The Orange Girl

by Walter Besant

  CHAPTER XI

  THE IMPENDING TRIAL

  The time--the awful time--the day of Fate--drew nearer. Despite theassurances both of Jenny and of her attorney there were moments whenanticipation and doubt caused agonies unspeakable. Sometimes I havethought that these agonies were cowardly: I should be ashamed of them:but no one knows, who has not suffered in the same way, the torture offeeling one's self in the absolute power of a crafty conspiracy directedby a man as relentless as a weasel after a rabbit, or an eagle after aheron, not out of hatred or revenge, but after money, the only object ofhis life, the real spring of his wickedness. After my experience, I canbriefly say, as David in his old age said, 'Let me fall into the handsof the Lord, for His mercies are great: but let me not fall into thehands of man.'

  Presently it wanted but a week: then six days, then five.

  'You should now,' said Mr. Dewberry, 'prepare and write out yourdefence: that is to say, your own speech after the trial is over. Takeno thought about the evidence; your counsel will cross-examine thewitnesses against you; he will also examine those for you. Trust yourcounsel for doing the best with both. Heaven help two or three of themwhen Mr. Caterham has done with them.' Mr. Caterham, K. C., our seniorcounsel, was reported to be the best man at the Old Bailey Bar; with himwas Mr. Stanton, a young man still, quite young, but with a brain offire and a front of brass. 'You must not leave your defence to theeloquence of the moment, which may fail you. Write it down; write itplainly, fully and without passion. State who you are; what youroccupation; what your salary; what your rent; what your daily habits; weshall have called witnesses to establish all these points. Then tell theCourt exactly what you have told me. Do not try to be eloquent orrhetorical. The plain facts, plainly told, will impress the Jury andwill affect the Judge's charge, far more than any flights of eloquenceon your part. What the Judge wants is to get at the truth. Rememberthat. Behind his habitual severity of manner Mr. Justice Parker, whowill try your case, is bent always upon discovering, if possible, thetruth. Sit down, therefore, and relate the facts, exactly as they were.Take care to marshal them in their best and most convincing manner. Manya good cause has been wasted by a careless and ignorant manner ofpresenting them. In your case first relate the facts as to the allegedassault. Next inform the Court who and what you are. Thirdly relate thecircumstances of your relations with Mr. Probus. Fourthly state thereasons why he would profit by your death. Next, call attention to theconversation overheard by Mr. Ramage. Then show that he has on more thanone occasion threatened you, and that he has actually imprisoned you inthe King's Bench in the hope of moving you. I think that you will have avery moving story to tell, supported, as it will be, by the evidencewhich has gone before. But you have no time to lose. Such a statementmust not be put together in a hurry. When it is finished I will read itover and advise you.'

  What was important to me in this advice was the necessity of ordering,or marshalling the facts. To one not accustomed to English Compositionsuch a necessity never occurred, and without such advice I might havepresented a confused jumble, a muddled array, of facts not dependent oneupon the other, the importance of which would have been lost. However,armed with this advice, I sat down, and after drawing up a schedule orlist of divisions, or headings, or chapters, I set to work, trying tokeep out everything but the facts. No one will believe how difficult athing it is to stick to the mere facts and to put in nothing more.Indignation carried me beyond control from time to time. I went out ofmy way to point to the villainy of Probus: I called the vengeance ofHeaven upon him and his colleagues: I appealed to the unmeritedsufferings of my innocent wife; to the shameful future of my innocentoffspring--and to other matters of a personal kind all of which wereruthlessly struck out by the attorney; with the result that I had withme when I went into court as plain and clear a statement of a case asever was presented by any prisoner. This statement I read and re-readuntil I knew it by heart: yet I was advised not to trust to memory butto take the papers into court and to seem to read. All this shows thecare which was taken by our ever-watchful attorney, lest anything shouldhappen to hinder the development of the case, as he intended and hoped.

  Among other things he called upon Mr. Probus, nominally on account ofanother matter.

  'I believe,' he said, 'that you are the attorney of Mr. MatthewHalliday?'

  'I have that honour.'

  'Yes. I observed the fact in reading an affidavit of yours in connectionwith a case in which I am engaged for the defence, the case of Mr.William Halliday, now in Newgate on a charge of highway robbery.'

  'Defence? He has, then, a defence?'

  'A defence? Certainly he has a defence. And Counsel. We have engaged Mr.Caterham, K. C., and Mr. Stanton, both of whom you probably know, ascounsel for the defence. My dear Sir, we have a very good defenceindeed. Let me see. You arrived on the spot, I observe, after thealleged attack was committed.'

  'Certainly. My affidavit and my evidence before Sir John, were only asto the identity of the robber.'

  'Quite so. But we need not concern ourselves, here, with the defence ofMr. William Halliday. I come to speak about the affairs of Mr. Matthew.'

  'Well, sir? What about his affairs?'

  'I hear that they are in a very bad way. Oh! Sir, indeed I do not wishto ask any questions. I only repeat what I hear in the City. It is therefreely stated that the Firm is ruined: that their ships are sold: andthat their business is gone.'

  'They are injurious and false reports.'

  'It is possible. I hope so. Meantime, however, I have come tocommunicate to you a matter which perhaps you do not know; but which itis important that you should know. The person chiefly concerned gives mepermission to speak of it. Perhaps you do know it already. Perhaps yourclient has not concealed it from you. Do you, for instance, know thatMr. Matthew Halliday is a married man?'

  Mr. Probus started. 'Married?' he cried. 'Married? No, certainly not.'

  'It is evident that you do not know your client's private history. Hehas been married two years and more. He does not, however, cohabit withhis wife. They are separated--by consent.'

  'Matthew married?'

  'They are separated, I say. Such separation, however, does not releasethe husband from the liability of his wife's debts.'

  'Has his wife--has Mrs. Matthew--contracted debts?' He looked veryuneasy.

  'His wife--she is a client of mine--has contracted very large debts. Shemay possibly make an arrangement with her creditors. But she may not. Inthe latter case, she will send them to your client who will hand themover to you. They will demand payment without delay. Failing paymentthey will take all the steps that the law permits--also without delay.That is why I thought it best to communicate the facts to you. My clientauthorized me to do so.'

  Mr. Probus made no answer. He could not understand what this meant.

  'If it is your interest to postpone bankruptcy, Mr. Probus, it may bewiser, for some reason or other, to force it on. I only came to tell youof this danger which threatens your client--not you, of course. But yourclient whose wife is mine.'

  Mr. Probus made at first no reply. He was thinking what this might mean.He was, of course, too wary not to perceive that the threat of forcingon bankruptcy was part of the defence, though in an indirect manner.

  'Have you,' he asked presently, 'any knowledge of the amount of thesedebts?'

  'I believe they amount to over L40,000.'

  Mr. Probus groaned aloud.

  'I thought I would prepare your mind for the blow which may happen anyday. Let me see. The trial takes place next Wednesday--next Wednesday. Idare say the creditors will wait till after that event. Good-morning,Mr. Probus.'

  He was going away when Mr. Probus called him back.

  'You are aware, sir, that I made the prisoner a handsome offer?'

  'I have been told that you made a certain offer.'

  'I offered him the very large sum of L5,000 if he would sell hissuccession. If he consents the principal witnesses in the case shall notapp
ear.'

  'Mr. Probus, as the case stands now I would not take L50,000 for theprice of his chance.'

  Again he was going away, and again Mr. Probus called him back.

  'We were speaking,' he said, 'of the defence of that unhappy young man,Mr. William Halliday. Of course I am concerned in the matter only as anaccidental bystander--and, of course, an old friend of the family. Thereis to be a defence, you say.'

  'Assuredly.'

  'I have always understood that the young man was quite poor, and thathis wife's friends were also quite poor.'

  'That is true. But a man may be quite poor, yet may have friends whowill fight every point rather than see the man condemned to death--andon a false charge.'

  'False?'

  'Quite false, I assure you.'

  'Sir, you surprise me. To be sure I did not see the assault. Yet theevidence was most clear. Two gentlemen, unknown to each other--anotherunknown to both who witnessed the affair--how can such evidence as thatbe got over?'

  'Well, Mr. Probus, it is not for me to say how it will be got over. Youare, I believe, giving evidence on what may be called a minor point; youwill therefore be in the Court on the occasion of the Trial. I can saynothing, of course; but I should advise all persons engaged in the caseto abstain from appearing if possible. I am assured that things quiteunexpected will take place. Meantime, to return to the point for which Icame here--advise your client to prepare himself to meet claims risingout of his wife's debts to the sum of many thousands.'

  'How many thousands, did you say?'

  'Forty thousand, I believe.'

  'Good Heavens, sir, what can a woman be doing to get through such anenormous sum?'

  'Indeed, I cannot inform you. It is an age in which women callthemselves the equals of men. Your client, Mr. Probus, has got through agreat deal more than that in the same time, including, I believe, theL25,000 which you lent him and which he cannot repay----'

  'What do you know about these affairs, Sir?'

  'Nothing--nothing. I shall see you in Court on the day of the Trial, Mr.Probus.'

  He went away leaving, as he intended, his brother in the law in ananxious condition, and having said nothing that would lead him tosuspect that the conspiracy was entirely discovered, and would be laidopen in court.

  Then came the last day before the Trial.

  In the afternoon all my friends were gathered together in my cell. Theattorney had read for the last time my statement of defence.

  He looked through it once more. 'I do not believe,' he said, 'that thecase will get so far. Whatever happens, Mr. Halliday, you will do wellto remember that you have to thank Madame here, and I do not believe itwill be possible for you to thank her enough, until you find out foryourself the sacrifices she has made for you and the risks she isrunning on your behalf. I can but hope, Madame, that the sacrifices maybe made up to you, and that the risks may prove illusory.'

  She smiled, but it was a wan smile. 'Whatever the result,' she said,'believe me, Sir, I shall never regret either the sacrifices, if youcall them such, or the risks, if by either we can defeat this mostabominable conspiracy.'

  'I was in hopes,' said the attorney, 'that Mr. Probus might beterrified, and so might withdraw at the last moment. It is easy towithdraw. He has only to order the two principal witnesses not toattend, when the case falls to the ground. As we are now free from allanxiety,' I sighed, 'well, from all but the very natural anxiety thatbelongs to a prison and to the uncertainty of the law, it is better forus that he should put in all the witnesses when we can establish ourcharge of conspiracy. I marvel, indeed, greatly that a man so astuteshould not perceive that defence, where a King's Counsel and a Junior ofgreat repute are engaged must mean a serious case, and that a seriouscase only means denial of the main charge. Else there would be nodefence at all. Well,' he rose--'I drink your health, Mr. Halliday, inthis excellent Madeira, and a speedy release to you.'

  'And I, Will,' said Tom, pouring out another glass, 'I, too, drink aspeedy release to you.'

  So they went away.

  Then Jenny got up. 'Cousin Will,' she said sadly, 'I have done all Icould for you. If the Black Jack knew to-night what would be said inCourt to-morrow, there would be murder. They will all be in Court--everyone--to hear the splendid perjuries of the Bishop and the Captain. Thosetwo worthies expect a brave day: indeed, it will be a great day forthem, yet not quite in the manner they anticipate. Well 'tis the lastnight in prison, Will. To-morrow thou wilt be back again in the Cottagebeside the river. Happy Will! Happy Alice! As for me----' she sighedwearily.

  'Why, Jenny, as for you--what can happen to you?'

  'Nothing can happen to me,' she replied, dolorously.

  'Then, why so sad?'

  'Because, from the outset I have foreseen something dark and dreadful,but I knew not what. I see myself in a strange place--but I know notwhere. I look around at the places which I know--and I cannot seemyself. I am neither at Drury Lane nor the Garden: nor am I at SohoSquare. I look in the grave, but I am not there. I am to live--but Iknow not where or how. All is to be changed----'

  'Jenny,' Alice caught her hand. 'This reading of the future. It iswicked since the Lord hath not thought fit to reveal what is to happen.'

  She repeated stupidly, as one who understands not, 'Since the Lord--whatLord?--what do you mean? Alice, how can I help it? I can read thefuture. Sometimes it is like a printed book to me. Well--no matter.Farewell, Will. Sleep sound to-night. To-morrow we shall meet in theCourt. Good-night, dear woman.' She threw her arms round Alice, kissedher and went away.

  And as for what passed between husband and wife--what tender things weresaid--what prayers for faith--on the eve of the day of Life or Death: ofHonour or of Shame; shall they, too, be written on a page which is opento every curious eye and to every mocking eye?