CHAPTER XXI.
A DAY OF TRIAL.
DURING the week that preceded his trial Myles did not care to be seenon the streets more than he could help. It was very unpleasant to berecognized and pointed out as the reporter who had robbed a safe, andto have people turn and stare at him. So he spent most of the time inhis room consulting with his friends or reading and answering the longletters from home that either his mother or Sister Kate wrote to himevery day. These were of the greatest comfort to him, and more than anything else enabled him to bear cheerfully the painful suspense of thistime of waiting.
His case was to be called on Monday, and on Sunday afternoon, feeling agreat desire for exercise and fresh air, Myles went for a long walk upthe side of a mountain, back of the town. He climbed nearly to the top,and then sat down to enjoy the quiet beauty of the panorama outspreadbefore him. The maples wore their brilliant autumn dresses and splashedthe landscape with irregular patches of scarlet and gold; in and outamong them wound the gleaming steely blue of a river; white farmhousesand red barns dotted the fields that stretched back from it, and thequiet town lay as though asleep at his feet. The whole glowing picture,bathed in waves of unclouded sunlight, was bordered by a soft blueframe of dim encircling mountains.
Lulled by the influence of the scene Myles fell into a reverie, fromwhich he was roused by a rustling in the bushes close beside him.Before he could move from his position they were parted, and fromthem stepped a little boy, hatless, ragged, and barefooted. The childlooked earnestly at the young reporter for a moment, and then, withouta word, thrust a bit of paper into his hand. Almost as he did so hesprang back into the bushes and disappeared. There was a slight rustleand all was still as before. Myles curiously unfolded the bit of paperthus left with him and saw that it contained a few words written with alead-pencil. They were:
“Yours received. Will be on hand when wanted. Would have come anyhow for little Bob’s sake.
“Hastily but gratefully yours, J. A.”
Myles’ plan had worked, and Jacob Allen would appear to testify in hisbehalf. The news was too good to keep. He must go at once and tell itto Captain Ellis and Billings. Hurrying down the narrow pathway Myleshad nearly reached the foot of the mountain, when, without a warning,he found himself face to face with Ben Watkins. There was a moment ofembarrassed hesitation, and then, moved by a sudden impulse, Mylesexclaimed:
“What is it all for, Ben? Why are you trying to ruin me?”
“I think I should be the one to ask why have you tried to ruin me eversince we first met,” replied Ben, bitterly.
“I try to ruin you, Ben Watkins!” cried Myles, amazed at the charge.“Such an idea never entered my head. I tried to save you from yourselfthat night we met in your uncle’s office; but I never even wished toharm you in my life.”
“You didn’t, eh?” sneered Ben. “Who was my rival in the college crew?Who made me the laughing-stock of all the fellows at New London? Whotook the key to the safe, promising to return it before it should becalled for, and then failed to keep that promise? Who did all thesethings if not you, Myles Manning?”
“All that is absurd, Ben, and you know it. Our college rivalry wasan honorable one and could do no harm to either of us. I had nothingwhatever to do with that New London affair, and was as greatlysurprised at the way it turned out as you were. In regard to the safebusiness, I own that my taking that key was a mistake. I did it,though, with the idea of saving you from committing a crime, and Ireturned it the moment I learned that your uncle had come back.”
“You returned it too late all the same.”
“Well, I am very sorry, and am willing to make a full explanation ofthat affair to your uncle, taking the blame so far as possible uponmyself. But, Ben, you know I never took that money.”
“I don’t know any thing about the money except that it was in the safethat night. You took the key away and when the safe was next opened itwas gone.”
“Is that the story you are going to swear to to-morrow?”
“I shall swear to the facts,” answered Ben, evasively.
“And supposing your testimony sends me to prison for a crime you know Inever committed?”
“I shall be very sorry, of course, to see an old classmate in such afix; but I don’t know what I can do to help it. The law must take itscourse.”
“You will live to regret this, Ben. Take my advice: straighten thismatter out while there is yet time and before it goes any further,”said Myles, earnestly.
“I think the chances are that the regrets will be on your side ratherthan on mine, and as for your advice, Mr. Reporter, I have not askedit, nor do I want it,” replied Ben, roughly.
As he spoke he pushed past Myles and went on his way, while the othercontinued on into the town, with a heavy heart.
The day of the trial broke bright and fair. Soon after breakfast thesheriff called at the hotel for Myles and took him to the court-house.Billings, in his capacity of reporter, was allowed to accompany hisfriend. The case had excited great interest in the town, and longbefore the court-room doors were opened they were surrounded by aneager crowd of would-be spectators. After the judge, jury, lawyers, andreporters had been admitted by a back door, and were in their places,the great front-door was thrown open and the crowd rushed in, almostinstantly, occupying every available space.
The court was declared open for business, and the judge announced thatthe case for its present consideration was that of the A. & B. RailroadCompany against Myles Manning, and asked if both sides were ready fortrial.
Both Captain Ellis and the counsel for the company answering that theywere, Myles was ordered to stand up. He did so, and the judge, lookingkeenly at him through his spectacles, said:
“Myles Manning, you stand accused of robbing the safe in the office ofthe division superintendent of the A. & B. Railroad, at this place, ofan express package containing one thousand dollars. What have you tosay to this charge? Are you guilty, or not guilty?”
“Not guilty!” answered Myles in a clear, steady voice, gazing full intothe face of the judge.
“Let the case proceed,” said the latter, settling himself comfortablyback in his big arm-chair.
Myles resumed his seat, and the counsel for the company opened the casewith a brief address to the jury, stating its nature and what he hopedto prove concerning it.
The first witness called was the landlord of the hotel, who identifiedMyles as having registered at his house on the very day that the dateof the express package showed it to have reached Mountain Junction. Hetestified that Myles and Ben Watkins were apparently on friendly terms,and that, during the evening while they were together in the latter’sroom, a quantity of wine was ordered up there. Then he described how,in the evening of the following day, as Myles was about to go out oftown, he had presented his bill for five dollars, and his guest claimedto have no money with which to pay it; how he had left his watch assecurity; how the next morning he had presented a fifty-dollar billto be changed, at the same time ordering him—the landlord—in a mostoffensive manner to take his pay out of that and return the watchimmediately. Then he testified to depositing that bill in the bank onthe following Saturday; to the visit of himself, the superintendent,and Ben Watkins, to the room formerly occupied by Myles—and to thediscovery in it of the empty express envelope beneath the carpet. Thiswitness was allowed to go without cross-examination.
The next witness called was Lieutenant Easter, who, as befitting theimportance of the occasion, appeared in full uniform, and created nolittle merriment by tripping over his dangling sword as he mounted thestand.
His answers were rambling and incoherent, but his testimony was tothe effect that on the evening of Mr. Manning’s arrival at the hotelhe had joined him and Mr. Watkins in a game of cards in the latter’sroom; that Mr. Manning played recklessly, drank heavily, and lost hismoney carelessly, declaring that he knew where to get plenty more, orwords to that effect. He testified to the dropping of the safe-key fromBen’s pocket
, but did not know what he did with it after that. He alsouttered his belief that Myles was in league with the strikers, and hadfurnished them with information they could not otherwise have obtained.
Captain Ellis sharply cross-examined this witness, and drew from himthe facts that both he and Ben Watkins had kept perfectly sober on theevening in question, that they played cards long enough to win all themoney Myles had, and that they then carried him to bed. He was alsoforced to acknowledge that he had at different times won large sums ofmoney from Ben Watkins, whose note for two hundred dollars he held atone time.
“Do you still hold that note?” asked Captain Ellis.
“No, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Because it has been paid.”
“When was it paid?”
“On the day I left this place, when Mr. Watkins and I were prisonerstogether in the hands of the strikers.”
“Why did Mr. Watkins choose that time to redeem his note?”
“He said he was afraid he would be robbed, and he wanted me to sharethe risk with him.”
“Did it take all the money he had to pay that note?”
“No, sir.”
“How much did he have left?”
“I don’t know.”
“A hundred dollars?”
“I should think more than that.”
“Did he have five hundred?”
“I should think so.”
“That will do, Mr. Lieutenant. I expect after this disclosure of yourtrue character you will find it rather difficult to get anybody to playcards with you again in this vicinity.”
The once pompous but now crestfallen little lieutenant hurriedly tookhis seat amid the titters and contemptuous glances of the spectators.
Several bell-boys and servants of the hotel testified to Myles’condition on the night of his arrival and the morning after, also tothe fact that he had gambled and been a loser.
The telegraph operator was made, very unwillingly, to describe Myles’agitated manner on the second evening that he was in town, upon hisreturn from Mr. Watkins’ office. He also testified that Myles hadtelegraphed to his paper for money, and had acknowledged himself to beso short of funds that he had been obliged to leave his watch at thehotel as security for a two days’ board-bill.
The famous fifty-dollar bill was shown, and the treasurer’s privatemark on it was pointed out to each one of the jury. The divisionsuperintendent identified the mark on the bill as being that of thetreasurer of the road, while the bank cashier identified the bill asone deposited by the landlord of the hotel.
The examination of these witnesses occupied the entire morning, andwhen, at noon, the court took a recess, public opinion had set prettystrongly against poor Myles, and many persons confidently predictedthat he would serve a term in the penitentiary.
Even Myles himself was greatly depressed by the seeming weight oftestimony against him; but Billings was as cheerful as a cricket.
“Why, my dear boy,” he cried, “the more evidence they pile up the morefun it will be for us to knock it down! You just wait till the captainbegins to pour in his hot shot; if he don’t make them hunt theircyclone cellars then I’m a clam, that’s all.”
When court was opened again after the recess, there was a general airof curiosity and expectation visible on all faces. The most importantwitness for the company had not yet been examined, and his testimonywas awaited with eager interest. There was, therefore, quite a littleflutter of excitement noticeable when Ben Watkins was called to thestand.
He took his place with a defiant air, as though he knew exactly what hewas going to say, and would like to see the man who would get any thingmore or less out of him. Still, when he took the oath to tell “thetruth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” it was observedthat he became very pale, and that his hands trembled. It was but for amoment, and then he regained a perfect self-control.
The usual questions as to his occupation and duties were asked andreadily answered. Then, how long had he and Mr. Manning been friends?
“We were never friends,” replied Ben.
“But you have been acquainted with him for some time?”
“Yes; we were classmates at X—— College.”
“You greeted him cordially and treated him as a friend upon his arrivalhere some two weeks ago?”
“Of course; I was glad to see an old classmate, and tried to make hisstay here as pleasant as possible.”
“You have heard the testimony of Lieutenant Easter in regard to theevents of that first evening. Does your recollection of those eventsagree with his?”
“It does.”
“Did the accused become intoxicated upon that occasion?”
“He did.”
“And gamble away his money recklessly?”
“He did.”
“Did he try to borrow money from you the next day?”
“Yes.”
“Did you lend it to him?”
“No; for I knew he would only gamble it away.”
“Did he know that you had the key to your uncle’s safe in yourpossession and that you were in the habit of concealing it in yourroom!”
“I believe he did.”
“Now, tell us in your own way what happened between you and him on thefollowing evening.”
“Well, feeling somewhat uneasy about the safety of the railroadbuilding I went down there late in the evening—about eleven o’clock,I think. I took a memorandum-book from the safe and was sitting at myuncle’s desk looking it over, when suddenly Manning entered the office.He said he wanted a hand-car with which to run to a telegraph stationa few miles out on the road and send a dispatch to his paper. I, ofcourse, agreed to let him have it, but tried to dissuade him from goingon account of the dangerous nature of the trip.
“While we were talking he stepped behind me, and the first thing Iknew he was looking into the open safe. I told him that was againstthe rules, and that I could not allow even him to remain in thatposition. He laughed and said, ‘That’s all right,’ but did not moveaway. Then I tried to push him a little to one side, so that I couldclose the safe-door. He resisted, and we had something very like awrestling-match. At last we both fell to the floor, overturning thetable on which the lamp stood as we did so.
“Manning was underneath, and he said, ‘Let me up, Ben; we have carriedthis joke far enough.’ I said, ‘All right, I’m glad if it is only ajoke,’ and let him up. When I had re-lighted the lamp Manning left,saying that he must go to the hotel for something and would meet thehand-car at the station. Then I restored the office to order, lockedthe safe, and went out to see about the car.”
“Do you think any thing was taken from the safe at that time?”
“No; I am certain there was not.”
“What did you do after ordering the hand-car?”
“I made the round of the buildings, caused the arrest of a striker whomI found lurking near one of them, helped extinguish a fire that brokeout in one of the shops, and then, utterly exhausted, returned to myroom and went to bed.”
“Where was the key of the safe when you last saw it that night?”
“In its usual hiding-place, beneath a pile of clothing in a corner ofone of my bureau drawers.”
“Was the door of your room locked?”
“It was; but the keys to all the rooms are the same.”
“Did Manning occupy a room near yours?”
“His was only three doors away.”
“Did you sleep soundly?”
“I slept like a log until it was nearly time for a train we were aboutto run out to start. I had but a few minutes in which to dress andreach the station.”
“Did you take the key of the safe with you?”
“No; in my hurry I forgot even to look and see if it was still where Ihad placed it.”
“When did you first learn that the money was missing?”
“Not until late the next day, when I returned from that trip. Then Ifound my uncle in his offic
e. He asked me for the safe key. I went tomy room for it and discovered that it was gone. My uncle had the lockpicked and we found that the package of money that had been in the safewhen I last opened it was also gone.”
Ben Watkins was asked many other questions, all of which he answeredwithout hesitation, and then he was turned over to Captain Ellis forcross-examination.
For two hours the captain plied him with questions designed to confusehim and cause him to contradict himself, but without success. He stuckto the story that he had already told and could not be made to takeback or alter one word of it.
When asked how he happened to have so much money about him on theday that he paid Lieutenant Easter’s note he answered that he onlyhad about three hundred dollars in all; but that it looked like morebecause it was in small bills: This money he claimed to have saved fromhis salary and to have won at cards.
Thus the case stood when court was adjourned; and by this time therewas hardly one among the spectators who was not fully convinced ofMyles Manning’s guilt.
As for Myles himself, he was utterly bewildered and in despair. Ifa witness, under oath, could so deliberately tell falsehood afterfalsehood, what chance was there for the truth to prevail? He had toacknowledge also that even the _true_ facts of the case, as thus farbrought to light, were greatly against him.
The poor fellow was separated from his friends that night and forcedto spend it in a small locked room in the sheriff’s house. It seemedalmost like a prison cell, and this fact, together with the tumult ofhis own unhappy thoughts, completely banished sleep. So all night longhe tossed on his narrow bed, longing for the light of the day that wasto decide his fate.