In the Grip of Circumstance
The outer room was crowded from end to end, and the atmosphere reeked
with unpleasant dampness. Only behind the little railing before the
coroner's desk was there breathing space, and we sank into our seats
at the table there with a sigh of relief.
One never realizes how many newspapers there are in New York until one
attends an important criminal case--that brings their people out in
droves and swarms. The reporters took up most of the space in this
small room, paper and pencils were everywhere in evidence, and in one
corner there was a man with a camera stationed, determined, I suppose,
to get a photograph of our client, should she be called to the stand,
since none could be obtained in any other way.
I saw Singleton, the district attorney, come in and sit down near the
coroner, and then the jury filed in from their room and took their
seats. I examined them, man by man, with some little anxiety, but they
all seemed intelligent and fairly well-to-do. Mr. Royce was looking
over their names, and he checked them off carefully as the clerk
called the roll. Then he handed the list up to the coroner with a
little nod.
"Go ahead," he said. "They're all right, I guess--they look all
right."
"It's a good jury," replied the coroner, as he took the paper. "Better
than usual. Are you ready, Mr. Singleton?"
"Yes," said the district attorney. "Oh, wait a minute," he added, and
he got up and came down to our table. "You're going to put Miss
Holladay on the stand, I suppose----"
"And expose her to all this?" and our junior looked around the room.
"Not if I can help it!"
"I don't see how you _can_ help it. An alibi's the only thing that
can save her from being bound over."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," retorted Mr. Royce. "I
think the case against her will soon die of inanition."
"Oh, very well," and Singleton abruptly went back to his desk, biting
his mustache thoughtfully. He had made something of a reputation,
since his election a year before, as a solver of abstruse criminal
problems, and had secured a conviction in two or three capital cases
which had threatened for a time to baffle the police. He evidently
scented something of the same kind here, or he would have entrusted
the case to one of his assistants. It might be added that, while his
successes had made him immensely popular with the multitude, there had
been, about one or two of them, a hint of unprofessional conduct,
which had made his brethren of the bar look rather askance at him.
He nodded to the coroner after a moment, the room was called to
order, and the first witness summoned.
It was Rogers, the confidential clerk. I knew Rogers, of course, had
talked with him often in a business way, and had the highest respect
for him. He had been with Mr. Holladay much longer than I had been
with Graham & Royce, and had, as Mr. Graham had pointed out, an
unimpeachable reputation.
There were the usual preliminaries, name, age, residence, and so on,
Coroner Goldberg asking the questions. He was a really good
cross-examiner, and soon came to the core of the matter.
"What is the position of your desk in Mr. Holladay's office?" he
asked.
"There is an outer office for the clerks; opening from that, a smaller
room where my desk is placed. Opening from my room was Mr. Holladay's
private office.
"Had Mr. Holladay's office any other door?"
"No, sir."
"Could entrance be had by the windows?"
"The windows open on the street side of the building. We occupy a part
of the eighth floor."
"The fire-escapes----"
"Are at the back of the building--there are none on the street
side--nothing but a sheer wall."
"So that anyone entering or leaving the private office must
necessarily pass by your desk?"
"Necessarily; yes, sir."
"Could anyone pass without your seeing him?"
"No, sir; that would be quite impossible."
The coroner leaned back in his chair. There was one point settled.
"Now, Mr. Rogers," he said, "will you kindly tell us, in your own way
and with as much detail as possible, exactly what happened at your
office shortly before five o'clock yesterday afternoon?"
I could see that Rogers was deeply moved. His face was very white, he
moistened his lips nervously from time to time, and his hands grasped
convulsively the arms of his chair. Plainly, the task before him was
far from an agreeable one.
"Well, sir," he began, "we had a very busy day yesterday, and were at
the office considerably later than usual; but by five o'clock we had
closed up work for the day, and all the other clerks, with the
exception of the office-boy, had gone home. I had made some notes from
Mr. Holladay's dictation, and had returned to my desk to arrange them,
when the outer door opened and Mr. Holladay's daughter came in. She
asked me whether her father was engaged, and upon my saying no, opened
the inner door and entered his office. She remained, I should think,
about ten minutes; then she came out again, walked rapidly past
without looking at me, and, I suppose, left the building. I finished
arranging my notes, and then entered Mr. Holladay's office to ask if
he had any further instructions for me, and I found him lying forward
on his desk, with a knife sticking in his neck and the blood spurting
out. I summoned aid, but he died without regaining consciousness--I
should say he was practically dead when I found him."
I felt, rather than heard, the little stir which ran through the room.
There was an indefinable horror in the story and in the conclusion to
which it inevitably led.
"Now, let us go back a moment," said the coroner, as Rogers stopped
and mopped his forehead feverishly. "I want the jury to understand
your story thoroughly. Mr. Holladay had been dictating to you?"
"Yes."
"And was quite well?"
"Yes--as well as usual. He'd been suffering with indigestion for some
time past."
"Still he was able to attend to business?"
"Oh, yes, sir. There was nothing at all serious in his illness."
"You then left his office and returned to your own. How long had you
been there before the outer door opened?"
"Not over five minutes."
"And who was it entered?"
"Miss Frances Holladay--the daughter of my employer."
"You're quite sure? You know her well?"
"Very well. I've known her for many years. She often drove to the
office in the evening to take her father home. I supposed that was
what she came for yesterday."
"You looked at her attentively?"
Rogers hitched impatiently in his chair.
"I glanced at her, as I always do," he said. "I didn't stare."
"But you're quite sure it was Miss Holladay?"
"Absolutely sure, sir. Good God!" he cried, his nerves giving way for
an instant, "do you suppose I'd make an assertion like that if I
wasn't absolutely sure?"
"No," said the coroner soothingly; "no, I don't suppose any such
thing, not for a moment, Mr. Rogers; only I want the jury to see how
certain the identification is. Shall I proceed?"
"Go ahead, sir," said Rogers. "I'll try to hold myself together a
little better, sir."
"I can see what a strain this is for you," said the coroner kindly;
"and I'll spare you as much as I can. Now, after Miss Holladay entered
the inner office, how long did she remain there?"
"About ten minutes, I should say; not longer than that, certainly."
"Did you hear any sound of conversation, or any unusual noise of any
kind?"
"No, sir. It would have been a very unusual noise to be audible. Mr.
Holladay's office has heavy walls and a double door which completely
shut off all sounds from within."
"Miss Holladay then came out?"
"Yes, sir."
"And walked past you?"
"Yes, sir; walked past me rapidly."
"Did you not think that peculiar?"
"Why, sir, she didn't often stop to speak to me. I was busy and so
thought nothing particularly about it."
"Did you notice her face? Did she seem perturbed?"
"No, sir; I didn't notice. I just glanced up and bowed. In fact, I
didn't see her face at all, for she had lowered her veil."
"Her veil!" repeated the coroner. "You hadn't mentioned that she wore
a veil."
"No, sir; when she came into the office she had lifted it up over her
hat-brim--you know how women do."
"Yes--so you saw her face distinctly when she entered?"
"Yes, sir."
"But when she went out, she had lowered her veil. Was it a heavy one?"
"Why, sir," the witness hesitated, "just an ordinary veil, I should
say."
"But still heavy enough to conceal her face?"
"Oh, yes, sir."
The coroner nodded. "Now, Mr. Rogers, how long a time elapsed after
the departure of the woman before you went back into the inner
office?"
"Not more than three or four minutes. I thought perhaps Mr. Holladay
was getting ready to accompany his daughter, and I didn't wish to
detain him."
"And you found him, as you say, lying forward across his desk with a
knife in his throat and the blood spurting out. Did you recognize the
knife?"
"Yes, sir. It was his knife--a knife he kept lying on his desk to
sharpen pencils with and erase and so on."
"Sharp, was it?"
"It had one long blade, very sharp, sir."
The coroner picked up a knife that was lying on the desk before him.
"Is this the knife?" he asked.
Rogers looked at it carefully.
"That's the knife, sir," he said, and it was passed to the jury. When
they had finished with it, Mr. Royce and I examined it. It was an
ordinary one-bladed erasing knife with ivory handle. It was open, the
blade being about two inches and a half in length, and, as I soon
convinced myself, very sharp indeed.
"Will you describe Mr. Holladay's position?" continued the coroner.
"He was lying forward on the desk, with his arms outstretched and his
head to one side."
"And there was a great deal of blood?"
"Oh, a great deal! Someone, apparently, had attempted to check it,
for a little distance away there was a handkerchief soaked in blood."
The coroner picked up a handkerchief and handed it to the witness.
"Is that the handkerchief?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said Rogers, after a moment.
"Is it a man's or a woman's handkerchief?"
"Oh, a woman's undoubtedly."
The jury examined it and so did we. It was a small square of fine
cambric with no mark that I could see, soaked through and through with
blood--unquestionably a woman's handkerchief. Then Rogers told the
rest of the story--how he had summoned aid and informed the police.
"Now, Mr. Rogers," said the coroner, when he had finished, "there is
one point more. Has there been anything in your knowledge of Mr.
Holladay or his business to suggest the idea of suicide?"
The witness shook his head decidedly.
"Nothing whatever, sir," he said positively. "His business was
prospering; he was happy and contented--why, he was planning for a
trip abroad with his daughter."
"Let us suppose for a moment," continued Goldberg, "that he did
actually stab himself in his daughter's presence; what would you
naturally expect her to do?"
"I should expect her to give the alarm--to summon aid," replied
Rogers.
"Certainly--unquestionably," and Goldberg nodded to my chief. "I turn
the witness over to you, Mr. Royce," he said.
"Now, Mr. Rogers," began our junior impressively, "you know, of
course, that this whole case hinges, at present, on your
identification of the woman who, presumably, was in Mr. Holladay's
office when he was stabbed. I want to be very sure of that
identification. Will you tell me how she was dressed?"
The witness paused for a moment's thought.
"She wore a dress of very dark red," he said at last, "with some sort
of narrow dark trimming--black, possibly. That's all I can tell you
about it."
"And the hat?"
"I didn't notice the hat, sir. I only glanced at her."
"But in that glance, Mr. Rogers, did you see nothing unusual--nothing
which suggested to your mind that possibly it might not be Miss
Holladay?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Some change of demeanor, perhaps; of expression?"
The witness hesitated.
"I thought she was looking not quite so well as usual," he said
slowly. "She seemed a little pale and worried."
"Ah! It was dark in the office, was it not, at five o'clock yesterday
afternoon?"
"We had turned on the lights half an hour before, sir."
"Is your office well lighted?"
"I have a light over my desk, sir, and there's another on the wall."
"So you could not see your visitor's face with absolute clearness?"
"No, sir; but quite clearly enough to recognize her," he added
doggedly.
"Yet you thought her looking pale and worried."
"Yes, sir; that was my impression."
"And when she asked for Mr. Holladay, did she use the words 'my
father,' as your evidence would suggest?"
Again the witness hesitated in the effort at recollection.
"No, sir," he answered finally. "Her words, I think, were, 'Is Mr.
Holladay engaged at present?'"
"It was Miss Holladay's voice?"
"I could not say, sir," answered the witness, again mopping the
perspiration from his forehead. "I have no wish to incriminate Miss
Holladay unnecessarily. I'm not sufficiently well acquainted with her
voice to swear to it."
"Well, when you answered her question in the negative, did she
hesitate before entering the private office?"
"No, sir; she went straight to it."
"Is there any lettering on the door?"
"Oh, yes, the usual lettering, 'Private Office.'"
"So that, even if she were not acquainted with the place, she might
still have seen where to go?"
"Yes, sir; I suppose so."
"And you stated, too, I believe, that you could have heard no sound of
an altercation in the private office, had one occurred?"
"No, sir; I could have heard nothing."
"You have been with Mr. Holladay a long time, I believe, Mr. Rogers?"
"Over thirty years, sir."
"And you are intimately acquainted with his affairs?"
"Yes, sir."
"Now, Mr. Rogers, have you ever, in all these years, ran across
anything--any item of expenditure, any correspondence, anything
whatever--which would lead you to think that Mr. Holladay was a victim
of blackmail, or that he had ever had a liaison with a woman?"
"No, sir!" cried the witness. "No, sir! I'm willing to swear that such
a thing is not possible. I should inevitably have found it out had it
existed."
"That will do for the present," said Mr. Royce. "I shall want to
recall the witness, however, sir."
The coroner nodded, and Rogers stepped down, still trembling from the
effects of his last outburst. I confess that, for my part, I thought
we were very deep in the mire.
The office-boy was called next, but added nothing to the story. He
had gone to the chute to mail some letters; the woman must have
entered the office while he was away. He saw her come out again, but,
of course, did not see her face. He had been employed recently, and
did not know Miss Holladay.
Then the physicians who had attended the dead man were called, and
testified that the knife-blade had penetrated the left carotid artery,
and that he had bled to death--was dead, indeed, before they reached
him. It would take, perhaps, ten minutes to produce such an effusion
of blood as Rogers had noticed--certainly more than five, so that the
blow must have been struck before the woman left the inner office.
The policeman who had responded to the alarm testified that he had
examined the windows, and that they were both bolted on the inside,
precluding the possibility of anyone swinging down from above or
clambering up from below. Nothing in the office had been disturbed.
There was other evidence of an immaterial nature, and then Miss
Holladay's maid was called.
"Was your mistress away from home yesterday afternoon?" asked the
coroner.
"Yes, sir; she had the carriage ordered for three o'clock. She was
driven away shortly after that."
"And what time did she return?"
"About six, sir; just in time to dress for dinner."
"Did you notice anything unusual in her demeanor when she returned?"
The maid hesitated, fearing doubtless that she might say too much.
"Miss Holladay had complained of a headache in the morning," she said,
after a moment. "She was looking badly when she went out, and the
drive made her worse instead of better. She seemed very nervous and
ill. I advised her to lie down and not dress for dinner, but she would
not listen. She always dined with her father, and did not wish to
disappoint him. She was in a great hurry, fearing that he'd get back
before she was ready."
"There's no doubt in your mind that she was really expecting him?"
"Oh, no, sir; she even went to the door to look for him when he did
not come. She seemed very uneasy about him."
That was one point in our favor certainly.
"And when the news of her father's death reached her, how did she bear
it?"
"She didn't bear it at all, sir," answered the maid, catching her
breath to choke back a sob. "She fainted dead away. Afterwards, she
seemed to be in a kind of daze till the doctor came."
"That is all. Have you any questions to ask the witness, Mr. Royce?"
"Only one," said my chief, leaning forward. I knew what it was, and
held my breath, wondering whether it were wise to ask it. "Do you
remember the gown your mistress wore yesterday afternoon?" he
questioned.
"Oh, yes, sir," and the witness brightened. "It was a dark red
broadcloth, made very plain, with only a little narrow black braid for
trimming."