Geoffrey Hamstead Part 41

Although merited, this was a sore snub for the able detective, and it seemed quite to take the heart out of him; but he afterward recovered himself as he fell to describing what had occurred in the collision and how he had got on board the North Star--the sole survivor from the Eleusinian. In speaking of the arrest he did not say that he had prevented Jack from saving the life dearest on earth to him. He gave the truth a very unpleasant turn against the prisoner by saying that Jack struggled violently to escape from the arrest and tried to throw himself overboard. This, of course, gave all the impression that he was ready to seek death rather than be captured. It gave a desperate aspect to his conduct, and accorded well with his sullen appearance in the court-room. Dearborn suppressed the fact that Jack had been delirious and raving for twelve hours afterward, as this might explain his present condition and cause delay. He had lost no opportunity of circulating the suggestion that he was shamming insanity.

After he had briefly described his return to Toronto with his prisoner, the crown attorney asked him:

"Did you find any articles upon his person?"

"Yes; I took this knife away from him."

"Ah, indeed!" said the crown attorney, taking the knife and examining it. "Quite a murderous-looking weapon."

"Which will be found strapped to the back of every sailor that breathes," interrupted Rankin indignantly. "I hope my learned friend won't arrest his barber for using razors in his daily work."

"And what else did you find upon him?" asked the attorney, returning to the case for want of good retort.

Detective Dearborn thought a sensation agreeable to himself would certainly be made by his answer:

"Well," he said, with the _sang froid_ with which detectives delight to make their best points, "I found on him two of the stolen one-thousand-dollar bills--"

"Now, now, now!" cried Rankin, jumping to his feet in an instant. "You can not possibly know that of your own knowledge. You are getting too zealous again, Mr. Dearborn."

"Don't alarm yourself, my acute friend," said the crown attorney, conscious that all the evidence he required was coming on afterward. "We will prove the ident.i.ty of the recovered bills to your most complete satisfaction." Then, turning to the witness, he said: "Go on."

Dearborn, who had made the little stir he expected went on to explain what the other moneys were that he had found on Jack, and described how he found the bills pinned securely inside a watch-pocket of a waistcoat that he wore underneath his outer shirt.

Rankin asked Dearborn only one question. There did not seem to be any use in resisting the matter except on the one point which remained to be proved.

"You do not pretend to identify these bills yourself?"

"No, sir, I don't. But we'll fix that all right for you," he said, triumphantly, as he descended from the box.

The clerk in the Montreal Telegraph Company's office who compared the numbers of the bills with the list of numbers sent from New York, then identified the two recovered bills beyond any doubt. He also swore that he personally deposited the package of bills with the receiving teller of the Victoria Bank.

The receiving teller swore to having received such a package and having handed it to Mr. Hampstead to be used in his department.

Geoffrey Hampstead was recalled, and acknowledged receiving such a package from the other clerk. But what surprised everybody was that he took up the recovered bills and swore positively that the stolen bills were of a light-brown color, and not dark-green, like the ones found on the prisoner.

Geoffrey had seen that the whole case depended on the identification of these bills. If he could break the evidence of the other witnesses sufficiently on this point, there might, he thought, be a chance of having Jack liberated.

A peculiar thing happened here, which startled the dense ma.s.s of people looking on.

The prisoner arose to his feet, and, taking hold of the railing to steady himself, said in a rolling, hollow voice, while Geoffrey was swearing that the stolen bills were of a light-brown color:

"Geoffrey, old man, don't tell any lies on my account. The bills were all dark-green." Then he sat down again wearily.

If there was a man in the room who until now had still hoped that Jack was innocent, his last clinging hope was dissipated by this speech.

A deep silence prevailed for an instant, as the conviction of his guilt sank into every heart.

Some said it was just like Geoffrey to go up and try to swear his friend off. They thought it was like him, inasmuch as it was a daring stroke which was aimed at the root of the whole prosecution. Probably he lost few friends among those who thought he had perjured himself for this object. Those who did not think this, supposed he was mistaken in his recollection as to the color of the bills. A small special edition of a vulgar newspaper, issued an hour afterward, said:

"In this case of Regina _vs._ Cresswell, if Hampstead had been able to shake the identification of these bills no doubt Regina would have 'got left.'"

When Jack had returned to consciousness, at Port Dalhousie, it was only partially. He looked at the detective dreamily when informed that he had to go to Toronto. He felt desperately ill and weak, and thought of one thing only--Nina's death. Even that he only realized faintly. Mentally and bodily he was like a water-logged wreck that could be towed about from place to place but was capable in itself of doing little more than barely floating. When Rankin had spoken to him, before the trial, about getting a lawyer, he was merely conscious of a slight annoyance that disturbed the one weak current of his thought. When the magistrate had addressed him in the court-room, the change from the dark cell to the light room and the crowd of faces had nearly banished again the few rays of intelligence which he possessed. He did not know what the magistrate was saying. Vaguely conscious that there was some charge against him, he was paralyzed by a death-like weakness which prevented his caring in the slightest degree what happened. When Rankin spoke incisively to him, the voice was familiar, and he was able to make an answer, and in the course of the trial gleams of intelligence came to him. The vibrations of Geoffrey's well-known voice aroused him with a half-thrill of pleasure, and during the re-examination he had partly comprehended that there was some charge against him about these bills, and he came to the conclusion that as Geoffrey must have known the true color of the bills, he was only telling an untruth for the purpose of getting him off. This was as far as his intelligence climbed, and when he sat down again the exertion proved too much for him, and his mind wandered.

Of course, after this terribly damaging remark, there was nothing left for Rankin to cling to. Clearly, Jack knew all about the bills, and had given up all hope of acquittal. The two other clerks were called to contradict Geoffrey as to the color of the bills, and with that the case for the prosecution closed.

Rankin said he was as yet unprepared with any evidence for the defense.

Evidence of previous good character could certainly be obtained in any quant.i.ty from any person who had ever known the prisoner, and, in any case, he should be allowed time to produce this evidence. He easily showed a number of reasons why a postponement for a week should be granted.

The magistrate shook his head, and then told John Cresswell to stand up.

Jack was partly hoisted up by a policeman. He stood holding on to the bar in front of him with his head down, perhaps the most guilty looking individual that had been in that dock for a month.

"John Cresswell, the evidence against you in this case leaves no shadow of doubt in my mind that you are guilty of the offense charged. Your counsel has requested a delay in order that your defense may be more thoroughly gone into. I have watched your demeanor throughout the trial, and, although a little doubtful at first, I have come to the conclusion that you are shamming insanity. I saw you on several occasions look perfectly intelligent, and your remarks show that you fully understand the bearing of the case. I will therefore refuse to postpone the trial further than three o'clock this afternoon. This will give your counsel an opportunity to produce evidence of previous good character or any other evidence that he may wish to bring forward. Forty-eight thousand dollars of the stolen money are still missing, and, so far, I certainly presume that you know where that large sum of money is secreted. Unless the aspect of the case be changed by further evidence sentence will be pa.s.sed on you this afternoon, and I wish to tell you now that if, in the mean time, you make rest.i.tution of the money, such action on your part may materially affect the sentence I shall pa.s.s upon you."

The magistrate was going on to say: "I will adjourn the court now until three o'clock," when he perceived that Jack, who was still standing, was speaking to him and looking at him vacantly. What Jack said while his head swayed about drunkenly was this:

"If you'll let me off this watch now I'll do double time to-morrow, governor. I never was sea-sick before, but I must turn in for a while, for I can't stand without holding on to something."

n.o.body knew what to make of this except Detective Dearborn, who had possessed all along the clew to his distressing condition. But what did the detective care for his condition? John Cresswell was black with guilt. The fact of his being "cut up" because, a woman got drowned did not change his guilt. He and that deuced fine woman were partners in this business, and forty-eight thousand had gone to the bottom of the lake in her pocket The detective could not forgive himself for not allowing Jack to try and save the girl. The girl herself was no object, but it would have fetched things out beautifully as a culmination of detective work to bring her back also--along with the money. Forty-eight and two would make fifty, and if the bank could not afford to give away one in consideration of getting back the forty-nine--Bah! he knew his mad thirst to hold his prey had made him a fool.

Was it the formation of his jaw? They say a bull-dog is not the best fighter, because he will not let go his first grip in order to take a better one.

The court-room was empty in five minutes after the adjournment, and a couple of the "Vics" followed Jack down-stairs. Rankin went down also and was going to get Jack some stimulant, but he found the bank fellows ahead of him. One of them had got a pint of "fizz," another had procured from the neighboring restaurant some oysters and a small flask of brandy.

These young men were beautiful in the matter of stand-up collars, their linen was chaste, and extensive, and-their clothes ornamental, but they could stick to a friend. The language of these young men, who showed such a laxity in moral tone as to attempt to refresh an undoubted criminal, was ordinarily almost too correct, but now they were profane.

Every one of them had been fond of Jack, and their sympathy was greater than their self-control. For once they forgot to be respectable, and were cursing to keep themselves from showing too much feeling--a phase not uncommon.

Rankin saw Jack take some brandy and that afterward he was able to peck at the oysters. Then he walked off to No. 173 Tremaine Buildings to think out what had best be done and to have a solitary piece of bread and b.u.t.ter, and perhaps a cup of tea, if Mrs. Priest's stove happened to have a fire in it.

CHAPTER XXVII.

So Justice, while she winks at crimes, Stumbles on innocence sometimes.

_Hudibras._

He who is false to present duty breaks a thread in the loom, and will find the flaw when he may have forgotten its cause.--HENRY WARD BEECHER.

About two o'clock on this day of the trial, when Geoffrey and all the rest of the bank-clerks were hurrying through their work in order to get out to attend the police court, Mr. Dearborn came in unexpectedly, and talked to Hampstead for a while. He said that the prisoner Cresswell was very ill, perhaps dying, and had begged him to go and bring Geoffrey to see him--if only for a moment.

"All right," said Hampstead, "I'll speak to the manager about going, and will then drop over with you."

He did so, and they walked to the police station together. They descended into the bas.e.m.e.nt, and Mr. Dearborn unlocked a cell which was very dark inside.