THE EXAMINATION.
Geoffrey Haywood, as has been seen, had been quick to seize upon
circumstances, and to take advantage of them by judiciously dropping
remarks that directed the excitement against Carlos Conrad. Perhaps the
circumstances themselves would have been sufficient to do this; but his
well-timed though brief comments had given aid in that direction.
The examination was set down for Friday morning at ten o’clock, and
long before the appointed hour the street in front of Justice Bean’s
office was crowded with people eager to be witnesses of the proceedings.
About half-past nine Mr. Royalton visited Carlos in his cell.
As soon as they were left alone, the lawyer said:
“I have a letter for you.”
“A letter!”
“Yes. As it was directed to ‘Carlos Conrad,’ or his attorney, I opened
it.”
Carlos regarded the speaker intently. It was evident from his manner
that he had something of importance to communicate.
“The letter is from your cousin. It is very brief.”
He handed it to Carlos, who read it eagerly.
“He is a prisoner, but unharmed. He is safe, but cannot help me. Oh,
where can he be?”
“That is more than I can even conjecture. There is some mystery about
it. I cannot help thinking it is connected in some way with the murder.”
“How can he have found out about the murder and my arrest? He cannot be
very far away.”
“It is all a riddle.”
Carlos read the few words again. He turned the paper over.
“It was written on the back of one of his old German letters. BUT HOLD!
Here is something more!”
“More!”
“Yes――see! the signature is erased, and Leonard has written something
in German!”
Mr. Royalton gave close attention.
Carlos translated the words into English as fast as he read them.
Their sojourn in Europe had made the German language as familiar to
the cousins as their own tongue.
“This is what Leonard says: ‘I have hit on a stratagem, which you will
at once perceive, to give you a warning. Do not show the paper you
took from Colonel Conrad’s hands. It will give the murderer information
which he desires above all things to possess. Do not let the paper
appear in the testimony.’”
“Well, well! This is a startling phase of affairs,” said Mr. Royalton.
“It confirms my idea though, that the murderer of your cousin has a
hand in the non-appearance of Leonard.”
“Yes,” replied Carlos, “but it makes the mystery more incomprehensible
than ever. How dark everything looks.”
“One thing is settled,” said Mr. Royalton. “The existence of the
paper must be kept secret. It is difficult to determine whether its
exhibition would work for or against you at the examination. But
this note makes our course plain. It shall not be shown unless future
developments seem to make it desirable. It is now locked up in my
private safe.”
The hour of ten had by this time nearly arrived, and the prisoner and
his lawyer made preparations to attend the examination.
Two officers soon entered. One of them handcuffed his left wrist to
Carlos’ right, and led him from his cell into the main hall. The other
walked behind with Mr. Royalton, and in this order they marched to a
carriage which was waiting outside the jail door.
A restless, noisy crowd hustled around the little procession as soon
as it reached the open air. The policeman behind warned the people
off, but not before a small slip of paper was thrust into Carlos’ hand
by some unknown person. Carlos grasped it instinctively, and looked
quickly up in surprise. No one had seen the action. He himself was
ignorant of who had done it. He looked at the paper furtively. It
contained only these words:
“Look for help. It will come.”
“Another message from Leonard?” he thought. And he marveled greatly.
By this time they had reached the carriage, and all stepped in.
As they were driven rapidly to the justice’s office, a noisy throng of
old and young followed, some running, and many talking busily.
Having reached their destination, they proceeded up a flight of stairs
to the office of Justice Bean. It was a room capable of containing not
more than fifty persons, and was filled in a moment.
Watching his chance, Carlos secretly slipped the message he had
received into Mr. Royalton’s hand.
All were quickly arranged in their proper positions. Pending the actual
commencement of proceedings, Mr. Royalton occupied himself apparently
with consulting some memoranda. But Carlos saw him read the message he
had received from the unknown hand, and watched to see what effect its
perusal would have upon him. It had this effect: Mr. Royalton scowled,
and tore the paper into minute fragments, letting them fall on the
floor.
The justice rapped on his table. Order and attention were at once
secured. After going through the usual preliminaries, the examination
of witnesses began.
Barker, the servant at Elm Grove, was first called, and testified as
follows:
“My name is Miles Barker. I am a servant employed at Elm Grove, the
residence of the late Colonel Conrad. Yesterday morning I got up about
five o’clock, to build the kitchen fire, and do some other chores. I
went into the garden for something, and noticed that the blinds and
window of my master’s study were open. Wondering what he could be doing
so early in the morning, I took a turn around that way. I looked in
the window and saw him sitting in his chair with his head leaning over
on the table. I thought, perhaps, he had fallen asleep there, while
writing the evening before, and went close to the window. I saw some
blood on the floor, and jumped in. I then found that he was dead. I
roused the rest of the house, and then ran down the street to find
Mr. Haywood. I found him in front of his store, and told him about it.
He went up to the house, and I went to find some officers, and the two
young men――the prisoner here, and his cousin. Did not find the young
men, but found the officers, and went back to the house with them.”
_Cross-Examined by the Prosecution._
“I first saw the prisoner on Tuesday last. He called with another young
gentleman to see Colonel Conrad.”
“Did Colonel Conrad see them?”
“Yes; they went to his study. The door was shut.”
“Did you hear anything that was said?”
“No, not any words. Once, when I passed through the hall, I heard some
loud talking.”
“Did it sound like a quarrel?”
“There might have been some disagreement. I should judge there was.
Could not say for certain.”
“How long did the young men stay?”
“I did not take particular notice of the time. Perhaps an hour; perhaps
more.”
“Did they call again?”
“Yes, next day; but the colonel was busy, and refused to see them.”
“That is sufficient.”
_Cross-Examination by the Defense._
“Why did the fact that the windows and blinds were open yesterday
morning excite your curiosity?”
“Because Colonel Conrad is always particular to have everything closed
securely before going to bed.”
“Did you see him the night before?”
“Yes; I took a glass of water to him in his study about nine o’clock.”
“What was he doing?”
“Writing.”
“Did you see him after that?”
“No; I went to bed soon after.”
“Were you disturbed by any noise during the night?”
“No; I sleep in a room up stairs on the other side of the house.”
“After the interview with Colonel Conrad on Tuesday, did the prisoner
and his cousin show any signs of excitement?”
“Not that I could see.”
“Was there anything in their actions, or in those of Colonel Conrad
afterward, to lead you to think that they had quarreled?”
“No, I can’t say that there was.”
“Did any one else call on Tuesday?”
“Yes; Mr. Haywood called, but the colonel did not see him. He was very
busy, and――not to speak ill of the dead――quite snappish.”
“Then he refused to see Mr. Haywood?”
“Yes; but the next day Mr. Haywood called again, and this time the
colonel saw him. It was when the two young men were there. They were in
the parlor, talking with Miss Florence. This was on Wednesday.”
“You know nothing that passed between Colonel Conrad and Mr. Haywood?”
“No; they were in the study, and I went out of doors, in the garden.”
“Do you know anything about the box of gold that Colonel Conrad
received on Wednesday?”
“No. He had it taken into his study, and afterward went in himself and
locked the door. That is the way he always does.”
“Where does Colonel Conrad keep his gold?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps in his desk. It is always locked. Sometimes he
goes to the bank. Maybe he deposits it there.”
“How do you know he keeps the desk locked?”
“I have been in the study often, and have never seen it open except
when he was sitting at it. Before leaving, he always shuts it and turns
the key.”
Numerous other questions elicited nothing further of importance, and
Barker was dismissed.
Thomas Mullen was called, and testified as follows:
“I am employed as stable-keeper at Elm Grove. I went to bed as usual
Wednesday night in my room in the barn. About one o’clock in the
morning I awoke, and thought I heard a noise in the yard. I thought
nothing of it, as the dog made no fuss. He is a good watch-dog, and
doesn’t allow any one to prowl around. Soon after I heard another
noise, and got up and looked out of the window. I saw two men run
across the yard and into the road. I thought they were some chaps
stealing melons, or something of that sort, and, as they had a good
start, I did not give chase. I thought it strange that the dog made no
alarm, but concluded he must have wandered into the orchard the other
side of the house. Then I heard the rattling of a buggy down the road.
I did not get up, and knew nothing of the murder until Barker awoke me
in the morning. He told me about it just as he has told you. We found
the dog lying dead on the ground. He had been poisoned.”
George Johnson, policeman, was sworn, and testified that on the morning
the murder was discovered he made an examination of the premises. He
found nothing out of the way, and made but one discovery of importance.
That was a strap tied to the hitching-post on the road-side. The strap
had been cut, and was dangling to the post.
The livery-keeper testified that the cousins had hired horses of him
on Wednesday, and that one of the horses was found, without a driver,
standing by the stable door the next morning. It was the one hired by
the companion of the prisoner. The horses that Carlos had borrowed, and
with which he had returned on Thursday morning, showed signs of having
had a hard drive. The hitching-strap was cut, and hanging to the bit.
The portion that the policeman had found tied to the post, and that
which remained attached to the horse, were produced, and were found to
match exactly.
This portion of the evidence told strongly against Carlos. A buzz went
through the room, and there were whispers that this settled the fact of
his guilt. The justice rapped for order.
Witnesses were next examined regarding the unaccountable absence of
Leonard, but no light was thrown on the subject. His note, stating that
he was a prisoner, was exhibited, and, after a copy of it was made, it
was returned to Carlos. It only served to mystify matters more, and was
rather damaging than otherwise to the prisoner’s case. Nothing could be
learned as to who put it in the post-office.
Myers, the other policeman, testified that he, in company with Mr.
Haywood and Florence Darley, had made a thorough examination of Colonel
Conrad’s study, as well as of the whole house, and that no money could
be found. In the colonel’s private desk were nothing but papers and
documents of no particular value.
Florence Darley confirmed this; and also testified that during the
night she had heard the sound of a buggy in the road, but had thought
nothing of it.
Mr. Haywood also confirmed Myers’ statement; and testified also that,
during his interviews with Colonel Conrad on Wednesday, the colonel
had alluded to the two young men, expressing his opinion that they were
impostors, and that he feared their errand boded no good to him.
This testimony was the subject of close cross-questioning by both the
prosecuting and defending attorneys, but Mr. Haywood could say nothing
more definite, nor could he be drawn into making any inconsistent
replies. Having thus perjured himself, he took his seat with an air of
relief.
The cashier of the bank swore that Colonel Conrad had made no deposit
for more than a month past.
After all the witnesses were examined, Carlos was invited to make his
statement, which he did briefly, relating everything in detail as it
had occurred except the matter of the paper containing the words “seven
o’clock.” This he omitted, for reasons already known.
The summing up of the attorneys was short. The counsel for the
prosecution analyzed Carlos’ statement, characterizing it as absurd,
and reviewed the evidence carefully, making out a strong case against
the prisoner. His eloquent portrayal of the terrible crime of murdering
in cold blood a well-known and respected citizen need not be reproduced.
Mr. Royalton simply said that he would omit reviewing the evidence at
present. He had no hope, and scarcely any desire, to have the prisoner
discharged. He expected that his client would be held to await trial
at the next general term, and he believed that at that time evidence
would be produced that would honorably acquit him. That evidence could
not be submitted in a complete form now; more time was required to
make desired investigations. His client declined to be examined, and
was ready to submit to the decision of the court. But he warned the
people against allowing their prejudices to get the better of their
judgment――not to render a verdict, even in their secret thoughts, until
a fair, full, and complete trial could be had.
“For then,” he concluded, “revelations may be made that will surprise
all of us. Instead of wrath there may be sympathy, and the prisoner
before you instead of receiving your condemnation, may be proved
innocent, and not only innocent, but the victim of a foul conspiracy.”
Mr. Royalton’s effort was evidently a disappointment to many. A
powerful appeal in behalf of the prisoner had been looked for――a speech
abounding in eloquence and flights of oratory. Numerous precedents had
led to this expectation. It was evident, however, to a close observer,
that Mr. Royalton’s course was not inspired by discouragement, or a
consciousness of weakness; yet his face was absolutely unreadable, save
that there was an expression in it that told of determination, stern
purpose, and a cool confidence in his resources.
The verdict of the court was that Carlos be committed to appear before
the grand jury.
It was now after seven o’clock in the evening and Carlos was to be
taken to Hillsdale on the night train. It must be mentioned that Dalton
was not the county seat, and that the stone jail at Hillsdale was a
much more secure receptacle for prisoners than the small “lock-up” at
Dalton. So, in accordance with the law, he was to be immediately placed
in the county jail at Hillsdale.
His own feelings had undergone no particular change. He was cast down,
more by a sense of disgrace than anything else. He felt no particular
terror; the blind confidence of innocence led him to believe that he
would eventually be acquitted.
When he was conducted from the justice’s office to the jail again,
a noisy, disorderly crowd followed; and when, two hours later, he
proceeded to the railroad depot, handcuffed to the officer, another
throng was in attendance. At the depot it was larger than ever, so that
the officer and his prisoner had some difficulty in making their way to
the waiting-room.
Here another strange and unlooked for circumstance occurred. An unseen
hand was thrust quickly into the side pocket of Carlos’ coat, and
instantly withdrawn. Carlos felt by the weight that something had been
left in the pocket.
This time he was on his guard. He manifested no surprise, but looked
deliberately and searchingly around. His scrutiny failed to discover
the perpetrator of the act.
And now the brief message promising aid came to his mind with startling
suggestiveness. Was a plot in progress to effect his escape? With
outward coolness and with inward burning impatience, he waited and
watched.