The Incendiary Part 37

"I stripped the accused and confiscated the clothes he wore."

"These were the clothes he had worn at the time of the fire, also?"

"He stated so."

"You have preserved those garments?"

"Yes, sir."

"You also confiscated the desk which Floyd had occupied at the Beacon office?"

"The drawers of it, yes, sir."

"Have you preserved the contents of that desk?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will you inform the jury what you found in the drawers of Robert Floyd's desk?"

"Three copies of the anarchist organ, Freiheit. There they are."

"Do these papers preach philosophical anarchy, Mr. McCausland?"

"I should say not. They are in German, but the leading editorial of this one--which was kindly translated for me by a friend--recommends the 'stamping out by fire and sword of John Burns and all such peace-mongering worms.'"

"A forcible expression, surely. It is the Most organ, in short?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will you state the further results of your search in the desk?"

"I found this paper of powder, a part of a fuse, a written formula for manufacturing a bomb, a blotter with part of a note on it, legible by the help of a mirror----"

"That will do for the present, Mr. McCausland. And will you state what you may have found in the pockets of Floyd's coat?"

"A quant.i.ty of powder. There were grains of it also on the knees of his trousers."

"Similar to that found in his desk?"

"Yes, sir."

"What else?"

"A burnt match," said the inspector, just as the clock struck five and the constable's gavel sounded a prelude to adjournment.

CHAPTER L.

THE BOMBARDMENT CONTINUES.

Nearly the same gathering was admitted to the courtroom on the second day as on the first. But, wedged in between Mrs. Arnold and the unknown woman in black, Emily had pointed out to her the famous novelist Ecks, who sat with his head inclined toward the still more famous playwright Wye. Wye was mooting volubly the chain of testimony which had been spun around the accused on the foregoing day, which seemed to possess for him all the circ.u.mscribed but inexhaustible interest of the chessboard or a dramatic intrigue. But Ecks was sketching in pencil the princ.i.p.al characters of the trial.

"We shall summon Mr. McCausland again," said the district attorney. "At present we surrender him to the counsel for the accused."

A keen glance shot from lawyer to witness, comparing the two great opponents. s.h.a.garach's face was a mask, stern and impenetrable, but McCausland visibly braced himself for the encounter. Equal they might be in a sense, as Mount Everest is the peer of the Amazon, but as different in their spheres as the river and the mountain. In the detective's subtle eye the keen observer might have discovered a finesse and a suppleness not altogether remote from the corresponding traits in the cracksman whom he had impersonated. But s.h.a.garach could no more have counterfeited Bill Dobbs than McCausland could have acted with success the role of Count L'Alienado.

"Would you hang a kitten on the evidence of a burned match, inspector?" asked the lawyer.

"If he were old enough to scratch it," answered the detective.

"Will you turn out the contents of your upper right vest pocket?"

McCausland's face became rosy with embarra.s.sment, but he obeyed the request. A ripple of laughter went around when among the broken-up fractions of a card of lucifers there appeared one that was blackened at the end. The inspector allowed the merriment to die, then coolly remarked: "It is the match I found on Floyd."

And it was felt that he had held his own.

"Phineas Fowler," called the district attorney. The old chemist tottered to the stand and held a parchment hand high in air while the clerk administered his oath.

"What is your business, Mr. Fowler?"

The pantaloon trembled visibly and twisted the two horns of his forked board one after the other with nervous fingers, blinking about all the while like an old Rosicrucian projected into the daylight world.

"A chemist," he piped, in a treble so high that the thoughtless smiled, but so feeble the chief justice bent forward to hear and the stenographer requested him to raise his voice. Ecks began sketching away rapidly at the advent of this character. The very odor of acids seemed to exhale from his shivering person.

"What lines of trade do you supply?"

"Photographers, dyers, armorers----"

"The last cla.s.s with explosives and fulminating compounds, I presume?"

"Also with oils and varnishes," answered the pantaloon, his voice breaking in the desperate effort he made to be audible.

"Would you call him senile or venerable?" whispered Ecks.

"He must have sold Floyd the powder," answered Wye, intent on the imbroglio.

"Have you ever met the accused?"

"Yes, sir."

"When and where?"

"In my office twice."

"What was the date of the first visit of the accused to your office?"

"June 23."

"And of the second?"

"June 27."

"On what business did the accused call to see you, Mr. Fowler?"

"He was inquiring about bombs," answered the witness, a strong back-country tw.a.n.g coming out as he proceeded and adding to his other peculiarities.

"What did he especially desire to know about bombs?"

"How they were made."

"Were you able to inform him? Have you made a study of this subject?"

"Oh, yes. There's nothing mysterious about it."

"You entered into a minute discussion, then, with Floyd on the subject of bomb-making?"

"Well, no; I answered his questions. Didn't volunteer nothing." Mr. Fowler grew reckless of the niceties of speech as he accelerated his replies. "Don't believe it's a proper matter to be preached from the housetops."

"Your room is tolerably near the top of the house, however?"

"Top story, sir."

"Well, proper or improper, what was the upshot of your conversation?"

"He was coming again and I was to sell him some powder."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, three feet of fuse."

"Will you describe this fuse?"

"Why it's just common fuse, made out of linen cloth, sprinkled with a slow-burning mixture--nitre, sulphur and a little powder--sheathed in rubber and fitted into a metal plug."

"You sold Floyd three feet of this fuse?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how much of the powder?"

"Two pounds."

"Common gunpowder?"

"Yes, sir; American army powder."

"You were to sell him these commodities, you say. Did he actually return and purchase them?"

"Yes, sir; I had them all done up when he called again."

"Called on June 27, as he had promised to?"

"Called on June 27, sir."

"Which was the day before the fire and the day after his uncle's funeral, according to Dr. Thornton's testimony as to the date."

"I dare say you are right, sir," squeaked the pantaloon, who evidently stood in trepidation of his burly examiner.

"For what purpose did you understand that the accused wanted this powder and this fuse?"

"Told me he wanted to make some sort of a bomb."

"Did he ask you for particular directions?"

"Well, yes."

"Did you furnish him the sh.e.l.l or envelope of this projected bomb?"

"Oh, no; he said he had a teakittle to hum," said the pantaloon, whereupon the repressed volcano of merriment exploded once more, to the indignation of John Davidson, who occupied a front seat, listening to the testimony of his townsman. The chief justice looked stern and the district attorney's deep ba.s.s rumbled on without a pause.

"A teakettle at home. And how was that to be converted into the covering of a bomb?"

"Why, I told him to put the fuse inside and draw it through the nozzle, so the plug would stop up the spout, then shovel in the powder, tamp her up with nails and pellets, fasten down the lid and you have a bomb ready made. The kettle, I understood, was a frail one, hardly stronger than a canister."

"Not a concussion bomb, Mr. Fowler, I suppose?"

"No, sir. Those are filled with dynamite or giant powder. I don't deal in the high explosives."

"This bomb would have to be fired through the fuse?"

"Yes, sir."

"But it would explode with considerable force."

"Well, I guess it would rip things jest a trifle." Here the pantaloon forced the ghost of a smile himself.

"Kindly bring in the safe."

It came in on the shoulders of two stout porters, all breached and battered and bubbled in places, as if the iron had melted like tar.

"The explosion of this sh.e.l.l, the construction of which you have just described, would blast away a very considerable obstacle, you say?"