"A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT."
Ratke and Montcalm attended the inquest over the body of Josiah
Green. Men were standing on the shady side of the house, on the two
porches, and strolling about the yard. Justice Sparks had ordered the
outside cellar door to be closed, that the body might not be tampered
with before the official examination. The cellar would still have
been easy of access had not Sparks nailed a board over the hole which
had been cut by Montcalm, and which might have admitted a hand to
lift the fastening hook.
"How do you do, Major?" said a large, slightly corpulent man, with
long chin whiskers, a rumbling voice and a breath which was tainted
with whiskey.
"How do you do, Dr. Rorus?" responded Ratke.
"This is a sad affair," observed the doctor, "a lamentable happening,
a bad job. Terrible, terrible terrible," and Dr. Rorus raised his
eyes aloft. "A man, a fellow-being, struck down, cut off in the very
noontide, or, as you might say, meridian of vigor." At this point the
physician took an uncertain step and waved his fist in the air.
The major, whose own pomposity of language was unconsciously
caricatured by Dr. Rorus, did not fancy listening to the drunken
harangue, but he was obliged either to tolerate it or to beat a
retreat. His friends had noticed that immediately after he had met
the doctor he was less pedantic in his conversation, and his
philosophical and historical allusions were less frequent.
"Have they found any trace of the assassin?" asked the major.
"Strong evidence," responded the doctor, "very strong. There was a
conspiracy. The victim was called up in the middle of the night and
was never seen alive again. He was called by a certain individual
that I won't name now."
"They will not convict William Henry Harrison on such proof," said
Ratke. "I hope they have stronger evidence than that."
"The murderer," said Rorus with his customary redundancy, "the
homicide, the execrable monster, the villain will be punished and put
in prison and made to suffer. With whom is he dealing? With you? No.
With me? No. With a weak man? No. With that mighty aggregation, that
great mass of power, the commonwealth and the State of Michigan. Oh,
the people of Michigan are a wonderful people. They have developed
and grown up to greatness. Plenty of hardship, plenty of enemies to
fight. There is, or was when they grew up, the Indian, the bear, the
wolf, the panther and the hard winters and--poverty and--hard labor,
terrible hard and--the fever and--ague, the rattlesnake
and--hardship. The Michigan boy has the enterprise. You can't beat
him. Best in the world."
"Where is Sparks?" asked Ratke. "I would like to see him."
"Can't say," said the doctor. "Where there's a slight breeze, there's
a cause for it. Where there's a big wind, there's a good deal more.
Evidence must have, has got to have, facts behind it."
"I understand," said the major. "We will talk this over some other
time."
"There is no denying the fact. Major," declared Rorus, detaining
Ratke by clutching his sleeve. "Brace against it and it will push you
back. Try to shove it along and it will kick. I will give my
drug-store, and my practice, and my diploma to any scholar, or set of
scholars, who will disprove what I say, or demonstrate that it isn't
so, either one, mind you, either one. There is a chance for somebody,
a big chance."
"Precisely," acknowledged the major, glancing uneasily about, but
disliking rudely to leave his tiresome companion.
"I claim," said Rorus, "I assert positively, without a tinge of
doubt, there was no profit in that deed, that atrocity, as you might
term it if you was disposed to give it a hard name. Oh, I don't
believe in being mealy-mouthed with these rascals. In the first place
there was no profit to the killer, the murderer I mean, to be more
explicit. He will go to some saloon, and he'll drink. Then he'll
gamble, and he'll lose what he's got, and he'll fight. And of course,
as he's drunk, he'll get whipped and get a black eye. So you will
admit. Major, there is no profit in a black eye. I claim, and I defy
any man to prove to the contrary, aye, I challenge the world, there
was no profit in it to Green. If there was, where was it? There was
the house broken into. There was the $2,000 gone."
"Exactly," remarked the major with a sigh.
"Morality pays," pursued the doctor. "That is the teaching of the
greatest philosophers, and thinkers, and orators, and smart men of
the present day, and of the past, and that ever lived, of Aristotle,
and Epictetus, and Bacon, and Socrates, and Pluto. Oh, that Pluto was
a wonderful man. His philosophy is mild--and gentle--and beneficent
and pleasant."
"If ever you fall into his dominion," observed Ratke, "you will find
it not a pleasant one."
At this juncture, to the major's joy, he was approached by Sparks and
informed that his testimony would be required, and that the jury, the
witnesses and the officers of the inquest were to go through the
house and view the cellar before the outside door was opened for the
admission of the crowd. Sparks carried a lighted lamp in order to
help their observations.
"Here are his tracks plain enough," said Holmes. "He wore rubber
boots."
"I tracked him down south in the sand as much as forty rods," said
the sheriff, whose unpretentious manner up to this time had concealed
his interest in the tragedy. "Then he went to one side. There was a
ways where the grass looked as if it had been disturbed. After that I
couldn't follow him at all."
"It's queer he should go in the sand," commented the prosecuting
attorney, a sleek young man who had red cheeks which were evidently
made so by dissipation. "He ought to know he could be followed
there."
"Murderers don't think of such things," said the sheriff. "They're
generally in a hurry. It's some little thing that they forget that
gets them caught. I wonder what size those rubber boots were. We can
measure the tracks. Who's got a rule?"
The cellar door was now opened, and those who were waiting entered.
The jury with Rorus surrounded the body and drew from it the sheet by
which it had been covered.
With a copy of the statutes in his hand Sparks administered the oath
to the six jurors.
"Here is what done it," said the justice, picking up the broad-ax
after he had performed the official duty just mentioned.
"Terrible blow," ejaculated Dr. Rorus, "terrible. Crashed through the
cuticle, the cutis, the frontal bone, the parietal bone, the
arachnoid, the dura mater, the pia mater and the cerebrum.
Intelligence, in a moment, in a second, in a half of a second, or
less, for it was done instantly, destroyed, stopped, or, more
properly, used up. Did you ever think what a slippery thing mind is.
Major? Intangible, incomprehensible. You can't get at it. You want to
put it under a microscope, but it isn't there. You grab for it, but
it gets away. Whenever you put your hand on it, it slips out just
like a greased pig."
So eager were the spectators to view the proceedings of the inquest
that they seriously embarrassed the jurors in their deliberations and
crowded them almost upon the body of Green. The annoyance at last
aroused the displeasure of Sparks, who ordered two constables to
clear a larger place for the accommodation of the court. The retreat
was slow, like all forced backward movements of a crowd. Those who
were behind had no inclination to move farther away from the object
of interest, and those who were in front were by them prevented from
doing so. Finally motion was imparted to the sluggish mass, which,
reaching beyond the door, settled back with the rearward part
resisting the retrogression. One of the lookers-on, who struggled
most obstinately against yielding his position, was crowded toward
the door; his heels struck the barrel which served as a curb, and he
was precipitated to a sitting posture. Unfortunately for him he was a
lean man, so very lean, that, doubled up as he was, he shot inside of
the barrel, where, helpless and clamorous, he remained with his chin
barely above water and the soles of his feet and the top of his head
forming equally elevated slopes. The excited throng pressed about him
and drove him farther into the well, but he was finally rescued, and
the investigation proceeded.
When the dead body had been critically examined, it was wrapped in
the sheet and removed to the ground floor. Sparks led the way to the
room directly above the cellar, where the testimony was to be taken.
"Gentlemen," said Sparks, "we've met to-day to do our duty, and
that's what everybody orto be willin' to do. One of our neighbors has
been slayed almost before our eyes. Now we want to find out who done
it, and what he done it for. Folks'll expect it of us, consequently
that's what we orto do."
Sparks now proceeded to the examination of witnesses. Dr. Rorus gave
straggling testimony relating to the organs affected by the wound, to
the time and to the immediate cause of death. It was to no purpose
that the sheriff and the prosecuting attorney bade him confine his
attention to necessary facts.
Ratke was the next witness to be called. The preceding day he had
paid Green fourteen thousand five hundred forty-two dollars and
forty-two cents. All except the forty-two cents was in paper. He had
given paper because it was the cheaper currency and it was what he
had borrowed. After he had paid him, Green drove toward home, and
that was the last time he had seen him alive. When asked by the
prosecuting attorney whether there had been any ill-feeling between
him and the deceased, he admitted that there had been. When
questioned as to its nature, he said substantially that, as his
neighbor was dead, he could not with propriety explain their trouble.
He was liable to prejudice. The account which he would furnish might
be biased. A counter-statement from the other party, therefore, would
be necessary to give the jury a correct idea of the circumstances.
That statement it was impossible to obtain. He, consequently, must be
silent respecting their relations. He could only inform them that,
however intense or unjust his animosity, it never would have prompted
him to injure in person, reputation or finance the victim of the
recent tragedy.
Mrs. Green was nearly overcome by grief, and the jury allowed her to
tell her story without being subjected to many questions. She was
quite deaf. She had been awakened by her husband in the night. Green
said William Henry Harrison wanted him to come upstairs, and she,
herself, could hear the calls, though she could not understand them.
From her husband she learned their import. William Henry Harrison
said that he was sick. Then he said that he was very sick and that he
was going to die. Next he said that he was going to have a fit and
that he would break the house. He broke the bed, knocked out some
window lights and jarred loose a lot of plaster. Green at last went
up to see what was the matter. She waited for him a long time, but he
did not come. After a while she became alarmed and ascended to the
chamber. William Henry Harrison acted strangely. She asked him where
her husband was, but he returned an answer so low that she could not
hear him. She thought it was a whisper. She insisted that he should
speak, and he was still obstinate. She tried to pull him from bed,
but she was not strong enough. Then she endeavored to haul the
clothes from him. At that he resisted and even acted mad. She never
saw him so violent before. Whenever she moved the quilt which was
over him, he carefully replaced it again. He would fold it and put it
over his legs, and she saw him arrange it so that a wrinkle would run
across the center. As she continued her attempts to arouse him, he
grew frantic, and she was afraid longer to stay by him. After hunting
through the house she went down cellar and found her husband. She
could not tell what she did during the next few minutes, but she was
sure she did not touch the body. When she recovered from the shock
sufficiently to think and act, she proceeded to Mr. Holmes's house
and awakened him. He, with another neighbor whom he aroused, came
home with her, and watched in the cellar until morning.
"The next witness I shall perceed to call," said the justice, "is
William Henry Harrison Hibbard."
Gently pushed forward by several men, William Henry Harrison took the
chair.
Sparks gravely looked down at the law-book and repeated these words:
"William Henry Harrison Hibbard, you do solemnly swear that the
evidence you shall give to this inquest concernin' the death of the
person here lyin' dead shall be the truth, the whole truth and
nothin' but the truth."
The half-wit stared stupidly at the justice, but made no reply.
"The court is waitin'," observed Sparks. "We want you to speak up."
Still the witness did not answer.
"We're in a hurry," said Sparks. "Do you swear it, I say?"
"No," replied William Henry Harrison.
"What!" ejaculated Sparks, "you won't tell us? Now I ask you again.
Do you swear to tell the truth?"
"No," said William Henry Harrison, "I no swear. Wicked, awful."
"We do not want you to swear or say anything bad," said the major.
"We want to know if you will tell the truth."
"Yes," was the response. "I no lie."
"Now, William Henry Harrison Hibbard," Sparks began, "we want you to
tell us somethin' about the murder. Some think you know more about it
than you care to tell. They kind o' think you know who it was that
hit 'im."
William Henry Harrison's terror of the preceding night was revived.
He remembered the dark-lantern, the hideous face which had peered
into his, the great shadow which had been thrown on the ceiling and
the threats which the ferocious intruder had uttered. He drew down
his head and shoulders and cast an uneasy glance toward the door
which led to the cellar.
"I want to ask you, William Henry Harrison," said Sparks, "what did
you do as you did for? What did you want to call Mr. Green up there
for when you knowed somebody was a-waitin' to kill 'im? There was
nothin' fair about that. It wa'n't as you'd like to be done by.
Answer me now. What did you want to do it for?"
Poor William Henry Harrison, incapable of defense, could only stare
in mute appeal.
"If you don't answer me," threatened Sparks, "I shall take legal
perceedin's agin you. What did you want to do it for?"
"I dono," responded the half-wit.
"Yes, you do know, too," persisted Sparks. "If you called him up
there, you know what you called him for, You orto be ashamed o'
yourself, a-doin' like that. There he'd fed you an' kept you an' give
you your clothes, an' you had to up an' play that mean trick on 'im,"
"Young man," said Dr. Rorus, in his most resonant bass, "do you
realize the position you are taking?"
The prosecuting attorney here objected to Rorus's questioning the
witness.
"Do you know," persisted the drunken doctor, ignoring the objection,
"that you are in insurrection against, aye, assaulting the statutes
of the Peninsular State? For, when you stand in the way of justice,
you are assailing the whole. Do you think the people will stand that?
Why, my dear sir, you never heard the motto of Michigan, did you? It
is 'Tuebor'--I will defend her. And, when the young men of Michigan
say, 'I will defend her,' they mean it. They are ready to fight for
her liberty and her rights and her civilization. At the first menace
they would crowd up by the dozens and the hundreds and the thousands
and the millions. Now answer instantly."
The frightened witness slid to the side of his chair as far from his
interlocutor as he could get without leaving or moving his seat. The
prosecuting attorney again protested that Rorus had no right to
question the witness.
"Rules are for use, sir," said the doctor--"for use when they're
needed. We don't need that rule now. Young man," he continued,
addressing William Henry Harrison, "you are liable to be arrested for
conspiracy, to be put in Jackson inside of stone walls, and have men
ready to shoot you if you try to run away. I will have a man come for
you now. Your honor, send a constable for him."
"Rorus," interrupted the major, "you are drunk or you are a fool.
Your honor, if you will allow me to question the witness, I think I
can extract the information you want. Now, William Henry Harrison,"
he said, turning to the half-wit, "I will let none of them hurt you.
I will keep them off. You like tobacco, don't you?"
"No like now. No like nothin' now."
"But you will like it when we go away," said Ratke kindly, "Jim, let
me lake your tobacco box."
The young fellow who at the hunt after the horse thieves had been
conspicuous in the white hat handed Ratke his tobacco box. William
Henry Harrison, whose scanty supply of tobacco had been partly stolen
from Green and partly bought by pennies which he had accumulated,
took the box and hesitated.
"You had better take it," said Ratke. "You may not have another
chance to get tobacco."
Thus urged, the half-wit transferred the tobacco to his pocket.
"If you will answer a few questions," said the major, "you can leave
us and be away from these men. Then, when I go to Break o'Day, I will
buy you a pound of tobacco. Now, I would like to, know if any one
came to your room last night."
The allusion to the circumstances by which the half-wit had been so
frightened again made him incapable of utterance. His terrified looks
and shrinking posture indicated that he would give no evidence.
"Oh, you aught not to be afraid," said Ratke, "I won't let anybody
touch you. What kind of looking man was he?"
"He big. He awful."
"There," exclaimed Sparks, "now we've got a clue. If you can git him
to tell who he looks like. Major, it'll be a big point."
"Holmes," said the major, "hand me your tobacco box. Have a chew,
William Henry Harrison. Did the man have whiskers?"
"Yes," responded William Henry Harrison. "He have whissers, just like
Misser Sparks."
This unexpected reply drew the general attention to the justice and
brought a flush to the judicial countenance.
"Tell me what he did," said Ratke.
"No," said William Harrison. "He say he kill when I tell."
"Let him come," said Ratke assuringly. "I will give him the hardest
thrashing he ever got. You don't think he will hurt you when I am
here, do you?"
"No, I 'fraid of no one when you here. He come when you go 'way. Come
when nobody here. Night. He shoot, kill, hurt, make blood."
"How do you know he will hurt you?" asked the major.
"He say so. He come las' night. He pull my legs. He say I call Misser
Green. I say I no like call Misser Green. He git mad. Then he say he
hurt I no call Misser Green. He shake me. I call Misser Green. Misser
Green git mad. Man he make me say I sick, I have fit. I break things.
Misser Green he git mad. He come up. Man he lay quilt on my legs. He
say I move quilt he kill me. Man he scare Misser Green. Misser Green
he go with man. Miss Green she come up. She pull quilt. I 'fraid man
come. I pull. I 'fraid now."
"That will do, William Henry Harrison," said the major. "You have
been a good witness. You must admit, Rorus, that he has told a not
improbable story. It is not strange that he should be compelled to do
as he did by the assassin, who was certain that the course Which he
adopted would bring Mr. Green to the chamber. Besides, William Henry
Harrison is not capable of inventing the account which he gave."
"We've heerd all the testimony we can git at," said Sparks, "that is,
so far as we know. Now, honorable jury, I want you to decide this
question. An', while you're about it, git it right if you can. This
lookin' a thing over an' then gittin' it wrong after you've had the
fussin', I don't think much of."
The clerk, with the help of Dr. Rorus, prepared the inquisition, to
which the jury subscribed. The document stated that "The said Josiah
Green came to his death between the hours of one and two o'clock, on
the second day of July, 187--, in the cellar of his own house, by
means of a broad-ax, in the hands of a person or of persons unknown,
and that the immediate cause of death was cerebral hemorrhage
inducing paralysis of the nerve centers, asphyxia, cerevuesisms and
coma."
Mrs. Green's neighbors eradicated the traces of the murder from the
cellar. The broad-ax they gave to Sparks. Back of the barn they
carried the plank, with its discoloring stripe of dark red. They
dipped dry the well, the water of which was bloody and loathsome as
that of the Egyptian streams over which Aaron's rod was stretched. It
could never again be used, for though it would once more be clear,
the sickening thought of the tragedy which had given it that crimson
tinge would appall him who should presume to drink from it. William
Henry Harrison was obliged to carry the family supply of water from
the barn until another well could be dug.
"Trace," observed the major, after they had passed the church on
their return to the farm, "you remind me more and more of your
father. When there was a general struggle to obtain a petty object,
he never joined the rabble. He was willing that others should go
before him. At Green's you sacrificed your curiosity to the curiosity
of others. You might have crowded up and viewed the body, but you did
not. I do not believe you went into the cellar to-day."