The Diamond Bullet Murder Case Part 9

"You are quite right, doctor. Let us sum this thing up, then. When you finished your very distasteful task of probing for the diamond and, later, of examining the heart, you considered you had performed your duty sufficiently? I mean, you had discovered what was, in your expert opinion, ample cause of death "

Elton Dawbridge was looking at Hazeltine suspiciously, but he did not suspect how cunningly Gillian was laying the plans for a trap to be sprung later.

"That's right," the coroner answered.

"In other words, your autopsy was complete when you had removed the diamond, and, later, examined the heart. As an expert, you saw no need of examining lungs or other vital organs or other parts of the body, naturally. In your opinion, the diamond did it. You had the burned hole in the shirt to prove it. Am I right on these various points?"

The coroner was now suspicious, but he nodded and said, "Yes, that's right."

"You're excused," Gillian said, and sat down, mopping his face. No one in that courtroom would know how relieved he was. He saw, at last, the faint glimmering of possible success in the far distance. He had, at least, a fighting chance.

Next witness for the State: John Beckwith, jewelera"a pale, obviously frightened man of sixty, who peered about the crowded courtroom as if his eyesight were bad.

"How long have you been a jeweler in this city, Mr. Beckwith?" asked Dawbridge suavely.

"Forty one years and three months," was the faltering answer.

"In that time, you have handled countless precious stones, have you not?"

"Yes, sira"countless."

"Isn't it a fact, Mr. Beckwith, that you are so familiar with precious stones that when you have seen one you can never forget it? Let me elaborate. Isn't it a fact that every precious stone of any size has, to you, a definite personalitya"as much of a personality as any human being has?"

"That is soa"yes."

"Will you tell the jury something about this?"

The uneasy witness faced the jury. "A precious stone," he explained, "has a certain color, certain defects or flaws. An expert who has seen a stone once will recognize it again."

"Isn't it true, Mr. Beckwith, that, about a week before the murder of Amos Grundle, a stone weighing about four and one half carats was brought to you; that it was set in an old-fashioned gold brooch, and that its owner wanted you to remove it from its mount for him?"

"Yes, sir," the old man faltered.

"Who was this man?"

"James Truman."

"Do you see him in this courtroom?"

"Yes, sir. He is sitting at that table, there."

"You say that this man, this James Truman, came to you about a week previous to the murder of Amos Grundle and asked you to remove for him a diamond weighing about four and one half carats from a brooch?"

"Yes, sir. That's right." The witness was now staring unhappily at the floor. This was, obviously, no pleasure to him.

"Did James Truman take that unset diamond away?"

"Yes, sir. He called for it about six days later and, took it and the brooch."

"Was that the day before Amos Grundle's murder?"

"I-I think it was."

"Mr. Beckwith, did you ever see that diamond afterward?"

The witness nodded. "Yes, sir," he muttered.

"Kindly describe to the jury the circ.u.mstances."

"The day after Mr. Grundle's body had been found in the quarry, I was called to Dr. Vollmer's place and asked to examine a diamond that had been found in Mr. Grundle's body. To my amazement, it was the diamond that I had removed from the brooch for Mr. Truman."

"Was there any question about this in your mind?"

"No, sir; absolutely none. The diamond was an old-fashioned cuta" what we call a rose cut, as compared to the modern brilliant or emerald cut, which is sometimes called a baguette. It had two carbon spots and a very small grain flaw. But it was of a very clear blue-white colora" a beautiful stone indeed."

"Would you recognize that diamond now?"

"Of course!"

"Is this the diamond?"

The jeweler removed from his vest pocket an optician's loupe and, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g it into his eye, examined the stone. He looked up, removed the magnifying gla.s.s and nodded.

"Yes, sir; this is the diamond."

"That will be all."

Dawbridge glanced at Gillian. It was a scornful glance. With that tiny flashing blue-white pebble, a chain of circ.u.mstantial evidence had been forged which was sufficient in itself to drag James Truman to the electric chair. Of this there was no doubt. What trick of Gillian's could possibly crack that mighty chain? What could Gillian possibly say to the jeweler that would upset his testimony?

The courtroom buzzed when Gillian waved his hand in dismissal. He didn't wish to cross-examine!

Even Dawbridge looked at him with astonishment. It remained now for the county prosecutor to drive in his final rivets. He placed lying witnesses on the stand who declared that they had heard the defendant making threats against Amos Grundle. They had been carefully selected and carefully rehea.r.s.ed-henchmen of Dawbridge's. In his cross-examination, Gillian confused them and ridiculed them. Any lying witness would regret the hour Gillian cast eyes on him.

Dawbridge roared objections. Judge Lindley stretched the law to the cracking point in sustaining them all. But Gillian proved they were liars.

When this was over, Elton Dawbridge played his trump card.

In his dramatic voice, he cried: "Miss Nellie Hearthstone will take the stand!"

CHAPTER 14. TRICKERY!.

THE courtroom hummed. A bailiff banged with his gavel. All eyes were fixed on Nellie. This was the moment for which every one of those morbidly curious men and women in that court had been thirsting. It was the great moment for which the press of the nation had been waiting. In every city of importance in the country, an extra would soon be on the streets: NELLIE HEARTHSTONE TAKES STAND!.

There is no question about it: the great ma.s.s of people enjoy scenes of torture. The public knew that the Hearthstone girl would undergo the most exquisite torture when she took the stand.

The savage political machine of the Dawbridge gang would strip the clothes from her, so to speak. Dawbridge would take pains to reveal her ancestrya"or legal lack of ancestry. And would force from her lips the story that would send to his death the man she loved.

There appeared to be no way to save her from this ordeal. Dawbridge was staring at her greedily, as a wolf might stare at a lamb. Judge Lindley, staring at her, was all but licking his chops.

She sat at the counsel table, with her lovely head up, her eyes serene. She was so pale that reporters commented on it in their dispatches. And they commented on the fact that she looked a thoroughbred. She had that indefinable something which is described, in modern slang, as "cla.s.s."

At a word from Gillian, she arose and walked to the witness chair. Elton Dawbridge was rubbing his hands, in antic.i.p.ation, as he strode toward her.

To the surprise of every one, the county prosecutor, after she had been sworn, made no reference to her early lifea"her legal lack of parents. He would, presumably, come back to that later.

Dawbridge licked his lips and said: "Miss Hearthstone, at the time of Amos Grundle's death, is it not true that you were employed in his household as a servant?

"It is true," she answered.

"Is it true that on the morning of Amos Grundle's death, you left the house shortly before ten o'clock to meet James Truman on the edge of the old quarry which lies between the Grundle and Truman farms?"

"Objection!" Gillian barked.

Dawbridge and the judge looked at him with hard inquiry.

The judge snapped: "On what grounds?"

"According to the laws of this State," Gillian quickly answered, "a married woman cannot be called upon in any court to give testimony which might be in any way prejudicial to the interests of her husband!"

Judge Lindley's jaw dropped. Elton Dawbridge only glared at him.

"This girl is not married to the defendant!" he shouted.

"I beg to differ with my esteemed colleague," Gillian said gently. "Intentions of marriage were filed by the defendant and the witness on the afternoon of Mr. Grundle's regrettable death. The marriage ceremony was performed yesterday by the Rev. Josiah Minkin, of Greenfield. Dr. Minkin is not present, but he will testify if it is necessary."

Elton Dawbridge looked dazedly at the judge, and the judge continued to glare at Gillian.

"Trickery!" he muttered.

"I beg your pardon, your honor?" Gillian said clearly.

"I-er-said nothing. The objection is sustained."

The courtroom buzzed again. The judge threatened to have it cleared if quiet could not be maintained.

Nellie looked serenely at Gillian. Thus had Gillian thrown an armor about Truth.

But Elton Dawbridge was not to be thrust aside so easily. He could mention incidents which had nothing to do with the defendant. And he did. Although the newspapers had already done so, he savagely laid bare the unfortunate facts of Nellie's origin.

Serenely, truthfully, Nellie answered him. She had nothing to withhold. Her att.i.tude was that she was far from being ashamed of her cloudy origin, and far from being ashamed of having grown up in an orphanage.

His wrath got Mr. Dawbridge nowhere. Thwarted, he turned his witness over to the defense.

Gillian said simply: "Miss Hearthstone, I want you to tell the jury something about your life with the Grundles."

She did so. She told the jury of the persecution of Amos Grundle; of his cruelty to his wife, of his brutality to her, of his meanness to animals.

Dawbridge objected; was sustained. But the facts came out, none the less. The courtroom listened and was appalled. There had been rumors of Amos Grundle's dual nature. And there could be no question that Nellie was telling the truth.

Yet, when Gillian dismissed her from the stand, the ugly fact still remained: A chain of circ.u.mstantial evidence which could not be broken bound James Truman to the electric chair.

The State rested. Judge Lindley said, almost in a snarl: "Gentlemen of the jury, we are about to take a recess for lunch. Court will reconvene at two. The Court admonishes you not to speak about this case among yourselves or permit any one to speak to you about it. You will keep your minds open until the case is finally submitted to you. The defendant will retire."

Gillian said: "If your honor please, is it necessary to hold Mrs. Truman any longer?"

Judge Lindley: "Mrs. Truman will be returned to her cell." He beckoned Gillian to the stand and said: "Hazeltine, if this marriage is only a bluff, I will put you away for ten years for contempt."

Gillian smiled. "It is not a bluff, your honor. As you know, perhaps, Mr. Dawbridge has kept the defendant and Miss Hearthstone in adjoining cells, with a Dictaphone concealed somewhere. Yesterday, I brought Dr. Minkin in to perform the ceremony, and he did soa"standing in the corridor so that he could look into both cells.

"The Dictaphone, I believe, was out of order for about an hour! Shall we say that this marriage was made in heaven and in jail at the same time, your honor?"

CHAPTER 15. THE X-RAY.

GILLIAN was now surrounded by reporters, but he would answer no questions. But he invited his old friend Josh Hammersley, of the Greenfield Times, to have lunch with him and Seth Peters in the latter's office. Seth had brought down sandwiches, pie and coffee.

Behind the locked door of the office, Josh said: "Gill, you give me a pain in the neck. I could beat the country on this if you'd only give me a hint."

"You can keep on having the neck pain," Gillian laughed.

"But you have a defense?"

"Certainly I have a defense. But I won't talk about it. I'm superst.i.tious. It isn't that I don't trust you, Josh, but I have the foolish belief that spilling a plan before you execute it spoils it."

"You might let me have something exclusive to send out."

"Wait till after the trial. We ought to wash things up this afternoon. See me after the trial, and I'll give you a nice little exclusive story."

"Who's your first witness?"

Gillian hesitated to answer, then said, reluctantly: "Dr. Hoffman."

"The X-ray specialist?"

"Yes."

"What's the big idea?"