, but exposure meant social ruin.
And while only indirectly responsible for her child's death, she _knew_
Lloyd, and realized that he would stop at nothing to revenge what _he_
considered the child's _murder_.
"From that night she planned to get rid of Lloyd. It was easy for her
to keep out of his way, for he was in Winchester most of the time. Then
she remembered the curari--the poison that left no trace!
"Accompanied by Mrs. Arnold, she visited Major Goddard, and then found
out where their rooms were located and how to reach them. Fate played
into her hands, for on that sixth of March she met Aunt Dinah, whom she
knew, having lived at Mrs. Lane's with her husband when he was first
ordered to duty in Washington. Aunt Dinah, who was returning from
executing an errand at Brown's drug store, told her that Captain Lloyd
had returned and was lying down in his room. Mrs. Lane had said he was
not to be disturbed, as he was asleep. Aunt Dinah announced she was
dead tired herself from answering the front door in addition to her
other work. Mrs. Irving promptly suggested that she leave the front
door on the latch, and she watched the old colored woman follow out her
suggestion. At last the way was clear. Mrs. Irving knew the house; knew
the hours kept by the boarders; if she was seen in the house she had a
plausible excuse to explain her presence there. So she secured the
poison and committed the murder as already described.
"Mrs. Irving declares that she stole the pocketbook thinking it might
contain some papers which referred to her. She burned the case and its
contents without examining them, such was her haste to get rid of what
might prove incriminating evidence against her. She only took the
pocketbook, because she dared not linger long enough to search Lloyd's
other belongings, as she could not lock the hall door, and she was in
deadly terror for fear some one would walk in on her.
"That is all in the confession which refers to this trial," ended the
judge advocate, as he laid down the paper.
"I respectfully submit to the court," began Warren, rising, "that my
client has been absolutely vindicated, and demand that she be released
from imprisonment."
"The accused has been proven not guilty of the charge of wilful
murder," said Andrews, slowly. "But, Mr. Senator, she has _not_ been
cleared of the first charge. We must first hear Private Belden's
testimony."
The judge advocate rose. "I have here," he announced, taking up an
envelope, "a telegram which was handed to me as I entered the room just
now. I have not had a moment in which to read it." As he spoke he tore
open the envelope. Quickly he scanned the lines, then read them aloud:
"Cavalry Headquarters, April 12, 1865.
Captain George Foster,
--th Infantry,
War Department, Washington.
"I have to report that Private Belden was killed during the battle
of Sailors' Creek, April 6th, 1865.
"H. K. YOUNG,
_Chief of Scouts_".