A Master Hand Part 12

My position was not an agreeable one. I felt my friends were trying to determine in their own minds just how best to deal with a man whom they considered suffering from temporary mental aberration, and as I waited for the decision, the silence seemed to grow thick around that melancholy ditty of Van Bult's. At last, unable longer to stand it, I said with sharp interrogation: "Well!"

It had the desired effect, and relieved the situation, at least for me.

Van Bult ceased whistling and Littell put his cigar back in his mouth and both looked at me.

"I really don't see, Dallas," Van Bult said at length, "why you are bothering yourself about this man's fate. It cannot differ so much from many other cases you have come in contact with."

"It does, though," I answered, "because Winters and I are old friends, were college boys together, because by White's will I am left in charge of all the means he has, and above all, because I don't believe him guilty."

"Those are good reasons," he replied, in a more serious tone, "particularly the last one, and if I can help you, I will do so."

Then he turned to Littell and asked him if he also thought Winters was innocent.

"I am inclined to think so," Littell answered thoughtfully.

My pulse jumped with delight, but again subsided at Van Bult's discouraging response.

"Well, I confess," he said, "I cannot quite take that view of it: it seems to me that Dallas has been creating doubts out of his own inner consciousness, but I am willing to a.s.sume he is correct for the sake of his case, as he has given it more consideration than I have: and now what is to be done?"

"There is unfortunately little time for anything at this late hour," I replied, "except to try and find the right lawyer, and put him in possession of what facts and materials we have for the defence. We can hardly expect," I continued, "to secure any important additional testimony within the few days that remain to us before the trial."

Van Bult studied over my words and then, looking from Littell to me, said:

"You say you have tried and failed to secure such a lawyer as you deem necessary: one with reputation, ability, and personal magnetism, I think you said."

"Yes," I acquiesced, "that is what is needed."

"If that is all," he then continued, with an amused twinkle in his eye, "it seems to me we have not far to go for our man!" and he put his hand significantly on Littell's shoulder. "Here he is," he said, "ready made to hand. A lawyer possessing all your requirements, and with faith in the innocence of the client besides!"

I accepted the suggestion with joy, and was only surprised that it had not occurred to me, but Littell was evidently taken aback and none too well pleased.

"No, no! Van, it cannot be," he said, "it is impossible," and he got up and walked to the window and stood looking out with his back to us.

"You know, d.i.c.k," he continued, "that I have not practised in ten years, and I am getting old and rusty, and unfit for such a great responsibility: you are the proper man, not I, and you had better resign from the District Attorney's office and take the case yourself."

"I cannot," I answered. "Such a proceeding would be unprecedented, and besides I am too deeply interested in the case to handle it as dispa.s.sionately as is necessary."

Van Bult, who had been listening to our colloquy with evident amus.e.m.e.nt, here interrupted:

"If I were a lawyer, I would take it myself," he said; "but as I am not, it remains for one of you to do so, and as you cannot agree about it, I am going to cast the deciding vote. Will you both consent to abide by my decision?"

There was no other alternative that I could perceive, and much as I feared his choice might fall upon me, I said I would do so.

"And you, Littell," he asked. The latter hesitated and resumed his seat before he answered, but finally a.s.sented. Then said Van Bult: "I choose Littell."

I gave a sigh of relief. Winters's case was at last entrusted to good hands and the wisdom of my judgment in confiding in my friends was confirmed, but when my first selfish feeling of satisfaction had pa.s.sed, I realized we were asking a great deal of Littell. He was no longer a young man and, as I knew, all his tastes and feelings must revolt against the nature of the task we had put upon him, and I looked over with some sense of regret for my action, but he sat there serenely smoking his cigar, and sipping his brandy as though nothing unusual had occurred. With his never-failing philosophy he had already resigned himself to the inevitable and whatever misgivings he may have had, they were evidently not going to affect his course from then on.

I felt like a man from whom a great load had been lifted. Not only had I found some one to share the burden I had been staggering under for two weeks and which was daily growing heavier, but it was that one in whom before all others I placed the greatest confidence.

It was Littell who recalled me from my abstraction to the consideration of the serious business we had in hand. Looking at his watch, he said:

"It is four o'clock and I am ready to begin my work. You, Van!" he continued, "cannot be of any a.s.sistance just now, but d.i.c.k can take me to my client, for I want to talk with him and hear his story."

"Do you wish to go now?" I asked.

"There is no time to be lost and as you know I have no other serious duties to occupy me," he answered.

Van Bult gazed at him with evident appreciation of the sacrifice he was making.

"It is good of you, Littell," he said, "and I fancy the world will think none the less of you for the sacrifice you are making for a poor fellow who is nothing to you."

Littell shook his head impatiently; he was never a man who liked compliments.

"I have undertaken it, and that is all there is to it," he said.

"Well," Van Bult replied, "we won't say anything more about it, but before I leave you, let me offer a suggestion that does not seem to have occurred to Dallas with all his theorizing."

"What is that?" I asked.

"Only that it seems to me if you be right in your opinion that Winters is not guilty, and the criminal some person who was involved in trouble with White or bore ill-will to him, that in such case the most likely person from whom to seek information should be Belle Stanton."

He paused, but seeing that we were expectantly waiting for him to go on, continued:

"She must know what person, if any, was likely to have left the ulster at her house, that is if she did not do so herself. She probably had a key to White's room. If he had a secret she more likely than any one else shared it with him; and if his affections for her were waning or straying, she could well have felt both the spirit of hate and revenge.

'h.e.l.l knows no fury like a woman scorned,'" he finished, impressively.

"All you say is true," I answered, "and most of the arguments you have advanced occurred to me, and for that reason, as I have told you, I had Miles interrogate her closely, and you know the result; he believes she knows nothing of the murder."

"I believe she does, nevertheless," he replied.

"You are wrong, Van," Littell put in, "for, even admitting the force of your arguments, the woman must have been mad to have taken the ulster home with her after the deed; she would sooner have dropped it on the street than have left such tell-tale evidence on her own premises."

Van Bult shrugged his shoulders as he replied:

"You men overreach yourselves with your refinements of reasoning, and attribute to criminals red-handed from crime the same cleverness that you display yourselves when calmly a.n.a.lyzing their acts. A woman who has just committed a murder is apt to lose her mental balance and to do many irresponsible things. I do not mean to say, however," he continued, "that she is guilty, for it still looks to me as though Winters were, but if you and Dallas are right in your belief in his innocence, then you will find that it is through that woman you must trace the criminal.

If White did not leave the ulster at her house, she did or knows who did!" and giving us no time to argue further with him, he left us.

Littell and myself, without continuing the discussion, then took our way to the Tombs to see Winters. It was not a pleasant visit to make and I would willingly have escaped it, but I had to comply with Littell's wish.

When we reached the building and had been admitted, I introduced my companion to the warden, explaining that he was to defend Winters. The warden looked him over with interest, saying as he shook hands:

"Not an easy job of yours, I fear, sir"; and then addressing me: "You will not find the prisoner looking any better since your last visit."

"Is he any worse than he was?" I inquired; "for I had expected to find him improved by his rest and confinement."

"Yes," he replied; "he is in a bad way, I fear."

When Winters made his appearance, I appreciated the meaning of the warden's statements. He had grown pale and thinner since his confinement and seemed weaker. Of course the immediate effects of dissipation had disappeared, but behind them they had left the evidence of a man really ill. He recognized me with evident pleasure, but showed little interest in Littell even after I had explained the occasion of his visit.

"It is no use," he said, "I can see by the papers that everybody thinks I am guilty."