It was in a cell of the prison of S----. The prison had not been
modernized. It was not a red brick building picked out with white: a
gaol in a harlequin's jacket. Nor was it a snug, free-stone,
gentlemanly house, with big fetters and a figure of Justice over the
door, looking half asleep under her bandage, and ready to drop both
scales and sword. It was an old-fashioned English prison--not a bit
the better for that--heavy, massive, soiled with the smoke of
manufactories, and turning its black unmeaning shoulder to the street,
with one window looking out, like the eye of Polyphemus, over the huge
mouth-like door, where so many victims went in. The interior
accommodation corresponded well with the unpromising exterior. Nobody
could say he had been deceived into high expectations by the outside,
when he found himself ushered into a cell of nine feet by six, with a
grated window high up, a chair, a table, and a bed. It was just what
the bricks in the wall foretold. There sat Chandos Winslow, by the
table, with fetters on his legs. The magistrates were very fond of
fetters. They fettered everybody and everything--oven their own
intellects--and they instantly fettered Chandos Winslow, though the
utility of the thing was not apparent, seeing that he could sooner
have eaten the prison than got out of it; and the injustice of the act
was self-evident, for he had neither committed nor been found guilty
of any crime "worthy of death or bonds."
Chandos was not alone, however. On the other side of the table sat a
gentleman of a very prepossessing countenance, dressed in black, with
exceedingly white linen. He was neither tall nor handsome, but his
figure though slight was well formed, and his face, though certainly
plain, was sparkling with high intelligence. There was a mildness in
it too, which chastened the vivacity; and an earnestness which gave
depth to the whole. You have seen him, reader, have you not, either
moving the hearts of the jury, and shaking the opinions of the judge;
or pouring forth in the Commons those rich, clear streams of
convincing eloquence, which carried heart and mind away with them. He
is gone! The brief bright career is finished! The grave holds him!
Peace to his ashes! honour to his memory!
And now he sat opposite Chandos Winslow gazing in his face with those
large earnest eyes of his, and addressing to him a solemn and
impressive exhortation. He had known him intimately for some years;
indeed, they were distantly connected, for Lady Winslow had been a
Devonshire woman; and the eminent barrister had come down at once, at
a great sacrifice, to make himself master of his friend's case in
person, more completely than he could have done, had he trusted alone
to briefs and consultations.
"My dear Chandos," he said, "the very first thing between us must be
perfect frankness. I have got rid of your solicitor, because he might
be an impediment; but I must know exactly how you stand, in every
respect, in order that I may defend you to the best of my ability."
"Of course, F----." said Chandos, "you do not suppose me guilty of the
murder of poor Roberts."
"Guilty of his murder, I certainly do not," answered the barrister;
"but a man may produce death without being guilty of murder. Now you
are all a very vehement family. Your father was hasty, your brother is
still more so; and you are yourself not without a tinge of the family
infirmity. You are by no means an unlikely man to strike a rash blow
in a moment of passion; but all I say is, you must give me a clear
view of all the circumstances, not for your own sake alone, but for
mine; for you must recollect that a lawyer, if he be worthy of his
calling--which is a high one whatever men may say--considers his own
honour as involved in the manner in which he conducts a cause; and he
never can do so well, without full and candid explanations on the part
of his client."
There are various modes of smoothing the way to confession, and the
great lawyer was trying one of them.
"All you say is very true," answered Chandos Winslow, "and had I any
acknowledgment to make, I assure you I would do it at once; but I give
you my word of honour as a gentleman, I declare by everything I hold
most sacred, that I had as much to do with this crime as you have."
"Well, I must believe you," replied the barrister; "I am sure you
would not deceive me in such a case, and with such asseverations. But
we must look at the case as it stands;" and he took some written
papers and a note-book out of his pocket. "I have read the evidence as
far as it goes," he continued, "as I came down; and I am bound to
inform you, Chandos, that the case looks very serious. I find, first,
that there was some dispute between you and your father's late
steward, proved by a letter found upon his person. This may be a
trifle; but stress may be laid upon it, and it may be magnified by
other circumstances into a fact of great importance. Secondly: it
appears that he came over to seek you at Northferry House, and went
out into the gardens in search of you. Thirdly: I perceive that it is
established beyond all doubt, that you were at, or very near the spot
where the event took place, at the time of its occurrence. A man named
Sandes saw you going in that direction, as did also his nephew. They
vary as to the time, I see: one says, it was not three minutes before
five; the other, five or ten minutes. Something may be made out of
that. Fourthly: it appears from the testimony of these two men, that
you had a Dutch hoe in your hand at the time they met you. Fifthly:
that a similar implement was found near the body, the edge being
covered with blood and gray hair. Sixthly: the surgeon pronounces the
wound which produced death to have been inflicted by such an
instrument. And seventhly: that the hoe found belonged to you.
Moreover, it is shown, that a few minutes after five, you returned to
your cottage in great agitation, washed your hands, and threw away the
water yourself. Nevertheless, some large marks of blood are found on
the dress which you wore that evening; and it is at the same time
shown, that though you might have quitted the garden without meeting
Mr. Roberts, as you assert, yet you must have passed to and fro from
the hedge to the very spot where the body lay, for there were traces
exactly fitting your shoe both ways, and one of the footprints was
marked with blood, as if you had stepped in the pool which lay round
the poor man's head when he was found."
Chandos listened with sad and serious attention till his friend
paused, and then replied: "It is certainly, as you say, a case of
heavy suspicion; and, what is more, my dear F----, I do not know that
I can do anything to remove it."
The barrister looked very grave. "My dear Chandos," he said,
"something must be done. You must give some account of your
proceedings--you must make some statement--or you are inevitably lost.
It is rare in instances such as this, where circumstantial evidence is
all which judge or jury have to guide them, that so strong and
unbroken a train is to be found against an accused person. In Heaven's
name! say something--tell me something."
"To you, I will," answered Chandos; "but it is upon one condition
alone, namely, that you give me your word of honour, not to use in my
defence any of the facts I am going to state, without my permission."
"It is a strange request; and I cannot conceive the motives," replied
the other; "but as you have it in your own power to grant or withhold
your confidence, I must accede, as your friend. Were I merely your
counsel, I would refuse."
"Well then, on that condition, I will tell you all that occurred on
that night, with the exception of one single fact," said Chandos; "and
you will see that I could break to atoms this chain of circumstantial
evidence in a moment, if I thought fit. But I do not. Some of the
facts may be useful, perhaps, as you will turn them, and some I shall
not object to have used in my defence; but others must remain for ever
between your breast and mine. I was in the garden, then, when Roberts
came to seek me. What he wanted, I do not know. I was close to the
spot where he was afterwards found murdered, when he must have been in
the walk leading thither, and not a hundred yards from it. I had laid
the hoe, in a sloping direction, against one of the pillars of a
little temple, covering a fish-pond, and was standing by the pond,
talking to Miss Rose Tracy, when--"
"Stay, stay!" cried the barrister. "Did Miss Tracy know who you really
are?"
"Rose did; not Emily," answered Chandos; "we had met before; and she
has known me all along."
"Ah! then the strange whim is accounted for," said the other with a
smile.
"Not quite," replied Chandos; "but I do not mean to conceal from you
that I love her. However, I was talking with her by the fish-pond,
when we suddenly heard the voices of persons coming quickly towards
us; for poor Roberts must have met another person in the grounds,
after inquiring for me at the house. Rose recognized one of the
voices; I both: and, as I had the strongest reasons for not wishing to
be found there by one of the persons who approached--"
"Mr. Tracy?" asked the barrister.
"No," answered Chandos, in a decided tone; "quite another person. But
as I did not choose him to find me there, while Miss Tracy made her
escape up one of the paths, I ran straight to the hedge, leapt it, and
stood in the ditch of the haw-haw for some time, concealed by the
hedge. While there, Roberts and the other person approached. They were
evidently in high dispute--indeed, they never agreed; but now, it
would seem, Roberts lost all respect; and when they were just opposite
the fish-pond and the little temple, the other person struck him a
blow with his fist. Then, perceiving the hoe, he snatched it up, and
hit him with it, twice, upon the head. I got over the hedge directly,
resolved to interfere, though I knew I should be recognized at once;
but before I could make my way over, poor Roberts lay dead upon the
ground, and the other person, hearing, and perhaps seeing some one
coming, had fled."
"Your brother!" said the barrister, in a tone of full conviction.
"Not even to you, my dear friend, will I say who that person was,"
replied Chandos. "Suffice it that I raised poor Roberts from the
ground, covered my hands and coat with blood, and perhaps my feet
also. I soon found that life was quite extinct; and, in horror and
anguish, which I will not trouble you with describing, I laid the body
down again, and returned to my cottage, in the hope of escaping all
question as to the perpetrator of the crime. At first, I never thought
that suspicion might attach to myself; but when I began to look at the
matter more closely, I saw the danger in which I stood. I then
considered my course; and I made up my mind never, under any
circumstances, to shield myself by accusing the person really
criminal. You must, therefore, according to your promise, let me know
precisely what line of defence you are inclined to adopt; for I will
not consent to anything being done by me or for me to point suspicion
against another."
The barrister fell into deep thought, and for many minutes he uttered
not a word. He was arranging all the facts and circumstances with that
wonderful precision which, when he pleased, rendered the most dark and
intricate subject as clear as noon-light. "Your position, my dear
Winslow," he said at length, "is indeed a very painful and very
difficult one; but I must exhort you, as a man of honour, and a
respecter of the laws of your country, not to let any personal
feelings impede the course of justice."
Chandos waved his hand. "There is no law," he said, "which could
require me to denounce the guilty in this instance."
"Oh yes, there is!" replied his friend: "no tie should throw a shield
over a murderer. But I can understand your feelings, and respect them.
However, your own life must not be risked; and it is now for me to
consider how, if I hold my promise to you, I can frame a reasonable
and legitimate defence. If you simply plead 'Not guilty,' and give no
account of yourself which may break through the chain of evidence
against you, there is not a panel in all England that will not condemn
you. If you state openly what you saw and heard, there may still be
great doubts and difficulties to contend with: the probability of your
having killed your father's steward will seem greater to a jury as the
case stands at present, than that your brother did so."
"Good God! why?" demanded Chandos.
"Because, in your case," answered the barrister, "a letter was found
upon the dead man, showing that some irritation of feeling had taken
place between you; and in his case there does not appear at present
any reasonable motive for the act. As far as I see things at present,
then, I believe that the best course will be to follow the line you
would yourself desire--to leave the matter vague; to let suspicion
float generally of the crime having been committed by another without
giving it a particular direction."
"But how can that be done?" asked Chandos, in amazement.
"Very easily," replied the barrister, "if your fair Rose be willing to
give her evidence, and have sense enough to give it in a particular
manner. If she will but swear that while talking with you near the
fountain or fish-pond, she heard the voices of two persons
approaching, and that those voices seemed to be speaking in angry
tones, it will create a doubt in the minds of the jury of which you
will have the benefit. She must stop there, however, and not enter
into particulars. Nor must you, in whatever defence we frame for
you--which will require much consideration; for the blood on your
clothes and hands must be accounted for as well as many other
circumstances--nor must we, I say, unless with some corroborative
proof, let you cast the charge upon your brother; for it unfortunately
happens that you have long been upon bad terms with him; that your
father's will has added other causes of family dissension between you;
and that you are next heir to his property. Under these circumstances,
if you were to accuse him when you are yourself accused, without being
able to bring very strong corroboration, and to show some reasonable
cause, you would only create a prejudice against yourself, which would
inevitably destroy you. I will think over it all; but as far as I see
at present, we may very well say, that of the two voices which you
heard as well as Miss Tracy, you recognized one as that of Mr.
Roberts; that not wishing to be recognized before a third person, you
had sprung over the hedge, which perhaps Miss Tracy can confirm; and
that from the other side of the hedge you saw a blow given on the head
to the unfortunate victim, by a man who fled immediately. Luckily, not
being subject yourself to cross-examination, there will be no
opportunity of asking you, if you knew the person of the assassin. The
want of explanation on this point will certainly be an omission which
the counsel for the prosecution will remark upon; and therefore we
must make the whole statement as brief and laconic as possible,
leaving out even some other facts of moment, in order that this may
not stand alone. But we must notice particularly your having returned
and raised the dead body. The difficulty will be to account for your
not giving immediate information; and that will be very hard to get
over. I think I can manage it, perhaps, by some bold figure or daring
appeal to the credulity of the jury. All, however, will depend upon
Miss Tracy; and however irregular the proceeding may be, her I must
see and converse with. I go to town to-night; to-morrow and the next
day I am engaged; but I will see her on Saturday; for I suppose the
trial will come on before the end of the next week. The calendar
at--is light; so that we shall have the judges here very soon."
He ceased speaking. Chandos did not reply, and both sat in silence for
several minutes.
The lawyer saw that there was a great and terrible probability that
the course he proposed to pursue--the only one open to him--would not
be successful. A sort of intuitive feeling that it was a desperate
game, came upon him. There was a want of confidence in the
arrangement; a want of trust in his own powers to carry it out
successfully, which oppressed him. The truth was, it was what may be
termed a mixed case. He was certain of the innocence of his client,
yet he was obliged to pursue as tortuous a course as if his client had
been guilty. The combination perplexed him. Could he have met the
charge with a bold and open defence, with no concealment, with no
reserve, he would have found no difficulty. Had he only had to make
the best of a bad case by legal skill, he might have disliked the
task, without any apprehensions of the result. But now to defend a
just cause insincerely; to prove the innocence of his friend, without
showing the guilt of that friend's brother; to keep back portions of
the truth, when the whole truth, if it could be proved, was Chandos
Winslow's best defence, puzzled and cowed him.
Chandos was filled with very different feelings; and I much doubt
whether I shall be able to convey to the reader any adequate idea of
his sensations at that moment. A sort of despair had come over him--a
self-abandonment--a loss of the bright hopes and strong aspirations
which had lately supported him--a paralysation of some of the great
energies of his nature; while others--the powers of passive
endurance--seemed strengthened and acuminated. He was disinclined to
struggle further with fate. Fortune had proved so adverse, whichever
way he turned, that he hoped not for her favour; and he was unwilling
for a bare chance to expose her he loved to all the pain and grief of
a public examination in a court of justice; to the badgering of rude
second-class lawyers; and, perhaps, to insinuations which he would
rather have died himself than have brought upon her head.
After a long silence, then, he tried to explain his feelings to his
companion; said he would rather not subject Rose to such agitation and
distress; that he was ready to rest upon his own innocence, and to
endure the worst, if that did not avail him.
But the barrister shook his head. "Not so, Chandos," he said, rising
and taking his hat. "I will see Miss Tracy. I will ascertain her own
views. Afterwards, I will frame your defence as best I can, upon the
grounds laid down. But mark me, my good friend, I have a duty to God
and my own conscience to perform; and if I should fail of convincing
the jury of your innocence, I will tell the whole to the advisers of
her majesty."
"But you have promised--you have pledged your honour!" cried Chandos.
The barrister wrung his hand hard. "Remind me of that afterwards," he
said, "and I will prove my confidence in your innocence by fighting
you." Without waiting for a word of reply, he retired.