“Well, Luke,” said the Doctor in a kindly voice, “they don’t give you much light in here, do they?”
Very slowly the Hermit looked up from the floor.
“Hulloa, John Dolittle. What brings you here?”
“I’ve come to see you. I would have been here sooner, only I didn’t hear about all this till a few minutes ago. I went to your hut to ask you if you would join me on a voyage; and when I found it empty I had no idea where you could be. I am dreadfully sorry to hear about your bad luck. I’ve come to see if there is anything I can do.”
Luke shook his head.
“No, I don’t imagine there is anything can be done. They’ve caught me at last. That’s the end of it, I suppose.”
He got up stiffly and started walking up and down the little room.
“In a way I’m glad it’s over,” said he. “I never got any peace, always thinking they were after me—afraid to speak to anyone. They were bound to get me in the end—Yes, I’m glad it’s over.”
Then the Doctor talked to Luke for more than half an hour, trying to cheer him up; while I sat around wondering what I ought to say and wishing I could do something.
At last the Doctor said he wanted to see Bob; and we knocked upon the door and were let out by the policeman.
“Bob,” said the Doctor to the big bulldog in the passage, “come out with me into the porch. I want to ask you something.”
“How is he, Doctor?” asked Bob as we walked down the corridor into the Courthouse porch.
“Oh, Luke’s all right. Very miserable of course, but he’s all right. Now tell me, Bob: you saw this business happen, didn’t you? You were there when the man was killed, eh?”
“I was, Doctor,” said Bob, “and I tell you—”
“All right,” the Doctor interrupted, “that’s all I want to know for the present. There isn’t time to tell me more now. The trial is just going to begin. There are the judge and the lawyers coming up the steps. Now listen, Bob: I want you to stay with me when I go into the courtroom. And whatever I tell you to do, do it. Do you understand? Don’t make any scenes. Don’t bite anybody, no matter what they may say about Luke. Just behave perfectly quietly and answer any question I may ask you—truthfully. Do you understand?”
“Very well. But do you think you will be able to get him off, Doctor?” asked Bob. “He’s a good man, Doctor. He really is. There never was a better.”
“We’ll see, we’ll see, Bob. It’s a new thing I’m going to try. I’m not sure the judge will allow it. But—well, we’ll see. It’s time to go into the courtroom now. Don’t forget what I told you. Remember: for Heaven’s sake don’t start biting anyone or you’ll get us all put out and spoil everything.”
V
Mendoza
Inside the courtroom everything was very solemn and wonderful. It was a high, big room. Raised above the floor, against the wall was the Judge’s desk; and here the judge was already sitting—an old, handsome man in a marvelous big wig of gray hair and a gown of black. Below him was another wide, long desk at which lawyers in white wigs sat. The whole thing reminded me of a mixture between a church and a school.
“Those twelve men at the side,” whispered the Doctor—“those in pews like a choir, they are what is called the jury. It is they who decide whether Luke is guilty—whether he did it or not.”
“And look!” I said, “there’s Luke himself in a sort of pulpit-thing with policemen each side of him. And there’s another pulpit, the same kind, the other side of the room, see—only that one’s empty.”
“That one is called the witness-box,” said the Doctor. “Now I’m going down to speak to one of those men in white wigs; and I want you to wait here and keep these two seats for us. Bob will stay with you. Keep an eye on him—better hold on to his collar. I shan’t be more than a minute or so.”
With that the Doctor disappeared into the crowd which filled the main part of the room.
Then I saw the judge take up a funny little wooden hammer and knock on his desk with it. This, it seemed, was to make people keep quiet, for immediately everyone stopped buzzing and talking and began to listen very respectfully. Then another man in a black gown stood up and began reading from a paper in his hand.
He mumbled away exactly as though he were saying his prayers and didn’t want anyone to understand what language they were in. But I managed to catch a few words:
“Biz—biz—biz—biz—biz—otherwise known as Luke the Hermit, of—biz—biz—biz—biz—for killing his partner with—biz—biz—biz—otherwise known as Bluebeard Bill on the night of the—biz—biz—biz—in the biz—biz—biz—of Mexico. Therefore Her Majesty’s—biz—biz—biz—”
At this moment I felt someone take hold of my arm from the back, and turning round I found the Doctor had returned with one of the men in white wigs.
“Stubbins, this is Mr. Percy Jenkyns,” said the Doctor. “He is Luke’s lawyer. It is his business to get Luke off—if he can.”
Mr. Jenkyns seemed to be an extremely young man with a round smooth face like a boy. He shook hands with me and then immediately turned and went on talking with the Doctor.
“Oh, I think it is a perfectly precious idea,” he was saying. “Of course the dog must be admitted as a witness; he was the only one who saw the thing take place. I’m awfully glad you came. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. My hat! Won’t it make the old court sit up? They’re always frightfully dull, these Assizes. But this will stir things. A bulldog witness for the defense! I do hope there are plenty of reporters present—Yes, there’s one making a sketch of the prisoner. I
