The Incendiary Part 16

"As the first step toward establishing the existence of a will," said the judge, "upon which, I believe, both parties, all parties"--there were several other lawyers present--"are agreed----"

Hodgkins and s.h.a.garach bowed.

"The letter had best be read in evidence."

There was a great diving into green bags for awhile among the Hodgkins firm, at the end of which the senior member read the following letter: "Friend Hodgkins: You are the only one of your cursed tribe to whom I ever got nearer than swearing distance, and our intimacy began before you were admitted to the vulpine crew. Here I am, a youngster of 78, antic.i.p.ating death by thirty years at least and indulging in the folly of will-making. Can you conceive anything more absurd? I might as well think of getting insured so early in life. But I was always excessively cautious, you know--hence my odium advocatorum, I suppose. Can you superintend the job? Most of my h.o.a.rd goes elsewhere, but there will be some for the executor to distribute, and you will find legal pickings in it that will pay you. Write at once.

"BENJAMIN ARNOLD."

This eccentric epistle raised a smile among the lawyers, but s.h.a.garach was busily occupied drafting a verbatim copy while Hodgkins continued his plea.

"I was remarking," he repeated, one of his favorite introductory formulae, "that upon receiving this request I made haste to indite a favorable response, as I felt bound in duty and honor----"

"And the prospect of pickings," added s.h.a.garach, sotto voce, still copying the letter. The senior member glared.

"It is needless to relate the unfortunate circ.u.mstance, in which Brother s.h.a.garach's client is so deeply implicated, which has relieved me of this welcome if laborious trust. The will under which I was to serve in the capacity of executor has been destroyed--destroyed, presumably, by the party whose hopes of a fortune is cut off, and we stand here to-day facing the same status which existed up to six weeks ago. I say the same--I am in error. There is an important, a melancholy difference. Six weeks ago my friend's nephew was not an accused and all but a convicted murderer."

Hodgkins paused, as if expecting a rejoinder from s.h.a.garach, but the latter appeared profoundly absorbed in a telegram which Jacob had just brought him.

"The property now stands in no man's name. There is no person to whom its dividends, its rents, its interest, constantly becoming due, can safely be paid. Under the laws of descent its t.i.tle vests equally in the heirs-at-law, the nephews of the deceased. But there is need of an administration, in order that the two shares may be apportioned in a satisfactory manner. I need not again allude to the circ.u.mstance which renders a joint administration improper and impossible, the circ.u.mstance which explains the absence of Brother s.h.a.garach's client----"

"I do not see Brother Hodgkins' client in the courtroom," s.h.a.garach retorted to this sarcasm. As he spoke his eye fell on Mrs. Arnold's haughty face.

"It is certain, however, that he is not occupying a felon's cell," answered Hodgkins. "Briefly, your honor, there is only one course open. An administrator is urgently needed for this immense estate. In the absence of a will, the heirs-at-law, being of age, would naturally be selected, but under the circ.u.mstances I respectfully suggest that the younger of the two nephews is debarred and that your honor's choice should fall upon the elder, a college graduate, a young man who moves in the highest social circles, and who has not, I believe, the honor of an acquaintance with the inmates and turnkeys of the state prison."

Hodgkins had hardly sat down after this acrid peroration when s.h.a.garach was on his feet.

"I have only a few words to say at present. The case is by no means so simple as my learned brother imagines. My learned brother a.s.sumes that the physical destruction of the will has involved the extinction of its contents. So mature an advocate does not need to be reminded that parol proof of the contents of a will, of its accuracy in technical form, and of its existence unrevoked at the time of the testator's death, are equivalent in law to the presentation of the doc.u.ment itself.

"We have in the court-room today a number of witnesses who will testify to the contents of the will. We have the witnesses who signed it to prove its compliance with statutory requirements as to form; and I do not understand that Brother Hodgkins denies that the paper was in existence until destroyed at the Arnold fire."

"You object, then, to the issuance of administration papers to Mr. Harry Arnold?" asked the judge.

"Emphatically. We desire to uphold the will. Brother Hodgkins has introduced evidence as to the making of a will in the letter which he read. I should like to put in evidence now the testimony of the three witnesses to the signature."

When the three witnesses had sworn to Prof. Arnold's acknowledgment in their presence of the will, to their own attestation of his signature, and to the date, June 7, of these occurrences, another lawyer, who appeared to act in concert with s.h.a.garach, briefly announced his guardianship of the interests of the heirs of Ellen Greeley, a legatee in the sum of $1,000. After recounting the long and meritorious services of the dead domestic, he called upon her sister to testify to several conversations in which she had referred to the professor's generous remembrance of her in his will.

"It is proper to state at this point," said s.h.a.garach, "that the other servant, Bertha Lund, is not represented here by counsel, but there is evidence to show that she was remembered in the same manner as her colleague."

Mrs. Christenson was thereupon called and deposed, exactly as Ellen Greeley's sister had done, to the several conversations in which Bertha had referred to her employer's liberality.

"Until yesterday evening," said s.h.a.garach, "Bertha Lund was employed in the country house of Mrs. Arnold at Hillsborough. A telegram, however, sent to the station-master at that place, brings the answer that Miss Lund took the outward-bound train at 5:21 this morning, being alone and accoutred with a large baggage trunk. I doubt, therefore, if this important witness as to the contents of the will can readily be found."

While he made this statement s.h.a.garach searched Mrs. Arnold's face. Her gaze shifted and she perceptibly whitened. Then the rise of still another lawyer, also seeming to act in concert with s.h.a.garach, drew attention to the court. The new attorney represented, as he immediately informed the judge, certain charitable inst.i.tutions which had been remembered under the clauses of the will--namely, the Duxborough inst.i.tution for the blind, of which the professor, who had himself been operated on for cataract, had been throughout his life a conspicuous supporter; the Woodlawn home for consumptives, the dipsomaniac hospital, the Magdalen reformatory, the asylum for idiots and the Christian orphanage. Letters were read from Prof. Arnold to the superintendents of each of these inst.i.tutions, requesting them to accept legacies of $20,000 each under the will which he had just drawn. The letters were couched in a stereotyped form and all dated alike.

But the most significant testimony of the day was contained in the last doc.u.ment which this attorney presented--a letter.

"Dr. Silsby himself," he explained, "is detained from attendance at this hearing by important scientific labors in the west."

The mention of Dr. Jonas Silsby's name caused the eyebrows of the Hodgkins firm to elevate themselves unanimously in a manner which amusingly accented the facial resemblance of the members. Jonas Silsby had been a pupil of Prof. Arnold and was at present the most distinguished arboreal botanist in the country. Along with some of his master's eccentricities, such as vegetarianism, he had imbibed much of his independence and n.o.ble honor. He was, moreover, Robert Floyd's most intimate friend, bridging, as it were, by the full vigor of his fifty-odd years, the great gap of half a century which separated the boyish nephew from his octogenarian uncle.

Mrs. Arnold's quick smoothing with her finger of an imaginary loose lock--the characteristic feminine gesture of embarra.s.sment--did not escape s.h.a.garach's l.u.s.trous glance. The letter was worded as quaintly as the other: "My Dear Jonas: Rob has gone back on me, G.o.d bless him, the rogue, and you've got to take my dollars. I know you don't want them, but I'm going to commit inverse larceny just the same. I'll grab you by the throat and stuff your pockets with gold, though you bellow like an ox. You know what it's all about. We've talked it over often enough. And I want it called the 'Arnold academia,' too. If agriculture stops going to the dogs in this country through the preaching of the dons my h.o.a.rd keeps in shoe leather, then I want the credit of it for my ghost downstairs. It'll need some comfort, Jonas. But don't suppose I dream of quitting you yet, my boy, and don't expect all of the pudding I've baked. There will be some plums for the asylums, and some for the servants, and Rob, the young rogue, has got to be provided for, w.i.l.l.y-nilly. This is only a hint, but verb.u.m sap. We'll talk it over when you come east again, with your pouches full of seeds. Here's good luck to you, Jonas. It is G.o.d's world, anyway, and not the devil's. Your old friend, "BENJAMIN ARNOLD."

"Dr. Silsby explains," added the lawyer, "that the allusion in the text to an academia refers to a cherished project for elevating the position of the American farmer. The idea was to establish a great agricultural university. It had been a frequent subject of discussion between them, and nothing could be more natural than that Dr. Silsby should be selected as president of the inst.i.tution."

"And trustee of its funds," added s.h.a.garach, looking at the senior member of the bewildered firm of Hodgkins, Hodgkins & Hodgkins. Then the court adjourned for lunch.

CHAPTER XX.

TWO STEPS FORWARD AND ONE TO THE REAR.

At the afternoon session Mrs. Arnold was found at her place, still unaccompanied by her son. Five lawyers had already outlined their standpoints to the judge, but still there were new complications in store. Lawyer Howell was s.h.a.garach's earliest opponent, the Goliath of his first great duel. He contented himself with stating his intention to attach Floyd's share of the property in behalf of the insurance companies and proprietors who had suffered loss through the crime with which he was charged. He was of opinion that the evidence offered to uphold the will lacked particularity and was insufficient---- "Brother Howell is not here as a.s.sociate justice." s.h.a.garach was on his feet in a flash. "His opinions are impertinences, too manifestly dictated by his interests. Naturally the insurance companies and burned-out proprietors desire to break this will, in order that Robert Floyd may take the $5,000,000 which he does not want and they may join the hue and cry of the other conspirators against an innocent man."

Howell was protesting against such a suggestion, when he was interrupted by a roar from one of the learned brethren who had been impatiently waiting his turn.

"I speak for the murdered girls," he cried, "whose pure young blood stains the hands of that guilty monster, and in the name of their bleeding corpses and young lives, ruthlessly done to death, I utter my protest against the imputation of innocence to their slayer."

The auditors, who had begun to drowse over the technical details of the case, were stirred to attention at once by this declamatory opening. Even Saul Aronson, sleepy from his restless night, checked a yawn midway with his fingers and turned around. The new speaker was a middle-sized, burly man, whose most conspicuous feature was a projection of the flesh beneath the outer corners of his eyebrows, so as to bury the eyes and give his whole face an expression almost Mongolian in its cunning. His clothes were seedy, and his remarks punctuated by amber-colored shots at the cuspidor. Altogether it was a decidedly rakish craft and the look on Judge Dunder's face was by no means propitious.

"It is an axiom of law," said the orator, waving his hand and executing a demi-volt toward the spectators, "that no man can take advantage of his own tort. I hereby accuse Robert Floyd of the murder of my clients----"

"Who are your clients?" interrupted the judge.

"Mary and Florence Lacy, two virtuous maidens, the sunshine of a happy home, the pride of a loving and admiring circle of friends"--just here came one of the orator's punctuation points, which produced a sadly ant.i.thetical effect--"the comforts of a bereaved mother's heart----"

An old lady in the audience burst into tears. Presumably it was Mrs. Lacy. This tribute to his eloquence warmed the orator to a mighty outburst.

"Woe, I say, to that ruthless hand! Perdition gripe that marble heart----"

"Will you kindly make your statements relevant?" The judge's manner was arctic. "We are considering the disposition of Benjamin Arnold's estate."

"I beg to interpose." Hodgkins had seen a ray of hope in the utterances of the last two speakers. Slack, the grandiloquent, was a bibulous shyster, who made a precarious livelihood by imposing on just such victims as Mrs. Lacy, but at this juncture he might prove a useful ally. "Brother Slack is not unnaturally, I may say most creditably, carried away by his feelings on behalf of his clients; and I, for one, heartily join him in opposing the efforts which have been made here today to put the means of redress for those--er--unhappy victims beyond their reach--or, rather, to reduce them to a paltry $20,000."

"Twenty thousand dollars!" shrieked Slack. "Who dares insult the sanct.i.ty of human life by estimating its value at such a bagatelle. I say not $20,000,000 would recompense that weeping mother for the loss of the children of her bosom."

With pointed finger he held up the grief of the now blushing and embarra.s.sed woman to the curious gaze of the crowd. Then, wearied of his vulgarity, and confident of a case already complete, s.h.a.garach rose and immediately drew all eyes and ears.

"Brother Slack has unwittingly uttered the strongest argument of the day in favor of the request which I make--a request, be it understood, for postponement only, until sufficient time elapses to permit the contents of this will to be demonstrated. Brother Slack a.s.sumes the guilt of my client in a criminal cause now pending. Brother Howell a.s.sumes it; Brother Hodgkins, in asking you to exclude him from the administratorship, also a.s.sumes it. This is a new doctrine of law, to adjudge a man guilty without according him an opportunity for defense. I ask your honor to consider the stigma which the choice of Harry Arnold as sole administrator would cast upon Robert Floyd, and the prejudice it would work him in the cause I have mentioned.

"But, aside from this, I ask you to consider the chain of evidence presented as to the will itself. Let us keep in mind that will is only legalized wish. I am aware that great particularity is required in such cases as ours. But when your honor reviews the statements of Martha Greeley, of Mrs. Christenson, of the six superintendents of inst.i.tutions of charity, and of Dr. Silsby--yes, and I will add the letter to Brother Hodgkins, who, it now appears, was to stand as executor only of that small residue of the estate which did not go to the founding of the Arnold academia--when your honor reviews these I am convinced that you will agree that the disposition of this vast property is not a matter to be hastily determined.

"My brother has referred to the supposed advantage reaped by Floyd from the destruction of the will. Floyd is not here to speak for himself, but he has contended consistently that the reduction of his legacy to $20,000 was made at his own request, and that even that small sum was in excess of his wishes. Read as I read them, the expressions of endearment in the letter to Dr. Silsby support this statement. They are not the language of an irate testator, used in reference to a disinherited heir. Allow me, moreover," s.h.a.garach was now looking straight at Mrs. Arnold, "to point out that Robert Floyd was not the only gainer by the destruction of Prof. Arnold's will. What atom of evidence has been adduced to show that the testator remembered Harry Arnold?"

Mrs. Arnold started and reddened at the mention of her son's name. Then she put her handkerchief to her lips and coughed nervously. s.h.a.garach's glance was just long enough to avoid attracting general attention toward her.

"For these reasons I ask that your honor schedule a second hearing of this important cause, to take place after a complete survey of the evidence shall have demonstrated that not Robert Floyd but another is responsible for the death of Mary and Florence Lacy."

Mrs. Arnold's trembling was painfully apparent, and there was nothing in Hodgkins' feeble and desultory reply to give her hope.

"I will take the matter under consideration," said Judge Dunder, when he had closed, and s.h.a.garach knew that a severe blow at Robert's reputation, as well as a timely relief to the Arnold purse, had been prevented by that morning's work.

There were fewer clients than usual in the office when he returned. One of them, a large man, immediately arose.

"I am Patrolman Chandler," said he.

"What can we do for each other?"

"Not much, perhaps." The policeman drew an envelope from his pocket and showed a lemon-colored glove inside. "Will that help you any?"

"Perhaps. It has a story?"

"A short one. That glove's been in my pocket ever since I was taken to the hospital when the girl fell on me. Never thought of it; hardly knew it was there. Had broken bones to think of, you know."

"I read of your bravery at the fire."

"Pshaw! Well, here's the history of that article. I know Floyd; have known him ever since I took that route. Things look blue for the boy, but I never heard harm of him before, and says I to myself, yesterday when I found the glove, perhaps Mr. s.h.a.garach can turn this to good account, and perhaps he can't. It's worth trying, and if it saves Floyd's neck, why, it's no more'n I'd like to have him do for me if our positions were just right about."

"That's the golden rule, stated in the vernacular. Where did you find this?"

"On the stairs in the Arnold house."

"After the fire?"

"When I went into the house at the beginning."

"How was it lying?"

"About the middle of the staircase, I believe."

"A little to the left, with the fingers pointing to the door?"

"Exactly--close to the wall."

"It is a right-hand glove. He was carrying it in his left hand and dropped it when running downstairs." s.h.a.garach said this sotto voce, as if to himself.

"Who? Floyd?"

"The incendiary."

"I don't know that I ever saw young Floyd with gloves on except in winter. Seems too loud for him anyway--more like some swell's."

"You will leave this with me?"

"Glad to, glad if it helps you," said the officer, rising to go. s.h.a.garach took his hand and thanked him, then tried on the glove and studied it for fully five minutes before admitting his regular clients. If it were Floyd's the case had neither gained nor lost. But he felt that the kid was too fine, the make too fashionable, for the eccentric young radical, who, as Chandler had noticed, never wore gloves except for protection against the cold. There was no hint of ident.i.ty about it. Had it belonged to Harry Arnold? If so, how did it happen to lie on the stairs of his uncle's house immediately after the fire?

The island fort was a many-angled specimen of ancient masonry, following the sh.o.r.e line of an islet in the harbor. It was useless now. No flag streamed from its pole. Pa.s.sing vessels no longer saluted it, only a lame old sergeant being about to protect the property. By an arrangement with the local authorities it had been converted into a pleasure-ground and connected with an adjacent peninsular of the city by a pier or bridge of half a mile's length. This was the rendezvous mentioned by the anonymous correspondent.

When s.h.a.garach stepped from the car on his way to meet Mr. Skull-and-Crossbones he found that he was early. It still wanted twenty minutes to the appointed hour. The humanity of the district was just rising from its supper tables in teeming tenements to enjoy the cool liberty of the twilight air, and s.h.a.garach listened to the sayings of the mult.i.tude whose current he found himself stemming. They were flowing to an open-air concert at some point behind him. The correspondent had timed his evening well for a lonely conference.

As he approached the pier the crowd thinned and at last he found himself walking near the water alone. Ships were putting into port, with red and green caution lights hung aloft. The sea, now violet, melted into the sky and a gathering dimness subdued everything to one tone. Only the black tree-ma.s.ses and the outlines of the houses stood out somberly distinct.

"We violate nature," said s.h.a.garach to himself, "with our angular, unsightly houses, but she puts her own fairer version on all at last--mosses the manse, curves the beach, litters the ruin, bathes the hard carpentry and mason work of the city with soft twilight balm." He looked back upon the sad acc.u.mulation of misery, amid whose foulest reek he was doomed to live. A greenish tint hung over it where the sunset had sunk. It was a rare hue for the heavens to wear--something bizarre yet beautiful, like yellow roses.

Thus far s.h.a.garach had walked alone. Leaning over the railing on the right, he saw three boys fishing in a dory below. One of them was just lighting a lantern, for the thick dusk had begun to gather. The penetrating silence favored their occupation and he paused a moment to watch the silver-bellied mackerel slapping their bodies in the basket. A little farther on an oafish monster stood against the railing on the left. s.h.a.garach thought he leered mirthlessly when their eyes met.

Then at the middle of the pier he came to a closed gate, shutting off access to the island.

"No admission to the fort after 7 p. m.----" He had started to read the placard, when suddenly he felt himself seized from behind. A hand over his mouth throttled the outcry he launched. It was too late to reach for the revolver. A brief, fierce trial of strength and he found himself forced over the railing into the water. The shock, to one who had never entered the ocean before, was icy as death.

His senses did not depart from him. He made an effort to lie still on the surface and to hold his breath. A hideous face projected over the railing, printed itself on his memory, and then disappeared. He knew that he clutched his a.s.sailant's cap in his right hand, and that the lights of the city were dancing before him as he rose and sunk. Then the only thing he felt was the gurgling of the deep, dark water nearer, nearer, nearer. How to fight it off? His hands wildly strove to push it away. All the sweetness of the world he was leaving flashed through him in one pregnant second, whereupon his resolution yielded. He opened his lips to utter the fatal "Help!" of the drowning man, and the element rushed in and made him its own.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE BREWING STORM.

Friday was to be the last day of Warden Tapp's tenure, and Robert was aware that the convicts had determined to celebrate his removal by some demonstration of their joy. Everybody was dissatisfied with his government--the public, his deputies, his charges, alike. Stalking about with that inveterate preference for his own company which had won him the nickname of "The Pelican," he gnawed his huge mustache in a manner that seemed to betray that he was not oversatisfied with the results himself.

The prison which he had taken from his predecessor, as orderly as any barracks the world over, he left to his successor (a military man) slovenly, rebellious and tunneled with secret avenues of communication to the outside world. He had begun with leniency and a smiling face. Vice, indolence and a thousand weedy growths flourished up under his elevated chin. When he awoke at last his rigor in uprooting them was intemperate and ineffectual. Several felons escaped. A riot broke out and the warden had been helplessly holding the reins behind a runaway horse ever since.

He had flogged men for not saluting when he pa.s.sed, yet he was hooted at every time he showed his head to the crowd. He had strung three brushmakers up by the thumbs for idling, yet every shop except the harness-makers, in spite of free labor, showed a deficit for the last half-year. The cells were so littered with storage that it was almost impossible to enter them. Contraband tobacco, gift books, tools, bird cages, shirts and shoes smuggled from the workshops, even knives and revolvers, were found in them.

The "block," or dark dungeon, was always full. If some dozen of the conniving deputies had been sent there, Warden Tapp might have had less to extenuate.

"It's quiet this evening," said Robert to Dobbs on Thursday.

"That's the lull before the storm, my boy," said the cracksman.

"You think we'll have trouble, then?"

"Keep your 'ead in, my boy, when it rains. These 'ere coves 'll get a wetting that'll spoil their Sunday duds. They 'aven't no hart."