“No?”
“I think she will be called as a witness tomorrow.”
“Have you noticed,” began Hickory again, after another short interval of quiet contemplation, “that it is only when Miss Dare is present that Mansell wears the look of scorn I have just mentioned.”
“Hickory,” said Mr. Byrd, wheeling directly about in his chair and for the first time surveying his colleague squarely, “I have noticed this. That ever since the day she made her first appearance in the courtroom, she has sat with her eyes fixed earnestly upon the prisoner, and that he has never answered her look by so much as a glance in her direction. This has but one explanation as I take it. He never forgets that it is through her he has been brought to trial for his life.”
Mr. Byrd uttered this very distinctly, and with a decided emphasis. But the impervious Hickory only settled himself farther back in his chair, and stretching his feet out toward the fire, remarked dryly:
“Perhaps I am not much of a judge of human nature, but I should have said now that this Mansell was not a man to treat her contemptuously for that. Rage he might show or hatred, but this quiet ignoring of her presence seems a little too dignified for a criminal facing a person he has every reason to believe is convinced of his guilt.”
“Ordinary rules don’t apply to this man. Neither you nor I can sound his nature. If he displays contempt, it is because he is of the sort to feel it for the woman who has betrayed him.”
“You make him out mean-spirited, then, as well as wicked?”
“I make him out human. More than that,” Mr. Byrd resumed, after a moment’s thought, “I make him out consistent. A man who lets his passions sway him to the extent of committing a murder for the purpose of satisfying his love or his ambition, is not of the unselfish cast that would appreciate such a sacrifice as Miss Dare has made. This under the supposition that our reasons for believing him guilty are well founded. If our suppositions are false, and the crime was not committed by him, his contempt needs no explanation.”
“Just so!”
The peculiar tone in which this was uttered caused Mr. Byrd to flash another quick look at his colleague. Hickory did not seem to observe it.
“What makes you think Miss Dare will be called to the witness stand tomorrow?” he asked.
“Well I will tell you,” returned Byrd, with the sudden vivacity of one glad to turn the current of conversation into a fresh channel. “If you have followed the method of the prosecution as I have done, you will have noticed that it has advanced to its point by definite stages. First, witnesses were produced to prove the existence of motive on the part of the accused. Mr. Goodman was called to the witness stand, and, after him, other business men of Buffalo, all of whom united in unqualified assertions of the prisoner’s frequently-expressed desire for a sum of money sufficient to put his invention into practical use. Next, the amount considered necessary for this purpose was ascertained and found to be just covered by the legacy bequeathed him by his aunt; after which, ample evidence was produced to show that he knew the extent of her small fortune, and the fact that she had by her will made him her heir. Motive for the crime being thus established, they now proceeded to prove that he was not without actual opportunity for perpetrating it. He was shown to have been in Sibley at the time of the murder. The stationmaster at Monteith was confronted with the prisoner, also old Sally Perkins. Then you and I came before the court with our testimony, and whatever doubt may have remained as to his having been in a position to effect his aunt’s death, and afterward escape unnoticed by means of the path leading over the hills to Monteith Quarry station, was swept away. What remains? To connect him with the murder itself, by some, strong link of circumstantial evidence, such as the ring provides. And who is it that can give testimony regarding the ring?—Miss Dare.”
“Hem! Well, she will do it,” was the dry remark of Hickory.
“She will be obliged to do it,” was the emphatic response of Byrd.
And again their glances crossed in a furtive way both seemed ready to ignore.
“What do you think of Orcutt?” Hickory next inquired.
“He is very quiet.”
“Too quiet, eh?”
“Perhaps. Folks that know him well declare they never before saw him conduct a case in so temperate a manner. He has scarcely made an effort at cross-examination, and, in fact, has thus far won nothing for the defence except that astonishing tribute to the prisoner’s character given by Mr. Goodman.”
“Mr. Goodman is Mansell’s friend.”
“I know it; but his short, decisive statements told upon the jury. Such a man as he made Mansell out to be is just the sort to create an impression on a body of men like them.”
“Orcutt understands a jury.”
“Orcutt understands his case. He knows he can make nothing by attempting to shake the evidence which has been presented by the prosecution; the facts are too clear, and the witnesses which have been called to testify are of too reliable a character. Whatever defence he contemplates, it will not rest upon a denial of any of the facts brought to light through our efforts, or the evidence of such persons as Messrs. Goodman and Harrison.”
“No.”
“The question is, then, in what will it lie? Some strong point, I warrant you, or he would not hold himself and his plans so completely in reserve. But what strong point? I acknowledge the uncertainty troubles me.”
“I don’t wonder,” rejoined Hickory. “So it does me.”
And a constraint again fell between them that lasted till Hickory put his pipe in his pocket and signified his intention of returning to his own apartments.
XXVIII
The Chief Witness for the
