“While my master was busy scolding me Mendoza put his pistol in his pocket, came up with a smile on his face and looked down the mine.
“ ‘Why, Good Gracious!’ said he to Luke, ‘You’ve killed Bluebeard Bill. I must go and tell the police’—hoping, you see, to get the whole mine to himself when Luke should be put in prison. Then he jumped on his horse and galloped away.
“And soon my master grew afraid; for he saw that if Mendoza only told enough lies to the police, it would look as though he had killed Bill on purpose. So while Mendoza was gone he and I stole away together secretly and came to England. Here he shaved off his beard and became a hermit. And ever since, for fifteen years, we’ve remained in hiding. This is all I have to say. And I swear it is the truth, every word.”
When the Doctor finished reading Bob’s long speech the excitement among the twelve men of the jury was positively terrific. One, a very old man with white hair, began to weep in a loud voice at the thought of poor Luke hiding on the fen for fifteen years for something he couldn’t help. And all the others set to whispering and nodding their heads to one another.
In the middle of all this up got that horrible Prosecutor again, waving his arms more wildly than ever.
“Your Honor,” he cried, “I must object to this evidence as biased. Of course the dog would not tell the truth against his own master. I object. I protest.”
“Very well,” said the judge, “you are at liberty to cross-examine. It is your duty as Prosecutor to prove his evidence untrue. There is the dog: question him, if you do not believe what he says.”
I thought the long-nosed lawyer would have a fit. He looked first at the dog, then at the Doctor, then at the judge, then back at the dog scowling from the witness-box. He opened his mouth to say something; but no words came. He waved his arms some more. His face got redder and redder. At last, clutching his forehead, he sank weakly into his seat and had to be helped out of the courtroom by two friends. As he was half carried through the door he was still feebly murmuring, “I protest—I object—I protest!”
VIII
Three Cheers
Next the judge made a very long speech to the jury; and when it was over all the twelve jurymen got up and went out into the next room. And at that point the Doctor came back, leading Bob, to the seat beside me.
“What have the jurymen gone out for?” I asked.
“They always do that at the end of a trial—to make up their minds whether the prisoner did it or not.”
“Couldn’t you and Bob go in with them and help them make up their minds the right way?” I asked.
“No, that’s not allowed. They have to talk it over in secret. Sometimes it takes—My Gracious, look, they’re coming back already! They didn’t spend long over it.”
Everybody kept quite still while the twelve men came tramping back into their places in the pews. Then one of them, the leader—a little man—stood up and turned to the judge. Everyone was holding his breath, especially the Doctor and myself, to see what he was going to say. You could have heard a pin drop while the whole courtroom, the whole of Puddleby in fact, waited with craning necks and straining ears to hear the weighty words.
“Your Honor,” said the little man, “the jury returns a verdict of Not Guilty.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked, turning to the Doctor.
But I found Doctor John Dolittle, the famous naturalist, standing on top of a chair, dancing about on one leg like a schoolboy.
“It means he’s free!” he cried, “Luke is free!”
“Then he’ll be able to come on the voyage with us, won’t he?”
But I could not hear his answer; for the whole courtroom seemed to be jumping up on chairs like the Doctor. The crowd had suddenly gone crazy. All the people were laughing and calling and waving to Luke to show him how glad they were that he was free. The noise was deafening.
Then it stopped. All was quiet again; and the people stood up respectfully while the judge left the Court. For the trial of Luke the Hermit, that famous trial which to this day they are still talking of in Puddleby, was over.
In the hush while the judge was leaving, a sudden shriek rang out, and there, in the doorway stood a woman, her arms outstretched to the Hermit.
“Luke!” she cried, “I’ve found you at last!”
“It’s his wife,” the fat woman in front of me whispered. “She ain’t seen ’im in fifteen years, poor dear! What a lovely reunion. I’m glad I came. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything!”
As soon as the judge had gone the noise broke out again; and now the folks gathered round Luke and his wife and shook them by the hand and congratulated them and laughed over them and cried over them.
“Come along, Stubbins,” said the Doctor, taking me by the arm, “let’s get out of this while we can.”
“But aren’t you going to speak to Luke?” I said—“to ask him if he’ll come on the voyage?”
“It wouldn’t be a bit of use,” said the Doctor. “His wife’s come for him. No man stands any chance of going on a voyage when his wife hasn’t seen him in fifteen years. Come along. Let’s get home to tea. We didn’t have any lunch, remember. And we’ve earned something to eat. We’ll have one of those mixed meals, lunch and tea combined—with watercress and ham. Nice change. Come along.”
Just as we were going to step out at a side door I heard the crowd shouting,
“The Doctor!
