AN OBSTINATE CLIENT.
"There, sir; I think we understand each other, sir."
"Humph! well, that's according to how you put it. My knowledge is
sufficient unto the day, at any rate. I am to visit Heath at once,
taking young Vandyck with me; I am to insist upon his making a strong
defence, and to watch him closely. Vandyck is to add his voice, and
he'll do it with a roar, and then we are to report to you. Is that it?"
"Exactly."
The speakers are Lawyer O'Meara and "Mr. Wedron, of the New York Bar;"
for more than an hour they have been seated in the lawyer's study,
conversing in low, earnest tones; and during this interval, O'Meara's
valuation of his _vis-à-vis_ has evidently "taken a rise," and stands
now at a high premium. His spirits have risen, too; he views the case of
Clifford Heath through a new lens; evidently he recognizes, in the man
before him, a strong ally.
It is arranged that, for the present, Mr. Wedron shall retain his room
at the hotel, but shall pass the most of his time with the O'Mearas, and
the uninitiated are to fancy him an old friend, as well as a brother
practitioner. Even Mrs. O'Meara is obliged to accept this version, while
inwardly wondering that she has never heard her husband mention his
friend, "Wedron, of the New York Bar."
Evidently they trust each other, these two men, and, as O'Meara has just
said, their mutual understanding is sufficient unto the hour. Therefore,
it being already sunset, they go together to the parlor, and are soon
seated, in company with Mrs. O'Meara, about a cosy tea table.
"It is best that Vandyck should not see me here until after your
interview with Heath," Mr. Wedron has said to the little lawyer;
therefore when, a little later, Ray puts in an appearance, he sees only
O'Meara, and is immediately hurried away toward the county jail.
They find Corliss at the sheriff's desk, his superior officer having
been for several days absent from the town. The constable looks relieved
and fatigued. He believes that within the hour he, single handed, has
conveyed into safe custody one of the most ferocious assassins of his
time; and, having gained so signal a victory, he now feels inclined to
take upon himself airs, and he hesitates, becomingly, over O'Meara's
civilly worded request to be shown to the cell assigned Doctor Heath.
[Illustration: They find Corliss at the Sheriff's desk.]
But O'Meara, who possesses all the brusqueness of the average Yankee
lawyer, has no mind to argue the case.
"I don't know, sir," says Corliss, with some pomposity. "Really, I
consider Heath a very unsafe prisoner, and--"
"The deuce you do," breaks in the impatient lawyer. "Well, I'll promise
that _Doctor_ Heath shan't damage you any, so just trot ahead with your
keys, and don't parley. _My_ time is worth something."
Corliss slips down from his stool and looks at Ray.
"But Mr. Vandyck, sir?" he begins.
"Mr. Vandyck will see Doctor Heath too, sir," interrupts Ray, with much
decision. "And you won't find it to your interest, Corliss, to hunt up
too many scruples."
It filters into the head of the constable that the wealthiest and most
popular of W----'s lawyers, and the bondsman and firm friend of the
absent sheriff, are hardly the men to baffle, and so, for the safety of
his own official head, he takes his keys and conducts them to Doctor
Heath.
The jail is new and clean and comfortable, more than can be said of many
in our land, and the prisoner has a cell that is fairly lighted, and not
constructed on the suffocation plan.
They find him sitting by his small table, his head resting upon his
hand, his eyes fixed upon the floor, seemingly lost in thought.
Evidently he is glad to see his visitors, for a smile breaks over his
face as he rises to greet them.
It is not a time for commonplaces, and O'Meara, who sees that time is of
value, is in no mood for a prologue to his task; so he begins at the
right place.
"Heath, I'm sorry enough that you, almost a stranger among us, should be
singled out as a victim in this case. It don't speak well for the
judgment of our citizens. However, we are bound to set you right, and
I've come to say that I shall esteem it a privilege to defend you--that
is, if you have not a more able friend to depend upon."
The prisoner smiles as he replies:
"You are very good, O'Meara, and you are the man I should choose to
defend me; but--you will have to build your case; I can't make one for
you, and--you heard the evidence."
"Hang the evidence!" cries the lawyer, drawing from his pocket a small
note book.
"We'll settle their evidence; just you give me a few items of
information, and then I will let Vandyck talk; he wants to, terribly."
The prisoner turns slowly in his chair, and looks steadfastly first at
one, then at the other, and then he says:
"Do you really believe, O'Meara, that I had no hand in this murder?"
"I do," emphatically.
"And you, Ray?"
"I! You deserve to be kicked for asking. I'll tell _just_ what I
_think_, a little later; I know you didn't kill Burrill."
Clifford Heath withdraws his gaze from the faces of his visitors, and
seems to hesitate; then he says slowly:
"I am deeply grateful for your confidence in me; but, I fear my actions
must belie my words. My friends, the evidence is more than I can
combat. I can't prove an _alibi_; and there's no other way to clear
myself."
"Bah!" retorts O'Meara; "there are several ways. Let us take the ground
that you are innocent; there must then be some one upon whom to fasten
the guilt. You have an enemy; some one has stolen your handkerchief and
your knife. Who is that enemy? Whom do you suspect?"
The prisoner shook his head. "I shall accuse no one," he said, briefly.
"What!" burst out Ray Vandyck; "you will not hunt down your enemy? This
is too much! Heath, I believe you could put your hand on the assassin."
No reply from the prisoner; he sits with his head bowed upon his hand, a
look of dogged resolution upon his face.
"Vandyck," says the little lawyer, who has been gazing fixedly at his
obstinate client, and who now turns two keen eyes upon the excited Ray;
"keep cool! keep cool, my lad! Heath, look here, sir, I'm bound to
defend your case--do you object to that?"
"On the contrary, O'Meara, you are my only hope; but, your success must
depend upon your own shrewdness. I can't give you any help."
Down went something in the lawyer's note book.
"That means you won't give me any help," writing briskly.
"It's an ungracious way of putting it," smiling slightly; "but--that's
about the way it stands."
"Just so," writing still; "you believe the handkerchief to have been
yours?"
"Yes."
"And the knife?"
"Yes. Stay, send Corliss with some one else, to my office; let them
examine my case of instruments, and see if the knife is among them;
this, for form's sake."
"It shall be attended to--for form's sake. Heath, who beside yourself
had access to your office?"
"My office was insecurely locked; any one might easily force an
entrance, and a common key would open my door."
Scratch, scratch; the lawyer seems not to notice the doctor's evasion of
the question.
"Ahem! As your lawyer, Heath, is there any truth in these stories about
a previous knowledge of Burrill?"
"Do you mean _my_ previous knowledge of the man?"
"Yes."
"I never knew the fellow; never saw him until I knocked him down in his
first wife's defence."
"Yet, he claimed to know you."
"So I am told."
"And you don't know _where_ he may have seen you?"
"All I know, you have heard in the evidence given to-day."
"And--" hesitating slightly; "is there nothing in your past life that
might weigh in your favor; nothing that will give the lie to these
hints so industriously scattered by Burrill?"
"O'Meara, let us understand each other; your question means this: Do I
intend, now that this crisis has come, to make public, for the benefit
of W----, the facts concerning my life previous to my coming here as a
resident? My answer must be this, and again I must give you reason to
think me ungracious, ungrateful. There is nothing in my past that could
help me in this present emergency; there is no one who could come
forward to my assistance. I have not in all America one friend who is so
well known to me, or who knows me as well as Vandyck here, or yourself.
I can not drag to light any of the events of my past life; on the
contrary, I must redouble my efforts to keep that past a mystery."
Utter silence in the cell. The lawyer's pencil travels on--scratch,
scratch, scratch. Ray sits moody and troubled of aspect. Doctor Heath
looks with some curiosity upon the movements of the little lawyer, and
inwardly wonders at his coolness. He has expected expostulation,
indignation; has even fancied that his obstinate refusal to lend his
friends any assistance may alienate them from his case, leaving him to
face his fate alone. He sees how Vandyck is chafing, but he is puzzled
by the little lawyer's phlegmatic acceptance of the situation.
Presently, the lawyer looks up, snaps his note book together with a
quick movement, and then stows it away carefully in his breast pocket.
"Umph!" he begins, raising the five fingers of his right hand and
checking off his items with the pencil which he has transferred to the
left. "Umph! Then your case stands like this, my friend: A man is found
dead near your premises; a handkerchief bearing your name covers his
face; a knife supposed to belong to you is with the body. You are known
to have differed with this man; you have knocked him down; you have
threatened him in the public streets. You are a stranger to W----. This
murdered man claimed to know something to your disadvantage. He is known
to have set out for your house; he is found soon after, as I have said,
dead. You acknowledge the knife and handkerchief to be yours; you can
offer no _alibi_, you can rebut none of the testimony. You refuse to
tell aught concerning your past life. That's a fine case, now; don't you
think so?"
"It's a worthless case for you, O'Meara. You had better leave me to
fight my own battles."
"Umph! I'm going to leave you for the present; but this battle may turn
out to be not entirely your property, my friend. Since you won't help
me, I won't disturb you farther. Come along, Vandyck."
Young Vandyck began at once to expostulate, to entreat, to argue; but
the little lawyer cut short the tide of his eloquence.
"Vandyck, be quiet! Can't you let a gentleman hang himself, if he sees
fit? No, I see you can't; it's against your nature. Well, come along; we
will see if we can't outwit this would-be suicide, and the hangman,
too." And he fairly forces poor, bewildered Ray from the room. Then,
turning again toward his uncommunicative client, he says:
"Oh, I'll attend to that knife business at once, Heath, and let you hear
the result."
"Stop a moment, O'Meara. There is one thing I can say, and that
is,--have the wounds in that body examined at once. As nearly as I could
observe, without a closer scrutiny, the knife that killed was not the
knife found with the body. It was a smaller, narrower bladed knife;
and--if an expert examines that knife, the one found, he will be
satisfied that it has never entered any body, animal or human. The
_point_ has never been dipped in blood."
"Oh! ho!" cries O'Meara, rubbing his hands together briskly. "So! we are
waking up! why didn't you mention all this before? But there's time
enough! time enough yet. I'll have the body examined; and by the best
surgeons, sir; and I'll see you to-morrow, _early_; good evening,
Heath."
"I'm blessed if I understand all this," burst out Ray Vandyck, when they
had gained the street. "Here you have kept me with my mouth stopped all
through this queer confab. I want a little light on this subject. What
the deuce ails Heath, that he won't lift his voice to defend himself?
And what the mischief do you let him throw away his best chances for? I
never heard of such foolhardiness."
"Young man," retorts the little lawyer, with a queer smile upon his
face, "just at present I have got no use for that tongue of yours. You
may be all eyes and ears, the more the better; but, I'm going to include
you in a very important private consultation; and, _don't you open your
mouth_ until somebody asks you to; and then mind you get it open quick
enough and wide enough."