ON the night of the seventeenth day of July the judge of the criminal
court of McDowell walked into the office of the sheriff. He was in no
altruistic mood, this jurist. Since his fortunate political affiliations
had thrust him into a high estate his dignity sat upon him heavy as a
fog. He had been sent for. It was thoughtlessness approaching near to
disrespect. When the tall jurist entered, the crowd in the office of
White Carter arose.
“Judge,” drawled the sheriff, coming forward, “you must pardon the
centurion for taking this liberty with the tribune, but we were holding
a secret war council, and presently required the fountain of law. I am
sure you won't mind, Judge.”
The fountain of law flung aside his injured feeling with a wave of his
slim hand.
“It is all right, Carter,” he observed. “But why the conclave? Good men
should be abed.”
“'Day unto day uttereth speech,'” drawled the sheriff, “and night unto
night showeth knowledge. And just here the hurt lies. The boys have been
crowding the day and shirking the night turn.”
Then he stepped back by his companions and added: “Young Mr. Huron we
will overlook as familiar in your honor's forum. The other gentleman is
Mr. Hartmyer Belfast, in the secret service of the New York life
insurance companies.”
The judge nodded cordially and sat down by the table. The others also
resumed their seats, while the sheriff removed his eye-glasses, placed
them carefully on the forefinger of his fat right hand, and began to
explain.
“While I was absent, I believe, one Robert Gilmore was indicted here and
tried for murder, which trial resulted in a verdict of not guilty, the
evidence being insufficient to sustain the charge. It now appears
that Gilmore did kill Hirst, and that he can now be convicted with the
evidence in the possession of Mr. Belfast and myself.”
The judge elevated his eyebrows, but volunteered no comment.
The sheriff continued. “At the time of Hirst's death I was not quite
certain that it was suicide. The coat and vest found on the bridge did
not correspond to the trousers and shoes of the deceased, which were the
ordinary rough articles worn by the miners. There was no explanation for
such dress on the part of Hirst. Later I found a miner's coat at Jim's
Ford which corresponded to the other clothing of Hirst. This coat had
been tied in a bundle and thrown into the river above--probably at the
bridge. Stitched in the lining was a pocket book belonging to Brown
Hirst containing some money and a draft on New York, together with a
memorandum of a number of life insurance policies. These matters led me
to believe that Hirst had planned to secure the insurance on his life by
arranging a counterfeit suicide, but by some means the plan had failed
after the evidence had been prepared and he had come to a violent death,
probably by the hand of another.
“But the matter was involved in mystery, and I deemed it best to retain
my conclusions until further developments should appear. I wrote to the
various companies with which Hirst was insured, explaining the facts
which I had determined. They replied that the matter was in the hands of
Hartmyer Belfast, their secret agent, and that I would be advised when
the investigation was complete.
“A few days since the companies wired me that Mr. Belfast might be
expected to appear in my county at any time, and yesterday he called
upon me.”
The sheriff moved a little closer to the table, and the drawl seemed to
slip out of his speech.
“It can now be shown that Robert Gilmore came to McDowell for the
purpose of assisting Hirst to manufacture evidence of a suicide; that he
went with him upon the bridge, and after enticing Hirst to the rail of
the bridge, suddenly threw him over into the river. The train men can
be produced who saw Gilmore when he arrived and when he departed on the
night of the murder. All of this evidence has been carefully prepared.
In addition, it can be shown that immediately after his trial, for some
mysterious reason Gilmore went directly to Philadelphia and arranged
for a conference with the widow of Brown Hirst. Of this Mr. Belfast had
notice, and, by request of Mrs. Hirst, he was present, concealed in
an adjoining room. This conference between Gilmore and Mrs. Hirst was
remarkable. The man was deeply affected, and said that he had come to
tell her the entire history of his villainy, because he loved her, had
loved her always, and now knew that he could never have her. Whereupon
he explained that Hirst and himself had planned to rob the insurance
companies; that Hirst's marriage to her was part of the scheme, but
that he, Gilmore, had grown to love her, and to regret his action in
procuring the marriage, and so frightfully had this grown upon him that
finally he had killed Hirst.
“He then explained the minute circumstances of the death, adding that he
had been tried and acquitted, and would now leave the country, but that
something in his bosom would not rest until he had told her the entire
truth. So we have now, I judge, a complete case, together with the
confession, which, I am told, will be quite proper evidence, and
with such a case there can now be nothing in the way of Gilmore's
conviction.”
“Nothing at all,” observed the judge, dryly, “except the Constitution of
the United States of America.”
The sheriff sat down suddenly and replaced the eye-glasses on his fat
nose.
“You mean,” said the prosecuting attorney, “that the prisoner cannot be
put twice in jeopardy for the same offense?”
“Unless,” responded the judge, “the judicial machinery in McDowell can
be held exempt from the Constitution of the State and the Constitution
of the Federal Government, a conclusion,” he added, with prodigious
gravity, “in which I should rather hesitate to concur upon a casual
hearing. Having been once properly tried for murder, this man cannot be
again tried for the same offense.”
“It has been held,” said the prosecuting attorney, “that where the first
trial was procured by the fraud of the prisoner, the case did not come
within the provisions of the Constitution.”
“True,” replied the judge, “there is an early case in Virginia, and
later cases of record, but the fraud must be gross and apparent. What
fraud could be shown here? The indictment was properly found, the trial
was regular, no suspicion of conspiracy attaches to the officers of the
State, nor can it be shown that even misstatements were made, unless
a plain conspiracy can be shown on the part of this detective, John
Bartlett.” Then he turned to the secret agent of the life insurance
companies. “How about this Bartlett?” he asked.
“So far as I can learn,” replied the detective, “Bartlett made no false
statements. He is a member of Loomey's Agency in New York. It is true
that he called on Mrs. Hirst and requested permission to investigate the
case. What he stated to the prosecuting attorney as facts were facts.
Of course, his theory was wrong, and his deductions incorrect; but for
these, I presume, he could not be held responsible. I have investigated
the matter with care, and while it is extremely probable that this trial
was shrewdly procured by Gilmore, yet it has been so skilfully handled
that no fraudulent proceeding could be shown on the part of Bartlett,
although I am quite certain of his villainy.”
The sheriff rubbed his hands with the bland unction of a Hebrew at a
“fire sale.”
“Jeb,” he drawled, “I guess you're it. I guess the thing is all over but
the shouting.”
“Well,” responded the prosecutor, “I judge there are others. How about
the lamented Jenkins, erstwhile representative of the sheriff of
McDowell? Is the young man Absalom safe?”
A faint ripple of merriment spread over the fat face of the sheriff.
“Boys,” he mused, “it was a keen flim-flam. Let us quietly disperse, and
endeavor to live it down.” Then he added wearily. “It may be good to be
good, but it is safer to be smooth.”
The judge arose. “Mr. Gilmore has been tried and acquitted,” he
observed. “The record is complete. He cannot be held again to answer
for this crime, even though he be pleased to proclaim his guilt from the
housetops.”
“Then,” said the detective, with the dreary deliberation of one retiring
from a failing cause, “this murderer cannot be punished.”