“But that will be my bounden duty, Mr. Finn.”
“I can well believe, sir, that though I have myself been bred a lawyer, I may not altogether understand the nature of an advocate’s duty to his client. But I would wish something more to be done than what you intimate.”
“The duty of an advocate defending a prisoner is to get a verdict of acquittal if he can, and to use his own discretion in making the attempt.”
“But I want something more to be attempted, even if in the struggle something less be achieved. I have known men to be so acquitted that every man in court believed them to be guilty.”
“No doubt;—and such men have probably owed much to their advocates.”
“It is not such a debt that I wish to owe. I know my own innocence.”
“Mr. Chaffanbrass takes that for granted,” said Mr. Wickerby.
“To me it is a matter of astonishment that any human being should believe me to have committed this murder. I am lost in surprise when I remember that I am here simply because I walked home from my club with a loaded stick in my pocket. The magistrate, I suppose, thought me guilty.”
“He did not think about it, Mr. Finn. He went by the evidence;—the quarrel, your position in the streets at the time, the colour of the coat you wore and that of the coat worn by the man whom Lord Fawn saw in the street; the doctor’s evidence as to the blows by which the man was killed; and the nature of the weapon which you carried. He put these things together, and they were enough to entitle the public to demand that a jury should decide. He didn’t say you were guilty. He only said that the circumstances were sufficient to justify a trial.”
“If he thought me innocent he would not have sent me here.”
“Yes, he would;—if the evidence required that he should do so.”
“We will not argue about that, Mr. Chaffanbrass.”
“Certainly not, Mr. Finn.”
“Here I am, and tomorrow I shall be tried for my life. My life will be nothing to me unless it can be made clear to all the world that I am innocent. I would be sooner hung for this—with the certainty at my heart that all England on the next day would ring with the assurance of my innocence, than be acquitted and afterwards be looked upon as a murderer.” Phineas, when he was thus speaking, had stepped out into the middle of the room, and stood with his head thrown back, and his right hand forward. Mr. Chaffanbrass, who was himself an ugly, dirty old man, who had always piqued himself on being indifferent to appearance, found himself struck by the beauty and grace of the man whom he now saw for the first time. And he was struck, too, by his client’s eloquence, though he had expressly declared to the attorney that it was his duty to be superior to any such influence. “Oh, Mr. Chaffanbrass, for the love of Heaven, let there be no quibbling.”
“We never quibble, I hope, Mr. Finn.”
“No subterfuges, no escaping by a side wind, no advantage taken of little forms, no objection taken to this and that as though delay would avail us anything.”
“Character will go a great way, we hope.”
“It should go for nothing. Though no one would speak a word for me, still am I innocent. Of course the truth will be known some day.”
“I’m not so sure of that, Mr. Finn.”
“It will certainly be known some day. That it should not be known as yet is my misfortune. But in defending me I would have you hurl defiance at my accusers. I had the stick in my pocket—having heretofore been concerned with ruffians in the street. I did quarrel with the man, having been insulted by him at the club. The coat which I wore was such as they say. But does that make a murderer of me?”
“Somebody did the deed, and that somebody could probably say all that you say.”
“No, sir;—he, when he is known, will be found to have been skulking in the streets; he will have thrown away his weapon; he will have been secret in his movements; he will have hidden his face, and have been a murderer in more than the deed. When they came to me in the morning did it seem to them that I was a murderer? Has my life been like that? They who have really known me cannot believe that I have been guilty. They who have not known me, and do believe, will live to learn their error.”
He then sat down and listened patiently while the old lawyer described to him the nature of the case—wherein lay his danger, and wherein what hope there was of safety. There was no evidence against him other than circumstantial evidence, and both judges and jury were wont to be unwilling to accept such, when uncorroborated, as sufficient in cases of life and death. Unfortunately, in this case the circumstantial evidence was very strong against him. But, on the other hand, his character, as to which men of great mark would speak with enthusiasm, would be made to stand very high. “I would not have it made to stand higher than it is,” said Phineas. As to the opinion of the world afterwards, Mr. Chaffanbrass went on to say, of that he must take his chance. But surely he himself might fight better for it living than any friend could do for him after his death. “You must believe me in this, Mr. Finn, that a verdict of acquittal from the jury is the one object that we must have before us.”
“The one object that I shall have before me is the verdict of the public,” said Phineas. “I am treated with so much injustice in being thought a murderer that they can hardly add anything
