A Master Hand Part 18

After the coffee and the cigars had been brought and Brown had retired, our talk took a more serious turn and eventually pa.s.sed to the subject of the trial, which by tacit understanding had been avoided before. I would very willingly have let things continue as they had been and have ignored the subject altogether, but it was not to be. It was evidently on all minds and would not be avoided. Some one referred to it and immediately all else lost interest. The witnesses and their evidence; the bearing of the prisoner; the division of the jury, and the arguments of counsel, were each discussed in turn; till finally Davis, in his irreverent way, inquired of Littell if he flattered himself the jury had believed the fairy tale he had told them.

"So you think it was a fairy tale I told the jury, do you, Ned?" Littell said. "Well, it may have been, but I have known truth as strange."

"Do you mean to say," Van Bult inquired, "that you believe the statement you made to the jury to be the true explanation of the murder?"

"I do," Littell answered.

"But if that were so, it might put the crime upon some man we know," Van Bult continued, "possibly even a friend and you cannot think that?"

"Why not?" Littell asked; "it would not be the first time a man of intelligence and social prominence had done such a thing. You can never tell what a man is capable of till he has been tried. Very few men, I admit you," he went on, "commit great crimes, but that is not always because they are too good for it; it is sometimes only because the fatal occasion does not arise for them and sometimes because the men themselves are not equal to the occasion. The man who has once committed a murder," he continued, reflectively, while we all listened intently, "is no worse in nature, necessarily, after than before the deed, and no more dangerous to society, that is if he is a man of intelligence; because he has done it once is no reason that he will do it again, any more than the fact that he has never done it is an a.s.surance that he never will. There are worse offences than murder, too; a man may kill another man, and yet not cheat at cards or talk about a woman." He paused, but no one said anything and he went on in the same dispa.s.sionate tone: "There are men of wealth and position in this city, men respected and sought after, not a few, who would kill if the occasion were great enough; it is only a matter of measure with them; and it is among such men you must look for Arthur White's murderer."

When he concluded there was an expression of horror upon Davis's face and I was repelled even while fascinated by this cold-blooded a.n.a.lysis of my fellow-men's nature and motives, but I recognized there was a degree of truth in it, nevertheless.

It was Van Bult who continued the conversation.

"I do not agree with you," he said, "and I do not believe you mean what you say; I know the pessimistic view you affect to take of human nature, and I know, too, the real charity you feel for it in your heart." Van Bult spoke warmly, but Littell received the tribute with a shrug as he held his gla.s.s up to the light and judged critically its color.

"Have your way," he said, "but if the time ever comes when my words are verified, remember I said them."

"Perhaps we may not have to wait very long for the truth about this case," I now said, "for Miles thinks he has discovered a new clue and is hard at work upon it and I happened upon something this afternoon that may help him."

"What was that?" Davis inquired, but I did not think it worth while to go into the details of my meeting with Belle Stanton and did not answer.

"The case is too much for such as Miles to solve, I think," Littell said, and then looking at me added, "You might do better, d.i.c.k, but I am not sure the job would repay you."

"I would willingly undertake it, nevertheless," I answered, "if I only knew where to begin."

"If there is any truth in Littell's words, it might lead you to very unpleasant consequences," Van Bult here suggested.

I was reflecting over his words, when Littell, reading my thoughts, added:

"If you do continue your investigation of this case, and it does lead to some man you know, what will you do?"

"I can do but one thing," I answered, "give that man to justice."

"And if he should be friend, what then?"

Such a contingency had never occurred to me before, but in the trend of the conversation it seemed a possibility, and I felt its awful responsibility.

"Give it up, d.i.c.k," advised Davis; "Littell is only dissecting you morally, and the idea is too absurd to talk about, much less to accept seriously"; but I saw the others were waiting for my decision, and I would not evade it.

"I would still do the same," I answered.

"Do you think it would be really worth while or your duty, to do such a thing?" Littell asked. "Winters will probably be acquitted; White is past helping, and what could be gained by offering up a friend as a sacrifice?"

"Nothing," I answered, "but the demands of the law."

He leaned over and put his hand on my shoulder.

"d.i.c.k," he said, "you are a strange fellow with more than your share of conscientiousness, but even with you there must be a point where duty ceases and human nature a.s.serts itself. Would you, if it were one of us three, your friends, upon whom you fixed this crime, give him over to the gallows?"

"I refuse to answer," I said.

"But you would do it!" Van Bult a.s.serted, and I did not dispute him.

"I am going home," Davis broke in. "I have had enough of this; you fellows can go on hanging one another all night, if you choose, but I won't have a hand in it," and he pushed his chair back from the table.

The laugh that followed relieved the tension, and we prepared to break up.

"Let us have a last drink together before we go out," Littell said, and following his example, we all rose and filled our gla.s.ses.

"The toast?" Van Bult asked.

"Failure to Dallas," said Littell, and I could not refuse to join them.

To change the tenor of our thoughts, I asked Littell if he had definitely decided about his trip.

"Yes," he replied, "I shall go to Florida, to-morrow, but will be back in time to receive any revelations you may have to make."

"Better take him with you," said Davis. "He is hardly good company, but it will keep him out of harm."

"Why not go?" Van Bult urged. "It will do you good--you need rest even more than Littell."

"No," I said, "I will stay here."

By this time we had reached the front door and no one seemed disposed to linger. Though our little dinner had begun auspiciously and full of promise of a pleasant evening, its ending had been rather melancholy and I knew they all felt so and, try as they would, could not throw the weight off. Somehow or other, this death of White seemed fated to bring us all constant trouble.

Davis and Van Bult nodded me a farewell as they went away, but Littell held out his hand and, as I took it, said earnestly, almost affectionately:

"Your fidelity to your purpose may prove to your sorrow, d.i.c.k, but I respect you for it, and I wish some of us could be more like you."

"It is you that I would be like," I answered him.

"Good-night," he said, and joined the others as they crossed the square.

As I stood for a moment, looking after their retreating forms, I saw again the detective I had seen shadowing Winters the day I had met him by White's house.

CHAPTER XIII

THE TRUTH AT LAST

It was nearly two weeks after my little dinner that I sat late one afternoon alone in my office. The rain without pattered dismally against the single window that looked into a deserted court and within the room was dimly lighted by the fading daylight and the fire that flickered on the hearth. The gloom of the close of a rainy winter's day was over everything and my thoughts and heart seemed full of the vague shadows that haunted the room. I was awaiting the coming of Miles, who that morning had sent me word that he had something to report. During the past fortnight he had been persistently engaged in working on his new theory of the case, but with what results I did not know, for he had told me nothing.

I also had at first made an effort to accomplish something along the same lines, for I had found inaction almost unbearable, but it proved to no purpose. The time had pa.s.sed for a.n.a.lyses of conditions; what was now needed was expert detective work, and this I could not do, and so I had to give it up and in despair resign myself to idly waiting on Miles.