by Homer Greene
CHAPTER V.
THE VERDICT.
Pale and trembling, Tom passed out into the aisle and down around thejury-box, and stepped upon the little railed platform.
In impressive tones, the clerk administered to him the oath, and hekissed the Holy Bible and swore to "tell the truth, the whole truth,and nothing but the truth."
_The whole truth!_
The words echoed and re-echoed through his mind, as he looked downupon the lawyers and jurors, and across the bar into the hundreds ofexpectant faces turned toward him. For a moment he felt frightened anddizzy.
But only for a moment; fear gave place to astonishment, for JackRennie had started to his feet, with wild eyes and face blanched withsudden dread, and, bending over till his great beard swept Pleadwell'sshoulder, he whispered, hoarsely, into the lawyer's ear, in a toneaudible throughout the room,--
"Ye did na tell me who the lad was! He mus' na be sworn; it's nalawfu'. I'll no' have it; I say I'll no' have it!"
In another moment Pleadwell had his hand on the man's shoulder, andforced him into a seat. There was a whispered consultation of a fewminutes between attorney and client, and then, while Rennie satwith his eyes turned steadfastly away from the witness, his hugehand clutching the edge of the table, and the expression of nervousdread still on his face, Pleadwell, calmly, as if there had been nointerruption, proceeded with the examination.
He asked Tom about his residence and his occupation, and about howblind Bennie lost himself in the mines. With much skill, he carriedthe story forward to the time when Tom said good-night to Sandy, andstarted down the hill toward home.
"As you approached the breaker, did you see a man pass by you in theshadow?"
"I did," replied Tom.
"About how far from you?"
"I don't know; ten feet, maybe."
"Where did he go?"
"Around the corner, by the engine-room."
"From what point did he come?"
"From the loading-place."
"How long after he left the loading-place was it that you saw the firstblaze there?"
"Two or three minutes, maybe."
"Did you see his face?"
"I did."
"How did he look? Describe him."
"He was short and thin, and had no whiskers."
Pleadwell pointed to Rennie, and asked,--
"Was this the man?"
"No, sir," answered Tom.
Pleadwell leaned back in his chair, and turned to the jury with a smileof triumph on his face. The people in the court-room nodded to eachother, and whispered, "That clears Jack."
Every one, but Jack Rennie himself, seemed to feel the force of Tom'stestimony. The prisoner still sat clutching the table, looking blanklyat the wall, pale, almost trembling, with some suppressed emotion.
But through Tom's mind kept echoing the solemn words of his oath: "Thewhole truth; _the whole truth_." And he had not told it; his testimonywas no better than a lie. An awful sense of guilt came pressing in uponhim from above, from below, from every side. Hateful voices seemedsounding in his brain: "Perjurer in spirit! Receiver of bribes!"
The torture of his self-abhorrence, in that one moment of silence, wasterrible beyond belief.
Then a sudden impulse seized him; a bright, brave, desperate impulse.
He stepped down from the witness-stand, passed swiftly between chairsand tables, tearing the money from his breast-pocket by the way,and flinging the hated hundred dollars down before the astonishedPleadwell, he returned as quickly as he came, stepped into hisplace with swelling breast and flaming cheeks and flashing eyes, andexclaimed, falling, in his excitement, into the broad accent of hismother tongue,--
"Noo I'm free! Do what ye wull wi' me! Prison me, kill me, but I'll no'hold back the truth longer for ony mon, nor a' the money that ony moncan gi' me!"
Men started to their feet in astonishment. Some one back among thepeople began to applaud. Jack Rennie turned his face toward the boywith a look of admiration, and his eyes were blurred with sudden tears.
"He's the son o' his father!" he exclaimed; "the son o' his father!He's a braw lad, an' good luck till him, but it was flyin' i' the faceo' fortune to swear him. I told ye! I told ye!"
"Who gave you that money?" asked the district attorney of Tom, whenquiet had been partially restored.
Pleadwell was on his feet in an instant.
"Stop!" he shouted. "Don't answer that question! Did I give you thatmoney?"
"No, sir," replied Tom, awed by the man's vehemence.
"Did Jack Rennie give you that money?"
"No, sir."
Pleadwell turned to the court.
"Then if your Honors please, we object to the witness answering thisquestion. This is a desperate theatrical trick, concocted by theprosecution to prejudice this defendant. We ask that they be notallowed to support it with illegal evidence."
The judge turned to Tom.
"Do you know," he asked, "that this money was given to you by thedefendant's authority, or by his knowledge or consent?"
"I can't swear that it was," replied Tom.
"The objection is sustained," said his Honor, abruptly.
Pleadwell had gained a point; he might yet win the day. But thedistrict attorney would not loose his grip.
"Why did you just give that money to the attorney for the defence?" heasked.
Pleadwell interposed another objection, but the court ruled thatthe question was properly in the line of cross-examination of thedefendant's witness, and Tom answered,--
"'Cause I had no right to it, an' he knows who it belongs to."
"Whom does it belong to?"
"I don't know, sir. I only know who gave it to me."
"When was it given to you?"
"A week ago last Thursday, sir."
"Where was it given to you?"
"In Mr. Pleadwell's office."
"Was Mr. Pleadwell present?"
"No, sir."
"How much money was given to you?"
"One hundred dollars, sir."
"For what purpose was it given to you?"
"To send my blind brother away to get his sight."
"I mean what were you to do in consideration of receiving the money?"
Before Tom could answer, Pleadwell was addressing the court:
"I submit, your Honor," he said, "that this inquisition has gonefar enough. I protest against my client being prejudiced by theunauthorized and irrelevant conduct of any one."
The judge turned to the district attorney. "Until you can more closelyconnect the defendant or his authorized agent," he said, "with thegiving of this money, we shall be obliged to restrict you in thiscourse of inquiry."
Pleadwell had made another point. He still felt that the case was nothopeless.
Then Summons, the private counsel for the prosecution, took thewitness. "Tom," he said, "did you tell the truth in your directexamination?"
"I did, sir," replied Tom, "but not the whole truth."
"Well, then, suppose you tell the rest of it."
"I object," interposed Pleadwell, "to allowing this witness to rambleover the field of legal and illegal evidence at will. If counsel hasquestions to ask, let him ask them."
"We will see that the witness keeps within proper limits," said thejudge; then, turning to Tom, "Go on, sir."
"Well, you see," said Tom, "it was all just as I told it; only when Igot to the bottom o' the hill, an' see that man go by me in the dark, Iwas s'prised like, an' I stopped an' listened. An' then I heard a noisein under the loadin'-place, an' then that man," pointing his tremblingforefinger to Rennie, "came out, a-kind o' talkin' to himself. An' hesaid that was the last job o' that kind he'd ever do; that they put iton him 'cause he hadn't anybody to feel bad over him if he should getcatched at it.
"An' then I see a blaze start up right where he come from, an' it gotbigger an' bigger. An' then he turned an' see me, an' he grabbed me bythe shoulders, an' he said, 'Don't you speak nor whisper, or I'l
l takethe life o' ye,' or somethin' like that; I can't quite remember, I wasso scared. An' then he pushed me down the track, an' he said, 'Run asfast as ever you can, an' don't you dare to look back.'
"An' I run, an' I didn't look back till the fire was a-burnin' upawful; an' then I went with the rest to look at it; an' he was there,an' a-workin' desperate to save things, an'--an'--an' that's all."
Tom stopped, literally panting for breath. The jurors were leaningforward in their seats to catch every word, and over among the crowdedbenches, where the friends of the prisoner were gathered, there wasa confused hum of voices, from which, now and then, rose angry andthreatening words.
Rennie sat gazing intently upon Tom, as though fascinated by the boy'spresence, but on his face there was no sign of disappointment or anger;only the same look of admiration that had come there when Tom returnedthe money.
He clutched Pleadwell's sleeve, and said to him,--
"That settles it, mon; that settles it. The spirit o' the dead father'si' the lad, an' it's no use o' fightin' it. I'll plead guilty noo, an'end it, an' tak ma sentence an' stan' it. How long'll it be, think ye?"
"Twenty years in the Penitentiary," answered Pleadwell, sharply andshortly.
Rennie dropped back in his chair, as though the lawyer had struck him.
"Twenty years!" he repeated; "twenty years! That's a main lang time; Icanna stan' that; I canna live through it. I'll no' plead guilty. Dowhat ye can for me."
But there was little that Pleadwell could do now. His worst fears hadbeen realized. He knew it was running a desperate risk to place on thewitness-stand a boy with a conscience like Tom's; but he knew, also,that if he could get Tom's story out in the shape he desired to, andkeep back the objectionable parts, his client would go free; and he hadgreat faith in the power of money to salve over a bruised conscience.
He had tried it and failed; and there was nothing to do now but makethe best of it.
He resumed his calm demeanor, and turned to Tom with the question,--
"Did you ever tell to me the story you have just now told on thewitness-stand, or any thing like it?"
"I never did," answered Tom.
"Did you ever communicate to me, in any way, your alleged knowledge ofJack Rennie's connection with this fire?"
"No, sir."
Pleadwell had established his own innocence, so far as Tom's story wasconcerned at least, and he dismissed the boy from the witness-standwith a wave of his hand which was highly expressive of virtuousindignation.
Tom resumed his seat by the side of Sandy, whose mouth and eyes werestill wide open with surprise and admiration, and who exclaimed, as hegave the boy's hand a hearty grip,--
"Weel done, Tommy, ma lad! weel done! I'm proud o' ye! an' Bennie'n themither'll be prouder yet o' ye!"
And then, for the first time since the beginning of his trouble, Tomput his face in his hands and wept. But he felt that a great load hadbeen lifted from his conscience, and that now he could look any man inthe eye.
There were two or three unimportant witnesses sworn in rebuttal andsur-rebuttal, and the evidence was closed.
Pleadwell rose to address the jury, feeling that it was a useless taskso far as his client was concerned, but feeling, also, that he mustexert himself to the utmost in order to rebut a strong presumption ofquestionable conduct on his own part.
He denounced Tom's action in returning the money to him as a dramatictrick, gotten up by the prosecution for effect; and called particularattention to his own ignorance of the gift of any such money.
He declared Tom's story of his meeting with Rennie, on the night of thefire, to be improbable and false, and argued that since neither theprosecution, nor the defence, nor any one else, had ever heard one wordof it till it came out on the witness-stand, it must, therefore, existonly in the lad's heated imagination.
He dwelt strongly on the probable falsity of the testimony of theso-called detective; went over carefully the evidence tending toestablish an _alibi_ for Rennie; spoke with enthusiasm of the man'sefforts and bravery in the work of rescue; lashed the corporations fortheir indifference to the wrongs of the workingmen; spoke piteously ofthe fact that the law denied to Rennie the right of being sworn in hisown behalf; and closed with a peroration that brought tears into theeyes of half the people in the room.
He had made a powerful speech, and he knew it; but he thought of itseffect only as tending to his own benefit; he had no hope for Rennie.
Mr. Summons addressed the jury on the part of the Commonwealth. Hemaintained that the evidence of the detective, taken in connection withall the other circumstances surrounding the case, was sufficient tohave convicted the defendant, without further proof.
"But the unexpected testimony," he declared, "of one brave andhigh-minded boy has placed the guilt of the prisoner beyond theshadow of a doubt; a boy whose great heart has caused him to yieldto temptation for the sake of a blind brother; but whose tenderconscience, whose heroic spirit, has led him to throw off the bondswhich this defence has placed upon him, and, in the face of all theterrors of an order whose words are oaths of vengeance, and whose actsare deeds of blood, to fling their hated bribes at their feet, as theysat in the very court of justice; and to 'tell the truth, the wholetruth, and nothing but the truth,' for the sake of his own honor andthe upholding of the law."
Warming up to his theme, and its possibilities in the way of oratoricaleffect, Summons brought wit to bear upon logic and logic upon law, andeloquence upon both, until, at the close of his address, the convictionof the defendant was all but certain, and Tom's position as a hero waswell assured.
Then came the charge of the court; plain, decisive, reviewing theevidence in brief, calling the attention of the jury to their dutyboth to the Commonwealth and to the defendant, directing them thatthe defendant's guilt must be established, in their minds, beyond areasonable doubt, before they could convict; but that, if they shouldreach that point, then their verdict should be simply "Guilty."
The jury passed out of the court-room, headed by a constable, afterwhich counsel for the defendant filed exceptions to the charge, andthe court proceeded to other business.
Very few people left the court-room, as every one supposed it wouldnot be long before the bringing in of a verdict, and they were notmistaken. It was barely half an hour from the time the jury retireduntil they filed back again, and resumed their seats in the jury-box.
"Gentlemen of the jury," said the clerk of the court, rising, "have youagreed upon a verdict?"
"We have," replied the foreman, handing a paper to a tipstaff, which hehanded to the clerk; and the clerk in turn handed it to the presidingjudge.
The judges, one after another, read the paper, nodded their approval,and returned it to the clerk, who glanced over its contents, and thenaddressed the jury as follows:--
"Gentlemen of the jury, hearken unto your verdict as the court have itrecorded. In the case wherein the Commonwealth is plaintiff and JackRennie is defendant, you say you find the defendant _guilty_. So sayyou all?"
The members of the jury nodded their heads, the clerk resumed his seat,and the trial of Jack Rennie was concluded.
It was what every one had anticipated, and people began to leave thecourt-room, with much noise and confusion.
Rennie was talking, in a low tone, with Pleadwell and Carolan, whilethe sheriff, who had advanced to take charge of the prisoner, stoodwaiting for them to conclude the conference.
"I don't want the lad harmed," said Rennie, talking earnestly toCarolan, "him, nor his mither, nor his brither; not a hair o' his head,nor a mou'-ful o' his bread, noo min' ye--I ha' reasons--the mon thatso much as lays a straw i' the lad's path shall suffer for't, if I haveto live a hunder' year to tak' ma vengeance o' him!"
The sonorous voice of the court-crier, adjourning the courts until thefollowing morning, echoed through the now half-emptied room, and thesheriff said to Rennie,--
"Well, Jack, I'm waiting for you."
"Then ye need na wait lo
nger, for I'm ready to go wi' ye, an' I'mhungry too." And Rennie held out his hands to receive the handcuffswhich the sheriff had taken from his pocket. For some reason, theywould not clasp over the man's huge wrists.
"Oh!" exclaimed the officer, "I have the wrong pair. Simpson," turningto his deputy, "go down to my office and bring me the large handcuffslying on my table."
Simpson started, but the sheriff called him back.
"Never mind," he said, "it won't pay; Jack won't try to get away fromus, will you, Jack?" drawing a revolver from his pocket as he spoke,and grasping it firmly in his right hand, with his finger on thetrigger.
"D'ye tak' me for a fool, mon?" said Rennie, laughing, as he glancedat the weapon; then, turning to Carolan and Pleadwell, he continued,"Good-nicht; good-nicht and sweet dreams till ye!" Jack had neverseemed in a gayer mood than as he marched off through the side-door,with the sheriff and his deputy; perhaps it was the gayety of despair.
Carolan had not replied to the prisoner's cheery "good-nicht." He hadlooked on at the action of the sheriff, with a curious expression inhis eyes, until the trio started away, and then he had hurried fromthe court-room at a gait which made Pleadwell stare after him inastonishment.
It was dark outside; very dark. A heavy fog had come up from the riverand enshrouded the entire city. The street-lamps shone but dimlythrough the thick mist, and a fine rain began to fall, as Tom and Sandyhurried along to their hotel, where they were to have supper, beforegoing, on the late train, to their homes.
Up from the direction of the court-house came to their ears a confusionof noises; the shuffling of many feet, loud voices, hurried calls, twopistol-shots in quick succession; a huge, panting figure pushing bythem, and disappearing in the fog and darkness; by and by, excited menhurrying toward them.
"What's the matter?" asked Sandy.
And some one, back in the mist, replied,--
"Jack Rennie has escaped!"
