XI
MR. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX
When Otto came to see Hilda that evening she was guiltily effusive inher greeting and made up her mind that, as soon as they were alone, shemust tell him what she had all but done. But first there was the gameof pinochle which Otto must lose to her father. As they sat at theirgame she was at the zither-table, dreamily playing May Breezes as shewatched Otto and thought how much more comfortable she was in hisstrong, loyal love than in the unnatural strain of Mr. Feuerstein'secstasies. "'Work and love and home,'" she murmured, in time to hermusic. "Yes, father is right. They ARE the best."
August came in and said: "Hilda, here are two men who want to see you."
As he spoke, he was pushed aside and she, her father and Otto satstaring at the two callers. They were obviously detectives--"plainclothes men" from the Fifth-Street Station House. There could be nochance of mistake about those police mustaches and jaws, those wide,square-toed, police shoes.
"My name is Casey and this is my side-partner, Mr. O'Rourke," said theshorter and fatter of the two as they seated themselves without waitingto be asked. Casey took off his hat; O'Rourke's hand hesitated at thebrim, then drew his hat more firmly down upon his forehead. "Sorry tobreak in on your little party," Casey went on, "but the Cap'n sent usto ask the young lady a few questions."
Hilda grew pale and her father and Otto looked frightened.
"Do you know an actor named Feuerstein?" asked Casey.
Hilda trembled. She could not speak. She nodded assent.
"Did you see him to-day?"
"Yes," almost whispered Hilda.
Casey looked triumphantly at O'Rourke. Otto half rose, then sank backagain. "Where did you see him?" asked Casey.
"Here."
"Where else?"
Hilda nervously laced and unlaced her fingers. "Only here," sheanswered after a pause.
"Ah, yes you did. Come now, lady. Speak the truth. You saw him atMeinert's."
Hilda started violently. The detectives exchanged significant glances."No," she protested. "I saw him only here."
"Were you out of the store this afternoon?"
A long pause, then a faint "Yes."
"Where did you go?" Casey added.
The blood flew to Hilda's face, then left it. "To Meinert's," sheanswered. "But only as far as the door."
"Oh!" said Casey sarcastically, and O'Rourke laughed. "It's no use tohold back, lady," continued Casey. "We know all about your movements.You went in Meinert's--in at the family entrance."
"Yes," replied Hilda. She was shaking as if she were having a chill."But just to the door, then home again."
"Now, that won't do," said Casey roughly. "You'd better tell the wholestory."
"Tell them all about it, Hilda," interposed her father in an agonizedtone.
"Don't hold back anything."
"Oh--father--Otto--it was nothing. I didn't go in. He--Mr.Feuerstein--came here, and he looked so sick, and he begged me to comeover to Meinert's for a minute. He said he had something to say tome. And then I went. But at the door I got to thinking about all he'ddone, and I wouldn't go in. I just came back home."
"What was it that he had done, lady?" asked O'Rourke.
"I won't tell," Hilda flashed out, and she started up. "It's nobody'sbusiness. Why do you ask me all these questions? I won't answer anymore."
"Now, now, lady," said Casey. "Just keep cool. When you went, whatdid you take a knife from the counter for?"
"A knife!" Hilda gasped, and she would have fallen to the floor had notOtto caught her.
"That settles it!" said Casey, in an undertone to O'Rourke. "She's it,all right. I guess she's told us enough?"
O'Rourke nodded. "The Cap'n'll get the rest out of her when he putsher through the third degree."
They rose and Casey said, with the roughness of one who is afraid ofhis inward impulses to gentleness: "Come, lady, get on your things.You're going along with us."
"No! No!" she cried in terror, flinging herself into her father's arms.
Brauner blazed up. "What do you mean?" he demanded, facing thedetectives.
"You'll find out soon enough," said Casey in a blustering tone. "Theless fuss you make, the better it'll be for you. She's got to go, andthat's all there is to it."
"This is an outrage," interrupted Otto, rushing between Hilda and thedetectives.
"You daren't take her without telling her why. You can't treat us likedogs."
"Drop it!" said Casey contemptuously. "Drop it, Dutchy. I guess weknow what we're about."
"Yes--and I know what _I_'m about," exclaimed Otto. "Do you knowRiordan, the district leader here? Well, he's a friend of mine. If wehaven't got any rights you police are bound to respect, thank God,we've got a 'pull'."
"That's a bluff," said Casey, but his tone was less insolent. "Well, ifyou must know, she's wanted for the murder of Carl Feuerstein."
Hilda flung her arms high above her head and sank into a chair andburied her face. "It's a dream!" she moaned. "Wake me--wake me!"
Otto and Brauner looked each at the other in horror. "Murder!"whispered Brauner hoarsely. "My Hilda--murder!"
Otto went to Hilda and put his arms about her tightly and kissed her.
"She's got to come," said Casey angrily. "Now, will she go quietly orshall I call the wagon?"
This threat threw them into a panic. "You'd better go," said Otto inan undertone to Hilda. "Don't be frightened, dear. You're innocent andthey can't prove you guilty. You're not poor and friendless."
At the pressure of his arms Hilda lifted her face, her eyes shining athim through her tears. And her heart went out to him as never before.From that moment it was his, all his. "My love, my dear love," shesaid. She went to the closet and took out her hat. She put it onbefore the mirror over the mantelpiece. "I'm ready," she said quietly.
In the street, she walked beside Casey; her father and Otto were closebehind with O'Rourke. They turned into Sixth Street. Half a blockdown, in front of Meinert's, a crowd was surging, was filling sidewalkand street. When they came to the edge of it, Casey suddenly said "Inhere" and took her by the arm. All went down a long and windingpassage, across an open court to a back door where a policeman inuniform was on guard.
"Did you get her, Mike?" said the policeman to Casey.
"Here she is," replied Casey. "She didn't give no trouble."
The policeman opened the door. He let Casey, Hilda and O'Rourke pass.He thrust back Brauner and Otto. "No, you don't," he said.
"Let us in!" commanded Otto, beside himself with rage.
"Not much! Get back!" He had closed the door and was standing betweenit and them, one hand meaningly upon the handle of his sheathed club.
"I am her father," half-pleaded, half-protested Brauner.
"Cap'n's orders," said the policeman in a gentler voice. "The bestthing you can do is to go to the station house and wait there. Youwon't get to see her here."
Meanwhile Casey, still holding Hilda by the arm, was guiding her alonga dark hall. When they touched a door he threw it open. He pushed herroughly into the room. For a few seconds the sudden blaze of lightblinded her. Then--
Before her, stretched upon a table, was--Mr. Feuerstein. She shrankback and gazed at him with wide, fascinated eyes. His face was turnedtoward her, his eyes half-open; he seemed to be regarding her with aglassy, hateful stare--the "curse in a dead man's eye." His chin wasfallen back and down, and his lips exposed his teeth in a hideous grin.And then she saw-- Sticking upright from his throat was a knife, theknife from their counter. It seemed to her to be trembling as if stillagitated from the hand that had fiercely struck out his life.
"My God!" moaned Hilda, sinking down to the floor and hiding her face.
As she crouched there, Casey said cheerfully to Captain Hanlon, "Yousee she's guilty all right, Cap'n."
Hanlon took his cigar from between his teeth and nodded. At this a mansitting near him
burst out laughing. Hanlon scowled at him.
The man--Doctor Wharton, a deputy coroner--laughed again. "I supposeyou think she acts guilty," he said to Hanlon.
"Any fool could see that," retorted Hanlon.
"Any fool would see it, you'd better say," said Doctor Wharton. "Nomatter how she took it, you fellows would wag your heads and say'Guilty.'"
Hanlon looked uneasily at Hilda, fearing she would draw encouragementfrom Wharton's words. But Hilda was still moaning. "Lift her up andset her in a chair," he said to Casey.
Hilda recovered herself somewhat and sat before the captain, her eyesdown, her fluttering hands loose in her lap. "What was the troublebetween you and him?" Hanlon asked her presently in a not unkindlytone.
"Must I tell?" pleaded Hilda, looking piteously at the captain. "Idon't know anything about this except that he came into our store andtold me he was going to--to--"
She looked at Feuerstein's dead face and shivered. And as she looked,memories flooded her, drowning resentment and fear. She rose, wentslowly up to him; she laid her hand softly upon his brow, pushed backhis long, yellow hair. The touch of her fingers seemed to smooth thewild, horrible look from his features. As she gazed down at him thetears welled into her eyes. "I won't talk against him," she saidsimply. "He's dead--it's all over and past."
"She ought to go on the stage," growled Casey.
But Wharton said in an unsteady voice, "That's right, Miss. They can'tforce you to talk. Don't say a word until you get a lawyer."
Hanlon gave him a furious look. "Don't you meddle in this," he saidthreateningly.
Wharton laughed. "The man killed himself," he replied. "I can tell bythe slant of the wound. And I don't propose to stand by and see yougiving your third degree to this little girl."
"We've got the proof, I tell you," said Hanlon. "We've got a witnesswho saw her do it--or at least saw her here when she says she wasn'there."
Wharton shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't say a word," he said to Hilda. "Get a lawyer."
"I don't want a lawyer," she answered.
"I'm not guilty. Why should I get a lawyer?"
"Well, at any rate, do all your talking in court. These fellows willtwist everything you say."
"Take her to the station house," interrupted Hanlon.
"But I'm innocent," said Hilda, clasping her hands on her heart andlooking appealingly at the captain.
"Take her along, Casey."
Casey laid hold of her arm, but she shook him off. They went throughthe sitting-room of the saloon and out at the side door. When Hilda sawthe great crowd she covered her face with her hands and shrank back."There she is! There she is! They're taking her to the stationhouse!" shouted the crowd.
Casey closed the door. "We'll have to get the wagon," he said.
They sat waiting until the patrol wagon came. Then Hilda,half-carried by Casey, crossed the sidewalk through a double line ofblue coats who fought back the frantically curious, pushed on by thosebehind. In the wagon she revived and by the time they reached thestation house, seemed calm. Another great crowd was pressing in; sheheard cries of "There's the girl that killed him!" She drew herself uphaughtily, looked round with defiance, with indignation.
Her father and Otto rushed forward as soon as she entered the doors.She broke down again. "Take me home! Take me home!" she sobbed."I've not done anything." The men forgot that they had promised eachthe other to be calm, and cursed and cried alternately. The matroncame, spoke to her gently.
"You'll have to go now, child," she said.
Hilda kissed her father, then she and Otto clasped each the otherclosely. "It'll turn out all right, dear," he said. "We're having astreak of bad luck. But our good luck'll be all the better when itcomes."
Strength and hope seemed to pass from him into her. She walked awayfirmly and the last glimpse they had of her sad sweet young face was aglimpse of a brave little smile trying to break through its gray gloom.But alone in her cell, seated upon the board that was her bed, herdisgrace and loneliness and danger took possession of her. She was achild of the people, brought up to courage and self-reliance. Shecould be brave and calm before false accusers, before staring crowds.But here, with a dim gas-jet revealing the horror of grated bars andiron ceiling, walls and floor--
She sat there, hour after hour, sleepless, tearless, her brain burning,the cries of drunken prisoners in adjoining cells sounding in her earslike the shrieks of the damned. Seconds seemed moments, momentshours. "I'm dreaming," she said aloud at last. She started up andhurled herself against the bars, beating them with her hands. "I mustwake or I'll die. Oh, the disgrace! Oh! the shame!"
And she flung herself into a corner of the bench, to dread the timewhen the darkness and the loneliness would cease to hide her.
XII
EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN
The matron brought her up into the front room of the station house ateight in the morning. Casey looked at her haggard face with anexpression of satisfaction. "Her nerve's going," he said to thesergeant. "I guess she'll break down and confess to-day."
They drove her to court in a Black Maria, packed among thieves,drunkards and disorderly characters. Upon her right side pressed aslant-faced youth with a huge nose and wafer-thin, flapping ears, whohad snatched a purse in Houston Street. On her left, lolling againsther, was an old woman in dirty calico, with a faded black bonnetludicrously awry upon scant white hair--a drunkard released from theIsland three days before and certain to be back there by noon.
"So you killed him," the old woman said to her with a leer of sympathyand admiration.
At this the other prisoners regarded her with curiosity and deference.Hilda made no answer, seemed not to have heard. Her eyes were closedand her face was rigid and gray as stone.
"She needn't be afraid at all," declared a young woman in black satin,addressing the company at large. "No jury'd ever convict asgood-looking a girl as her."
"Good business!" continued the old woman. "I'd 'a' killed mine if Icould 'a' got at him--forty years ago." She nodded vigorously andcackled. Her cackle rose into a laugh, the laugh into a maudlin howl,the howl changing into a kind of song--
"My love, my love, my love and I--we had to part, to part! And it broke, it broke, it broke my heart --it broke my heart!"
"Cork up in there!" shouted the policeman from the seat beside thedriver.
The old woman became abruptly silent. Hilda moaned and quivered. Herlips moved. She was murmuring, "I can't stand it much longer--I can't.I'll wake soon and see Aunt Greta's picture looking down at me from thewall and hear mother in the kitchen--"
"Step lively now!" They were at the Essex Market police court; theywere filing into the waiting-pen. A lawyer, engaged by her father,came there, and Hilda was sent with him into a little consultationroom. He argued with her in vain. "I'll speak for myself," she said."If I had a lawyer they'd think I was guilty."
After an hour the petty offenders had been heard and judged. A courtofficer came to the door and called: "Hilda Brauner!"
Hilda rose. She seemed unconcerned, so calm was she. Her nerves hadreached the point at which nerves refuse to writhe, or even to recordsensations of pain. As she came into the dingy, stuffy littlecourtroom she didn't note the throng which filled it to the lastcrowded inch of standing-room; did not note the scores of sympatheticfaces of her anxious, loyal friends and neighbors; did not even see herfather and Otto standing inside the railing, faith and courage in theireyes as they saw her advancing.
The magistrate studied her over the tops of his glasses, and his lookbecame more and more gentle and kindly. "Come up here on the platformin front of me," he said.
Hilda took her stand with only the high desk between him and her. Themagistrate's tone and his kind, honest, old face reassured her. Andjust then she felt a pressure at her elbow and heard in Otto's voice:"We're all here. Don't be afraid."
"Have you counsel--a lawyer?" asked the magistrate.
"No," replied Hilda. "I haven't done anything wrong. I don't need alawyer."
The magistrate's eyes twinkled, but he sobered instantly to say, "Iwarn you that the case against you looks grave. You had better havelegal help."
Hilda looked at him bravely. "I've only the truth to tell," sheinsisted. "I don't want a lawyer."
"We'll see," said the magistrate, giving her an encouraging smile. "Ifit is as you say, you certainly won't need counsel. Your rights aresecure here." He looked at Captain Hanlon, who was also on theplatform. "Captain," said he, "your first witness--the man who foundthe body."
"Meinert," said the captain in a low tone to a court officer, whocalled loudly, "Meinert! Meinert!"
A man stood up in the crowd. "You don't want me!" he shouted, as if hewere trying to make himself heard through a great distance instead of afew feet.
"You want--"
"Come forward!" commanded the magistrate sharply, and when Meinertstood before him and beside Hilda and had been sworn, he said, "Now,tell your story."
"The man--Feuerstein," began Meinert, "came into my place abouthalf-past one yesterday. He looked a little wild--as if he'd beendrinking or was in trouble. He went back into the sitting-room and Isent in to him and--"
"Did you go in?"
"No, your Honor."
"When did you see him again?"
"Not till the police came."
"Stand down. I want evidence, not gossip. Captain Hanlon, who foundthe body? Do you know?"
"Your Honor, I understood that Mr. Meinert found it."
The magistrate frowned at him. Then he said, raising his voice, "DoesANY ONE know who found the body?"
"My man Wielert did," spoke up Meinert.
A bleached German boy with a cowlick in the center of his head justabove his forehead came up beside Hilda and was sworn.
"You found the body?"
"Yes," said Wielert. He was blinking stupidly and his throat wasexpanding and contracting with fright.
"Tell us all you saw and heard and did."
"I take him the brandy in. And he sit and talk to himself. And he askfor paper and ink. And then he write and look round like crazy. Andhe make luny talk I don't understand. And he speak what he write--"
Captain Hanlon was red and was looking at Wielert in blank amazement.
"What did he write?" asked the magistrate.
"A letter," answered Wielert. "He put it in a envelope with a stamp onit and he write on the back and make it all ready. And then I watchhim, and he take out a knife and feel it and speak with it. And I goin and ask him for money."
"Your Honor, this witness told us nothing of that before," interruptedHanlon. "I understood that the knife--"
"Did you question him?" asked the magistrate.
"No," replied the captain humbly. And Casey and O'Rourke shook theirbig, hard-looking heads to indicate that they had not questioned him.
"I am curious to know what you HAVE done in this case," said themagistrate sternly. "It is a serious matter to take a young girl likethis into custody. You police seem unable to learn that you are notthe rulers, but the servants of the people."
"Your Honor--" began Hanlon.
"Silence!" interrupted the magistrate, rapping on the desk with hisgavel. "Proceed, Wielert. What kind of knife was it?"
"The knife in his throat afterward," answered Wielert. "And I hear asound like steam out a pipe--and I go in and see a lady at the streetdoor. She peep through the crack and her face all yellow and her eyebig. And she go away."
Hilda was looking at him calmly. She was the only person in the roomwho was not intensely agitated. All eyes were upon her. There wasabsolute silence.
"Is that lady here?" asked the magistrate. His voice seemed loud andstrained.
"Yes," said Wielert. "I see her."
Otto instinctively put his arm about Hilda. Her father was like a leafin the wind.
Wielert looked at Hilda earnestly, then let his glance wander over thestill courtroom. He was most deliberate. At last he said, "I see heragain."
"Point her out," said the magistrate--it was evidently with an effortthat he broke that straining silence.
"That lady there." Wielert pointed at a woman sitting just outside theinclosure, with her face half-hid by her hand.
A sigh of relief swelled from the crowd. Paul Brauner sobbed.
"Why, she's our witness!" exclaimed Hanlon, forgetting himself.
The magistrate rapped sharply, and, looking toward the woman, said,"Stand up, Madam. Officer, assist her!"
The court officer lifted her to her feet. Her hand dropped andrevealed the drawn, twitching face of Sophie Liebers.
"Your Honor," said Hanlon hurriedly, "that is the woman upon whosestatement we made our case. She told us she saw Hilda Brauner comingfrom the family entrance just before the alarm was given."
"Are you sure she's the woman you saw?" said the magistrate to Wielert."Be careful what you say."
"That's her," answered Wielert. "I see her often. She live across thestreet from Meinert's."
"Officer, bring the woman forward," commanded the magistrate.
Sophie, blue with terror, was almost dragged to the platform besideHilda. Hilda looked stunned, dazed.
"Speak out!" ordered the magistrate.
"You have heard what this witness testified."
Sophie was weeping violently. "It's all a mistake," she cried in alow, choked voice. "I was scared. I didn't mean to tell the policeHilda was there. I was afraid they'd think I did it if I didn't saysomething."
"Tell us what you saw." The magistrate's voice was severe. "We wantthe whole truth."
"I was at our window. And I saw Hilda come along and go in at thefamily entrance over at Meinert's. And I'd seen Mr. Feuerstein go inthe front door about an hour before. Hilda came out and went away.She looked so queer that I wanted to see. I ran across the street andlooked in. Mr. Feuerstein was sitting there with a knife in his hand.And all at once he stood up and stabbed himself in the neck--and therewas blood--and he fell--and--I ran away."
"And did the police come to you and threaten you?" asked the magistrate.
"Your Honor," protested Captain Hanlon with an injured air, "SHE cameto US."
"Is that true?" asked the magistrate of Sophie.
Sophie wept loudly. "Your Honor," Hanlon went on, "she came to me andsaid it was her duty to tell me, though it involved her friend. Shesaid positively that this girl went in, stayed several minutes, thencame out looking very strange, and that immediately afterward there wasthe excitement. Of course, we believed her."
"Of course," echoed the magistrate ironically. "It gave you anopportunity for an act of oppression."
"I didn't mean to get Hilda into trouble. I swear I didn't," Sophieexclaimed. "I was scared. I didn't know what I was doing. I swear Ididn't!"
Hilda's look was pity, not anger. "Oh, Sophie," she said brokenly.
"What did your men do with the letter Feuerstein wrote?" asked themagistrate of Hanlon suspiciously.
"Your Honor, we--" Hanlon looked round nervously.
Wielert, who had been gradually rising in his own estimation, as herealized the importance of his part in the proceedings, now pushedforward, his face flushed with triumph. "I know where it is," he saideagerly. "When I ran for the police I mail it."
There was a tumult of hysterical laughter, everybody seeking relieffrom the strain of what had gone before. The magistrate rapped downthe noise and called for Doctor Wharton. While he was giving histechnical explanation a note was handed up to the bench. Themagistrate read:
GERMAN THEATER, 3 September.
YOUR HONOR--I hasten to send you the inclosed letter which I found inmy mail this morning. It seems to have an important bearing on thehearing in the Feuerstein case, which I see by the papers comes upbefore you to-day.
Very trul
y yours, WILLIAM KONIGSMARCK, Manager.
The magistrate handed the inclosure to a clerk, who was a German. "Readit aloud," he said. And the clerk, after a few moments' preparation,slowly read in English:
To the Public:
Before oblivion swallows me--one second, I beg!
I have sinned, but I have expiated. I have lived bravely, fightingadversity and the malice which my superior gifts from nature provoked.I can live no longer with dignity. So, proud and fearless to the last,I accept defeat and pass out.
I forgive my friends. I forget my enemies.
Exit Carl Feuerstein, soldier of fortune, man of the world. Asensitive heart that was crushed by the cruelty of men and the kindnessof women has ceased to beat.
CARL FEUERSTEIN.
P. S. DEAR. MR. KONIGSMARCK--Please send a copy of the above to thenewspapers, English as well as German. C. F.
The magistrate beamed his kindliest upon Hilda. "The charge againstyou is absurd. Your arrest was a crime. You are free."
Hilda put her hand on Otto's arm. "Let us go," she murmured wearily.
As they went up the aisle hand in hand the crowd stood and cheeredagain and again; the magistrate did not touch his gavel--he was noddingvigorous approval. Hilda held Otto's hand more closely and looked allround. And her face was bright indeed.
Thus the shadow of Mr. Feuerstein--of vanity and false emotion, of poseand pretense, passed from her life. Straight and serene before her laythe pathway of "work and love and home."
The Fortune Hunter Page 11
