A Master Hand Part 6

"Did you see him lose that fifty-dollar bill," pointing to the one Smith had identified.

"I saw him lose a fifty-dollar bill--I do not know that it was that one."

This was plainly a difficult witness. The Inspector leaned toward him, looking him straight in the eyes, and put his next question slowly and with emphasis on each word.

"Who was that man?"

Just as slowly and firmly came the answer, each word falling distinctly in the stillness.

"I do not know."

It was almost a sigh of relief that escaped from the audience, but Dalton continued:

"Then how did you meet him and when?"

"That night in a saloon on the corner of Sixth Avenue and Twenty-Fourth Street; we got to drinking together there."

"And where did he get this money?"

The witness seemed inclined to answer more freely now, and replied that it was suggested that they go and play the bank, but neither of them had any money, and then his companion said he knew where he thought he could get some and went off saying he would be back before long.

"What time was that?" the Inspector interrupted.

The witness thought "it was some time after one o'clock," and continuing said, "the man was gone about half an hour and then returned with the fifty dollars and we went to Smith's place and lost it."

"And what did you do next?" he was asked.

"We had no more money and so we left. We parted outside and I did not see him again."

"And so," said the Inspector, "you don't know him? Do you think you would know him if you saw him again?"

"I do not know."

"That is all," said Dalton; "go back to your place. We may want you."

The tone implied a threat and the witness answered it with a defiant look. He had evidently been lying, but not to shield himself, I thought.

I wondered who the next witness would be; there did not seem occasion for many more for already the police had pretty nearly put the noose around the neck of their man.

Turning, after a few minutes delay, to Dalton to see what might be the cause of it, I saw he was in earnest conversation with a sergeant. He was evidently receiving some important report, for he listened attentively and gave an order in response which despatched the officer rapidly from the room. Then giving his attention again to the proceedings, he called another witness.

It was the paying teller of the American National Bank. His evidence required but a few minutes. He stated he had paid Mr. Van Bult five hundred in "fifties" on the morning before White's death, and that they were new bills just received by the Bank from the Sub-Treasury. On being shown the bill produced by Van Bult and that recovered from the gambling house, he identified them as two of the bills thus received by the Bank, though he said he could not state positively they were the same drawn by Van Bult as a few others had also been paid out. However, it was hardly necessary that he should do so as every one was satisfied the bill obtained from the gambling house was one of those left by Van Bult on White's table.

It only remained now for the man who had lost it to explain how he came by it. Would the explanation be satisfactory? That was the one material point.

When the paying teller had concluded it was late in the afternoon. It was dark out-of-doors and the gas had been lighted within, but the crowd had not diminished; on the contrary, it had been steadily augmented wherever a new spectator had found a chance to wedge his way into the throng. So intense was the interest that neither the Coroner nor a juror had suggested any recess. They sat scarcely moving in their seats, intent only on the words of each succeeding witness. All felt something final must come soon. The evidence was logical and dovetailed perfectly; it all pointed to one man. Who was he? The police must know, they could not have failed in this one vital particular after succeeding so fully in all others. I could read these thoughts in the faces of those about me, in their expectant att.i.tudes; and I felt they were not to be disappointed. The police had done their work thoroughly and the Inspector had submitted its results with telling effect. If it were his purpose to work his evidence up to a climax he had succeeded and the moment had now come for the crowning of his success,--the identification of the man. After that there would be little left apparently for the lawyers of the State to do; but I felt there might be something for some one to undo.

There was a slight disturbance among the spectators at one side of the room near the door; "another spectator struggling for a nearer view," I thought to myself; and then amid an expectant hush the night-officer was recalled to the stand.

"Officer," said Dalton, "you said you thought you would recognize the man you saw that night if you should see him again; look about you now!

Do you see him?"

The officer let his gaze pa.s.s over the jury and witnesses and slowly on to where the spectators were gathered at the farther end of the room,--men retreating before the searching glance as from the eye of fate,--and then he leaned forward and fixed his look on a man standing where the retreating crowd had left him almost alone:

"That is the man," he said.

I looked; it was Winters! He wore the light coat and was fingering nervously the brown derby hat which he held. His head was bent, but one could see that his face was very pale and his eyes dull and heavy from drinking. It was a pitiful sight, this helpless accused man, seemingly unconscious of his position, and I turned away; but the crowd stared as though fascinated even while they shrank from him.

The Inspector next recalled the witness Smith.

"Can you identify among the persons present the man who lost the fifty-dollar bill at your gambling table?" he asked.

Without hesitation he also pointed to Winters and said that he was the man.

There was a moment's delay, and I knew Dalton was hesitating to put his question of identification to the witness Roberts, for fear of damaging his case by a denial, but professional duty prevailed, and he called him up and asked him pointedly if that was not the man who was with him Tuesday morning and lost the fifty-dollar bill.

The witness at first seemed disposed to evade the question, but his courage failed him and in a low voice he admitted that it was. Then Dalton turned slowly and faced Winters and said:

"Henry Winters! You are under suspicion of having killed Arthur White.

Have you anything to say?"

I looked at Winters again. He had not changed his position, but his glance was turned to Dalton with a look of dumb appeal and then it went wandering round the room as if he were struggling to understand it all, but he made no answer, and after a moment his eyes fell again and he relapsed into his former insensibility. At a signal, an officer who had been standing back of him advanced, and handcuffing him, led him without resistance from the room.

The crowd had been silent during this scene, but when he was gone there was that stir among them that is heard when people rouse themselves after an ordeal.

By an effort I recovered my self-possession in time to give appropriate attention to the closing proceedings. The Inspector was announcing in his former business-like tone, that the evidence was all in and the jury at liberty to find their verdict.

There was no doubt as to what it would be. They withdrew and were gone a few minutes for form's sake only and on returning the foreman announced the verdict:

"The jury find that Arthur White came to his death on the morning of January the --, 1883, in the city of New York, through a wound deliberately inflicted by Henry Winters."

That was all.

The jury was dismissed, the crowd dispersed, and the first stage of the case had closed.

CHAPTER VII

AN EVENING AT THE CLUB

Upon the conclusion of the hearing I left at once and, avoiding any chance of interruption, went directly to my rooms. Once there I pulled my chair up to the fire, lighted my pipe, and sat down to think it all over.

If I were going to work intelligently upon this case I must understand it, and if I meant to proceed upon the theory that the accused was innocent and try to establish that fact, I must have good reason for such course. Hasty conclusions would not do. They must be deliberate and be logically deduced from the evidence.

I realized that I was now in possession of sufficient facts to draw some conclusions if only, tentative ones, and I felt, indeed, that there was great doubt if any further light would be thrown upon the case before the trial, so that I might as well study the situation as it was.