IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT, IN A TRIAL, COUNSEL MAY ASK ONE QUESTION TOO
MANY
When the Court met, at which the trial of Jacquelin’s suit against
Hiram Still was set, all other matters, even politics, were driven from
mind.
It will not be needful to go in detail into the trial of the case. The
examination of the plaintiffs’ witnesses occupied two days. In the
contest the defendant, to use the phraseology of another arena, was
acknowledged to have “drawn first blood.” On the morning of the trial
the two sides, with their counsel, witnesses, and friends, thronged the
court-house. The counsel, an imposing array, were ranged along the bar,
fronting the bench and the jury-box which was off to one side, and in
which sat seven solemn-looking negroes and five scarcely less solemn
white men. Major Welch sat beside Mr. Bagby, and during a part of the
time Mrs. Welch and Ruth had chairs behind them. By the time they were
all settled it was announced that the Judge was coming.
It had been the practice in the County, when the Judge entered, for the
Bar to rise and remain standing until he had mounted the bench, bowed
to them, and taken his seat, when they bowed and resumed their places.
It was a custom brought from the Supreme Court, before which Mr. Bagby,
General Legaie, and others of that bar had practised in old times.
Now, when the Judge entered he was announced by Sherwood, the Sheriff,
and came in preceded by Leech and McRaffle. And not a man rose. The
Judge walked up the steps to his arm-chair, faced the crowd, and for a
second stood still, as if waiting. Not a lawyer stirred, and the Judge
took his seat. A half scowl was on his brow, but he banished it and
ordered Court to be opened. The case was called, the parties announced
themselves ready, the jury was impanelled, and the trial was begun.
General Legaie was to open the case. It was the custom for a chair to
be placed inside the bar, just at the feet of the jurors. This chair
was usually occupied by one of the older members of the bar. And as
the General had been growing a little deaf, he had been taking it of
late. He had prepared himself with great care, and was dressed with
the utmost scrupulousness—a black frock coat, white trousers, a high
stock, and immaculate linen—and when the case was called he stood up.
He presented a striking figure. The gravity of the occasion spoke in
every line of his weather-beaten, high-bred face. To his mind it was
not a mere question of title to property he was to argue; it was the
question between the old and the new—it was a civilization that was
on trial. He took the papers in his hand, glanced with some curiosity
along the lines of the jury, and faced the judge.
“If the Court please——” he began, in a calm, well-modulated voice
that brought an instant hush over the whole court-room.
His words appeared to wake the judge from a lethargy. He, however, took
no notice whatever of the General, but addressed the sheriff.
“Put that man behind the bar.”
The Sheriff was mystified, and looked first around him and then at the
judge, in a puzzled way, to see whom he referred to.
“Suh?”
“Make that man get behind the bar.” He simply glanced at the General.
This time the negro took in what he meant, and he approached the
General doubtfully. The General had not caught all the words, but he
had heard a part of it, and he also looked around. But seeing no one
to be removed, and not understanding the cause of the order, he was
just beginning again: “If the Court please——” when the negro came up
to him. The General stopped and looked at him inquiringly.
“De Cote say you is to git behine de bar,” said the Sheriff. The
General leaned forward, his hollowed hand raised to his ear.
“De Cote say you is to git behine de bar.”
The General turned sharply to the bench and shot one piercing look at
the Judge; then, seeming to recollect himself, wheeled about, walked
across to Steve and laid the papers of the suit on the bar before him,
took up his hat, turned his back squarely on the Court, and faced the
Bar:
“Good-morning, _gentlemen_.” He made them a low bow, clapped his hat on
his head, and marched out of the court-room.
It made a sensation. Steve Allen rose and asked the Court to postpone
the case until after dinner, the hour for which was approaching.
General Legaie, he said, was the leading counsel on their side.
“Proceed with the case,” said the judge.
It was conceded that the action of General Legaie was a loss to the
plaintiffs’ side, but every one on that side sustained him. They did
not see how a gentleman could have done otherwise.
The case proceeded without him.
It was attempted to show that Mr. Gray could not have owed all the
money Still claimed, and that, if he did owe it, before Still brought
suit he must have received from Red Rock crops enough to reduce the
amount largely, if not to discharge it.
The investigation was fought at every point by Still’s counsel, and
the Judge almost uniformly ruled in favor of their objections, so that
Steve Allen had hard work to maintain his composure. His eyes flashed
and a cloud lowered on his brow as he noted exception after exception.
At length the Court began to head him off from even this protection,
by ruling, whenever Captain Allen rose, that he was out of order.
When Court adjourned the second day it was felt that except for the
suspicious fact that Still had not endorsed any credit on the bonds, no
fraud had been shown in his title to them. Witnesses who had been put
on the stand to show facts tending to prove that he could not have had
any such amount of money had been ruled out. It was conceded that under
the Court’s ruling no sufficient ground had been established to upset
Still’s title. The defendant’s counsel were jubilant, and that night
debated whether they should put any witnesses on the stand at all.
Leech was against it. The Judge was with them, he maintained. Mr. Bagby
was acquiescent, but Major Welch insisted that, at least, he should go
on the stand to state his connection with the case. He did not intend
that it should appear of record that his name had been connected with
a charge of fraud, and that, when he had had the opportunity to go on
the stand and deny it, he had failed to do so. Mr. Bagby’s eyes lit up
with a gleam of satisfaction as he listened to him, partly because of
pride in his client, and partly, perhaps, because of the discomfiture
of Leech and his client. The old lawyer was content either way, for he
did not see how he could possibly be hurt, whatever might happen. So,
next morning, the defence began to take evidence, and after they began
to introduce witnesses it was necessary to go fully into the case. It
was, however, plain sailing: wind and tide, in shape of the sympathy
of the Court, were with them, and as often as Captain Allen interposed
objections they were ruled out. Witnesses were put up to show that
Still had always been a keen business man, and had at various times
lent money to his neighbors, including Mr. Gray. Mr. Gray’s confidence
in him was proved, and it was shown that he had relied on him so far
as to send him South as his agent. Still was ostentatiously offered
by Leech as a witness to prove everything, but was objected to on
the ground that the other party to the transaction was dead, and was
necessarily held incompetent. All the merit, however, of what he might
prove was secured. An undisputed bond of Mr. Gray’s was put in proof.
It was dated at the outbreak of the war, and was the bond given for
money to help equip the Red Rock Company. This bond was taken from the
bundle of papers in the old suit which Still had brought, and whilst it
was being examined the other papers in the file were left spread out on
the bar before Leech, with the big bond lying by itself until it should
be offered in evidence. In this way a presumption was raised as to
Still’s means and ability to lend money. Just then it became necessary
to show the time when Still went South, in order to connect the large
bond with that visit. An attempt was made to do this, but the witnesses
put on the stand to prove it got confused on cross-examination and
differed among themselves by several years. It was now night, and Leech
was anxious to close the case. Things had been going so smoothly that
he was impatient. He glanced around the court-room.
“Is there no one here who was present when you went or came back?” he
asked Still, with a frown. Still looked about him.
“Yes, there’s a nigger. He was there both when I went away and when I
came back. He used to work about the house.” He pointed to Doan, who
stood behind the bar in the throng of spectators. “But I don’t want to
put him on,” he whispered. “I don’t like him.”
“Oh! nonsense! It’s only a single fact, and if we can prove it by one
witness, it’s as good as by a hundred.” He turned and spoke to Doan
from his seat.
“Come around and be sworn.” Doan came to the clerk’s desk and was
sworn. He was told by Leech that he need not sit down, as there was
only one question to be asked. So he stood just in front of the
bar, where the papers were spread on it, looking self-conscious and
sheepish, but very self-important. Leech put his question.
“Do you know when Mr. Still was sent South by Mr. Gray?”
“Yes, suh. Cose I does. I was right dyah. See him de night he come
back.”
“Well, tell those gentlemen when it was,” said Leech. A shade of
impatience crossed his face as Doan looked puzzled. “What year it was?”
He leaned over and touched the big bond lying on the bar before him,
preparatory to putting it in evidence. The act seemed to arouse the
negro’s intellect.
“Well, I don’ know nothin’ ’bout what year ’twuz,” he said, “but I
knows _when_ ’twuz.”
“Well, _when_ was it? And how do you know when it was?” Leech asked,
sharply.
“‘Twuz when de big picture o’ de ghos’ in de gret hall fall down the
lass’ time, jes b’fo’ de war. Mr. Still had jes come back from de Souf
de day befo’, an’ him and marster wuz in the gret hall togerr talkin’
’bout things, and Mr. Still had jes ontie he picket-book an’ gin
marster back de papers, when de win’ blow ’em on de flo’ an’ de picture
come down out de frame ’quebang, most ’pon top my haid.”
“Stop him! For God’s sake! stop him,” muttered Still, clutching at
Leech’s arm. The lawyer did not catch his words, and turned to him.
Still was deadly pale. “Stop him!” he murmured. A stillness had
fallen on the court-room, and the crowd was listening. Leech saw that
something had happened.
“Hold on. Stop! How do you know this?” His tone was suddenly combative.
“Hi! I wuz right dyah onder it, and it leetle mo’ fall ’pon top my
haid.” Doan gave a nod of satisfaction as he recalled his escape.
“Yes, suh, I thought he had got me dat time sho’!” he chuckled, with
a comical glance at the negroes before him, who roused up at the
reminiscence and laughed at his whimsical look. “‘Twuz in de spring,
and I wuz paintin’ de hearth wid red paint, and marster an’ de
overseer was talkin’ togerr at de secretary by de winder ’bout de new
plantation down Souf; an’ I wuz doin’ mo’ lis’nin ’n paintin’, cuz when
I heah Mr. Still say he hadn’ buyed all de lan’ an’ niggers marster
’spected him to buy and had done bring he barn back, I wuz wonderin’
what that wuz an’ ef dee’d sen’ any o’ our blackfolks down Souf; and
thunderstorm come up right sudden, an’ b’fo’ dee pull de winder down,
blowed dem papers, what Mr. Still bring back an’ teck out he pocket an’
gi’ to marster, off de secretary down on de flo’, and slam de do’ so
hard de old Ingin-killer fall right out de frame mos’ ’pon top my haid.
Yas, suh, I wuz dyah sho’!” He was telling the incident of the picture
and not of the papers, and the crowd was deeply interested. Even the
Judge was amused. Still, with white face, was clutching Leech’s arm,
making him signals to stop the witness; and Leech, not yet wholly
comprehending, was waiting for a pause to do so, without its being too
marked. But Doan was too well launched to stop. He flowed on easily: “I
holp Mr. Still to put de picture back in the frame an’ nail’t up after
marster had done put de paper what he call he ‘barn,’ in de hole behine
it, an’ I tell you I didn’t like it much nohow. An’ Mr. Still didn’
like it much nurr.”
“Stop him!” whispered Still, agonizingly.
“Here, this is all nonsense,” broke in Leech, angrily. “You don’t know
what Mr. Still thought. You know that he came back from the South some
year that there was a thunderstorm, and a picture was blown out of a
frame or fell down. And that’s all you know. You don’t know what Mr.
Still thought or anything else.” But Doan was by this time at his ease,
enjoying the taste of publicity.
“Yas, suh, I does, cuz I hear him say so. I holp him nail de picture
back after marster had done put dem very papers Mr. Still gi’ him back
in de hole behine it. An’ I hear Mr. Still tell marster ’t ef it wuz
him he’d be skeered, cuz dee say ’twuz bad luck to anybody in de house
ef de picture fall; and marster say he wa’n’t skeered, dat ef anything
happen to him he could trust Mr. Still, an’ he’d put de papers in de
hole behine de picture, so ef anyone ever fine ’em dee’d see what a
faithful man he had; he had trus’ him wid he barn for thousan’s o’
dollars, an’ he brung it back, an’ he gwine nail de picture up now so
’twon’ come down no mo’.”
“Oh! Your master said he felt he could trust Mr. Still?” said Leech,
brightening, catching this crumb of comfort.
“Yas, suh.”
“And what did Mr. Still say?”
“He say he could too.” The crowd laughed.
“And he nailed the picture up securely?”
“Yas, suh. I holped him. Marster sont me to teck Marse Rupert out, cuz
he wuz dabblin’ he little byah foots in de paint on de hearth, trackin’
up de flo’, an’ had done step’pon one o’ de barns whar blow’ down, an’
mark it up; an’ he tell me when I come back to bring hammer an’ nails
to nail de picture up, an’ so I done.”
Still was again squeezing his counsel’s arm painfully, whispering him
to stop the witness. But Leech had to ask one more question.
“You brought the nails and nailed it up?”
“Yes, suh, me an’ Mr. Still. An’ Marse Rupert he come back, and Mr.
Jack dyah wid him, an’ say he gwine help too. He wuz always pesterin’
roun’, dem days.” This in pleasant reminiscence to the crowd.
“You can stand aside,” said Leech, contemptuously. He gave a sigh of
relief, and Doan was turning slowly to go.
“Hold on.” Steve’s deep voice broke in. Jacquelin was whispering to
him eagerly. A new light had come into his eyes, and he was scanning
Still’s white face, on which the beads of sweat had stood during the
whole examination. Steve, still listening to Jacquelin’s rapid speech,
rose slowly to get the bond lying on the bar. Before he could reach
it however, McRaffle, one of the counsel associated with Leech, partly
resenting the neglect of himself and wishing to earn his fee, leant
forward. He would, at least, ask one question.
“You nailed it up securely, and that was the last time it fell.” He
spoke rather in affirmation than question.
“Nor, suh; it done fall down two or three times since den. Hit fall de
day marster wuz kilt, an’ hit fall de evenin’ Mr. Still dyah got de
papers out de hole agin. Dat’s de evenin’ Mr. Leech dyah ’rest Marse
Jack. Mr. Leech know ’bout dat.”
Suddenly a voice rang through the court-room.
“It’s a lie! It’s all a d—d lie!” It was Hiram Still, and he had
sprung to his feet in uncontrollable agitation, his face livid. Every
eye was turned on him, and Leech caught him and pulled him down
forcibly into his seat, rising in his place and addressing the Court.
“If your honor please,” he said, “all of this is irrelevant. I have no
idea what it is all about; but it has no bearing whatever on this case:
a lot of stuff about a picture falling down. I shall ask you to exclude
it all from the jury——”
“But I will show whether or not it is relevant,” asserted Steve. He had
picked up the bond from the bar and held it firmly. His voice had a new
ring in it.
Leech turned on him angrily, but caught his eye and quieted down. He
addressed the Court again.
“I will show how impossible it is for it to be accepted. Can you read
or write?” he demanded of Doan, who stood much puzzled by what was
going on.
“Nor, suh.”
“And you cannot tell one paper from another, can you?”
“Nor, suh. But ef de paper Mr. Still got out from behine de picture
dat evenin’ I see him git up in de hole after you brung Marse Jack
away, is de one I see him gi’ marster an’ see him put in dyah, hit’s
got Marse Rupert’s foot-track ’pon it—least his toe-tracks—whar
he’d been dabblin’ in de fresh paint on de hearth; cuz dat’s de reason
marster meek me cyar him out, cuz he step ’pon de barn whar blown down
on de hall-flo’ wid red paint, an’ track up de flo’ runnin’ after it.”
(Here Steve, with a bow, handed the bond across to Major Welch.) “I see
marster when he put de paper in de bundle an’ Mr. Still put it up in de
hole behine de picture, an’ I see Mr. Still when he git up in de hole
an’ teck it out de evenin’ de picture fall down after mistis an’ all
de white folks come ’way to de cote-house after Marse Jack. Ef it’s de
same barn hit’s got he toe-marks on hit in red paint, cuz I can show
you de tracks on de hall flo’ now. Hit’s dim, but hit’s dyah on de flo’
still. Ef you go dyah wid me I can show’t to you.”
At this moment Major Welch, who had been holding the bond in his hand
and had studied it carefully, leaned forward and held it out to the
negro.
Still, with a gasp, made a grab for Leech, and Leech reached for the
paper; but Major Welch put him aside without even looking at him.
“Did you ever see that paper before?” he asked Doan. Doan’s face lit
up, and he gave an ejaculation of surprise and pleasure.
“Yas, suh, dat’s de very paper I’se talkin’ ’bout.” He took it and held
it triumphantly, turning it so it could be seen. “Dyah’s Marse Rupert’s
little toe-marks ’pon hit now, jes’ like I tell you.” And as the paper
was viewed, there, without doubt, were the prints—incontestably
the marks of five little toes, as the exclamation of the spectators
certified. Doan was delighted at his justification. “I knowed he
teck it out, cuz I see him when he cut de string up dyah an’ put
it in he pocket, an’ I see de string when I put it back,” he said,
confidentially, to the crowd. “I see him, an’ Unc’ Tarquin see him
too, cuz he had jes come over to see ’bout Marse Jack; an he ax me
afterwards what Mr. Still wuz doin’ in de hole up dyah rummagin’
papers.”
[Illustration: STILL SPRUNG TO HIS FEET IN UNCONTROLLABLE AGITATION,
HIS FACE LIVID.]
“That’s so!” exclaimed a deep voice back in the crowd. “I saw him
in the hole, and I saw him take some papers out and put them in his
pocket.” It was old Tarquin, standing still and solemn in the front row
of the negroes behind the bar.
The Judge roared for silence, and Leech rose and renewed his motion. He
denounced the whole story as nonsensical and absurd.
Steve Allen started to contest the motion; but the Judge sustained it,
and ruled out Doan’s testimony, to which Steve excepted. Then Leech
calmly offered the bond in evidence, and announced that they were
through and wanted no argument.
Steve Allen offered to put Doan on the stand as his witness, but Leech
objected; the plaintiffs had closed their case, he said. And so the
Court ruled. Steve Allen claimed the right to put the witness on the
stand, asserting that it was in rebuttal. But the Court was firm. The
Judge declined “to hear ghost stories.” Steve insisted, and the Court
ordered him to take his seat. He was “out of order.” The case was
closed, and he wanted to hear no argument. In such a case the verdict
of a jury was not obligatory on the Court, it was only to instruct the
mind of the chancellor. He had heard all that the jury had heard, and
his mind was clear. He would instruct them to bring in a verdict that
no fraud had been shown, and the defendants would prepare a decree
accordingly.
On this Steve suddenly flamed out. He would like to know, he said, when
he had been in order in that court. It was an outrage on decency; the
rulings of the Court were a cover for fraud.
He was certainly out of order now. The Judge was angry, but he was not
afraid.
“Take your seat, sir,” he shouted. “I will commit you for contempt.”
The anger of the Judge cooled Steve’s.
“If you do, it will certainly be for _contempt_,” he said, recovering
his composure. He was looking the Judge squarely in the eyes.
“I will put you in jail, sir!”
“It has no terrors for me. It is more honorable than your court.”
“I will disbar you!” roared the Judge.
“You have substantially done it in this case,” said Steve.
The Judge was foaming. He turned to the clerk and commanded him to
enter an order immediately striking Steve’s name from the roll of
attorneys practising in that court, and ordered the Sheriff to take him
into custody. The excitement was intense. Instinctively a number of
men, Andy Stamper among them, moved up close to Steve and stood about
him. The colored Sheriff, who had started, paused and looked at the
Judge inquiringly. The Judge was just beginning to speak again to the
Sheriff, but his attention was arrested.
At this moment Jacquelin rose. His calm manner and assured voice
quieted the hubbub; and the Judge looked at him and waited. As his
counsel was disbarred, Jacquelin said, he should ask the Court to
allow him to represent himself at this juncture, and also his brother,
who was still a minor. He calmly stated the series of events that
had prevented their knowing before the facts that had just then been
disclosed, and which made everything clear; and he asked leave to amend
their bill, or to file a new one, on the ground of after-discovered
evidence. With the new light thrown on the case, he traced Still’s
action step by step, and suddenly wound up with a charge that Still had
arrested his brother to get him out of the way and destroy the danger
of his testimony. A roar of applause burst from the white men present,
in whom a ray of hope began to shine once more. Jacquelin sat down.
Of all the people in the court-room the Judge was the most calm. He was
as motionless as a sphinx. As Jacquelin took his seat there was a brief
pause of deathly stillness. The Judge looked at Leech and waited. The
latter caught the signal and his face lit up. He put his hand on the
bar, and leant forward preparatory to rising to his feet. Before he
could make another motion Major Welch rose. Every eye was turned on
him. Old Mr. Bagby gazed up at him, his lips slightly parted, his eyes
filled with wonderment. Leech, with his hand resting on the bar and his
body bent forward, waited. The Judge turned his gaze to Major Welch.
The silence became almost palpable. Major Welch’s face was pale, and
the lines, as seen in the dim light, appeared to have deepened in it.
His form was erect.
“If your honor please,” he began, “I am a defendant in this case, and
hold as a purchaser under the other defendant a considerable part of
the property sought to be recovered by the plaintiffs. I bought it
honestly and paid for it, believing that it was the land of the man
from whom I bought, and I still hold it. There have been a number
of things since that I have not been able to understand until now.
I have observed closely all that has gone on here to-day, and have
heard all that has just been said. I wish to say that, as far as I
am concerned—so far as relates to the part of the property formerly
belonging to Mr. Jacquelin Gray and his brother now held by me—I am
satisfied. It will not be necessary for the plaintiffs to take the
step that has just been proposed, of filing a new bill. From certain
facts within my own knowledge, and which I did not understand before,
but on which, what has just taken place has thrown a full light, I am
quite satisfied. And if the complainants will prepare a proper deed
reconveying the land—my part of the land—to them, I will execute
it without further delay, and will make such restitution as I can.
I have lost what I put into it, which is a considerable part of all
I possessed in the world. But”—he paused for a second—“there is
one thing I have not lost, and I do not propose to lose it. I am not
willing to hold another man’s property which he lost by fraud.” (For
the first time he turned and faced the bar. His voice which, if firm,
had been grave and low, suddenly became strong and full, with a ring in
it of pride.) “I shall expect them to make a declaration of record that
every transaction, so far as I at least was concerned, was free from
any taint of suspicion.” He sat down, amid a deathly silence. The next
moment, from all through the court-room, there was a cheer that almost
took the roof off. The Judge scowled and rapped, but it was beyond
him; and in spite of his efforts to restore order, the tumult went on
wildly, cheer after cheer, not only for the act, but for the man.
Ruth, who all through the scene had been sitting beside her mother,
holding her arm tightly, her face as white as her handkerchief, in a
fit of uncontrollable emotion burst into tears and threw herself into
her mother’s arms; and Mrs. Welch’s eyes were glistening and her face
was lit by a glow which she did not always permit to rest there.
Old Mr. Bagby had sat half-dazed by his client’s action—wonder,
dissatisfaction, and pride all contending in his countenance for
mastery. Before his client was through, pride conquered, and as Major
Welch took his seat the old lawyer leant forward, placed his hand on
the back of Major Welch’s and closed it firmly. That was all.
As Major Welch sat down Jacquelin sprang to his feet. His face was
almost as white as Major Welch’s.
“If the Court please——” he began. But it was in vain that he strove
to speak. Cheers for Major Welch were ringing, and the Judge, his
face livid with wrath, was rapping. Jacquelin was waving his hand to
quiet the crowd. “If the Court please,” he repeated, “I wish to make a
statement.”
“Sit down,” said the Judge, shouting angrily to the Sheriff to restore
order. Jacquelin sat down, and the cheers began to subside.
Leech and his associates had been struck dumb with astonishment. They
gazed on Still in blank dismay, and, as Jacquelin resumed his seat,
Leech leaned over and spoke to Still. Still sat motionless, his face
ashy, his cheeks twitching, his eyes dull. Just at that moment there
was a crash outside close to the window. A restive horse had broken
loose. There was a shrill neigh and the sudden trample of feet as he
dashed away through the darkness. Hiram Still sank forward and rolled
from his chair in a heap on the floor.
The Court adjourned for the night, and the crowd poured from the
court-room.
As Ruth and her mother came out, the darkened green was full of groups
of men all eagerly discussing the occurrence and its probable effect on
the case. Major Welch’s name was on every lip.
“Danged if I believe he’s a Yankee, anyway!” said a voice in the
darkness as Ruth and Mrs. Welch passed by—a theory which gained this
much credit: that several admitted that, “He certainly was more like
our people than like Yankees.” One, after reflection, said:
“Well, maybe there’s some of ’em better than them we know about.”
The ladies passed on in the darkness.
Hiram Still was taken over to the tavern, and Dr. Cary worked over him
for hours; and later in the night the report was current that it was
only a fit he had had, and that he was recovering.
Meantime Leech and Still’s other counsel held a consultation, and after
that Leech was closeted with the Judge in his room for an hour; and
when he left, having learned that Major Welch had gone home, he mounted
his horse and rode away in the darkness in the direction of Red Rock.
The next morning the Judge adjourned his court for the term. The
illness of Still, the chief party in the cause, was the ground assigned.
It soon became known that Still was not going to give up the suit. It
was authoritatively announced by Leech. What Major Welch chose to do
had nothing to do with Still.
“If Major Welch was fool enough,” Leech said, “to turn tail at a
nigger’s lies, which he had been bribed to tell, and fling away a good
plantation, it was none of their business. But they were going to fight
and win their case.”
The Judge left the County, and Still, having recovered sufficiently,
was moved to his home.
The day after the scene in the court-room Jacquelin Gray, Steve, and
the General had a conference with old Mr. Bagby, and then together they
called on Major Welch. They stated that, while they appreciated his
action, they did not wish him to take such a step as he had proposed
under the excitement of an impulse, and they would prefer to bring the
proof and lay it before him to establish the facts they alleged as
beyond question.
“It was this that I wished to say last night,” said Jacquelin; and then
added that he was quite ready to make the entry of record at once that
the Major’s holding of the lands was entirely innocent.
Major Welch heard his visitors through, then said he preferred not to
wait; he was quite satisfied.
“It might have been an impulse last night, gentlemen, but it is not
an impulse now. I have reflected very deeply, you may be sure; but I
am only confirmed in my intention, and my act now is that of mature
deliberation. I only wish to say one thing more: that if I were capable
of holding on to this land, my wife would not permit me to do so.”
He did not tell the visitors that, the night before, he had been
followed home by Leech, who had just come from an interview with the
Judge, and who urged him, on every ground that he could think of, to
reconsider his action and retract his promise; assured him of the
absolute certainty of success, and gave him finally the assurance of
the Judge himself, who had promised to dismiss the suit and enter the
decree.
Nor did he tell Jacquelin that the interview with Leech had come
suddenly to an end by his telling Leech of what he knew personally,
and that he considered him a proper counsel for Still, and the Judge a
proper judge for him to try his case before.
This he did not mention, and they did not learn it until long
afterward.