The accomplice

Front matter

LIBRARIES of the UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO

by

Simon Stern

II E had no sooner resumed our seats than Ferris

V V Barstow rose and began to address the Court. Much of what he said was unintelligible to a layman, but I gathered, in a general way, that he was demanding the discharge of his client upon various technical grounds. He presented his points with the same nervous aggression which had affected me unfavorably from the start, but coarse, ill-mannered, and pugnacious as he was, he impressed me as being terribly in earnest. Certainly there was strength and virility in his every movement, and his broad shoulders imparted a comforting sense of security, even though one knew the coming conflict would not call for force. His massive head and piercingly bright eyes, however, indicated mental qualities of a high order, and his thick, muscular neck and heavy, undershot jaw guaranteed an untiring insistence on all his client's rights. Obviously the man was without personal vanity, for his red beard and mustache, which might have humanized his ugly features, were closecropped, giving him a hairy and unnecessarily brutal appearance. Had Deake Gilbert and he changed places each would have more nearly conformed to my preconceived notions of professional types. The one had all the cold solemnity, the intimidating menace, the unsympathetic savagery of a prosecuting official as I had imagined him, while the other, if not the ideal advocate, was at least distinctly human and companionable.

As I studied the two men, however, I felt thankful they could not change places, for I was convinced that the prisoner would have a better chance with Gilbert against her than with Barstow in the prosecutor's role, and I was already strongly prejudiced in favor of the accused. Indeed, it was almost impossible to associate the idea of murder with the delicate, refined little woman who sat quietly watching the jury without a sign of fear. She was not beautiful— not even handsome — decidedly not pretty. But the calm dignity of her bearing, the thoughtful expression of her dark eyes — the simple serenity of her whole being gave her a grace and charm far more satisfying than mere beauty. The time was not distant when I was to question the meaning of her placidity — ^to doubt its naturalness — to suspect more than a masked expression in her face. But even with her counsel standing before me and addressing the Court I could not at first bring myself to believe she was on trial for her life, and when this fact was forced upon me I took refuge in the possibility of her being the victim of some terrible misunderstanding or blunder which would be discovered and rectified before it was too late. Finally I persuaded myself that Barstow's initial move would serve to procure his client's immediate discharge and end the ugly nightmare threatening my peace of mind.

"May it please the Court: Gentlemen of the Jury."

The sound of Gilbert's voice startled me to the reality of my surroundings, which I must have lost in my study of the defendant's face. Then with a sinking heart I realized that Barstow's preliminary plea had failed and that the actual trial was about to open.

I shall never forget my sensations at this crisis, but I was to experience many moments far more distressing before I was much older.

Ill

THE prosecutor leaned against the back of his chair and silently studied the jury for some moments after his opening words, and, although I was not the only person who shifted nervously in his seat during the solemn pause, I felt that I alone disturbed the quiet of the Court.

In following this case, gentlemen," he began again, speaking slowly and impressively, "I think it will aid you, and I know it will help me, if you will strive to remember who and what I represent. I am the public prosecutor of this county — not a lawyer with a case to be won or lost. It is my province to seek out the facts surrounding the commission of any crime and to present them to a body of men known as the Grand Jury, and to receive from it instruction as to what person or persons should be tried for the offence. Now murder has been done in our community — the surrounding circumstances have been laid before the Grand Jury and it has ordered me to place upon trial the prisoner at the bar. But although I am firmly convinced that this indictment was justified, and that the guilty party is now before the Court, I want you to understand at the outset that you are

lO the sole judges of the facts, and that I am here in the pubHc interest — in your interest — ^in the interest of all law-abiding citizens, to present those facts in an orderly manner, and as fairly and fully as the ends of justice demand. In other words, I am for no one but the public, and against no one but the criminal, and you are to decide the guilt or innocence of the accused.

"Early in the morning of November 3, 1892, one Gregory Shaw, a well-known resident of the village of Pollicet, in this county, was found dead in the private study of his dwelling. The body was discovered by a servant named Field, who detected the odor of gas escaping from her employer's study, and, finding the door locked, summoned other members of the household to her assistance and forced an entrance to the room. Mr. Shaw was found lying face downward on the floor near his desk, and, as all the gas-jets were turned on and a deadly atmosphere filled the room, there was little question at the moment as to the cause of his demise. A hasty examination of the premises disclosed a heavy rug stuffed up the fireplace chimney, wet blotting-paper in the key-hole, and damp newspapers in the crevices of every door and window. In fact, there were all the indications of a deliberately planned suicide, and the Coroner, convinced that Mr. Shaw had taken his own life, gave permission for the removal of the body without holding an autopsy. Had it not been for the presence of Dr. Walter MacLean, a friend and 2 II neighbor of the deceased, it is highly probable that no investigation worthy the name would ever have been held, and the most singular crime which has ever come under my official notice would thus have escaped detection. But Dr. MacLean examined Mr. Shaw's body immediately after it was moved, and at once discovered that his friend had been stabbed through the right eye by a slender weapon which had penetrated the brain in such a manner as to cause instant death without visible effusion of blood.

"The police authorities were immediately notified, and a minute inquiry was begun into all the circumstances surrounding this mysterious tragedy. In the first place, it was demonstrated that the evidences of suicide might easily have been concocted by the murderer, who might have made his escape by the window, bolting it from the outside by removing one of the upper panes of glass and replacing it after his work was accomplished. Acting on this theory, the authorities began their investigations, which were attended by the best possible results. The window of Mr. Shaw's study opened upon the sloping roof of a veranda, and upon this was found a small pool of candle-grease, and a single drop of the same substance was detected on one of the upper window-panes. Careful work then revealed that the old, hardened putty of this pane had been removed and replaced by sticking it together with library paste. All this showed the same cool deliberation and forethought which had characterized the suicide ruse.

"But, gentlemen, most criminals, even the coolest and cleverest, make at least one mistake, and this particular criminal made no less than two.

"The first error consisted in leaving the drippings of candle-grease on the veranda roof, and the second was in kneeling on those drippings before they were quite dry. As though it had been a hand gripping the skirt of the criminal, that wax held in its clutch half a dozen threads of a hairy cloth, blue in color, and of a texture known to the clothing trade as dress goods. When you have found the wearer of the cloth from which those threads were torn, gentlemen, you will have found the murderer of Mr. Gregory Shaw."

Gilbert paused, and every man in the jury-box stole a glance at the prisoner, only to find his vision obstructed by Barstow's broad shoulders as the lawyer leaned towards his client in whispered consultation.

"Having demonstrated that some one had tampered with the window-pane," Gilbert continued, slowly, "the police bent all their efforts upon discovering how this person had effected an escape. The veranda roof was not far above the ground, but there was no sign of any one having jumped or climbed from it, nor were there any footprints in the flower-beds, which were soft from recent rains. Plainly, then, the person who had turned glazier at Mr. Shaw's window had not escaped by way of the veranda roof. It was obvious, also, that no exit could have been effected through the study door, which was bolted from the inside, and it was physically impossible for any one to reach the roof except with the aid of a ladder, as you will presently see for yourselves. In fact, there was only one feasible avenue of escape, and that was another window next to Mr. Shaw's study, which also opened on the veranda roof and led into a bedroom situated at the head of the main stairway. That bedroom was occupied by Miss Alice Emory, Mr. Shaw's private secretary and confidential clerk. In fact, gentlemen, every window of this mystery into which you peer, every door you force, every curtain you tear aside will disclose Alice Emory, the prisoner at the bar."

Again the prosecutor paused, and the relaxing rustle and stir indicated the nervous tension of the audience.

"Very little was known to the outside world about Mr. Gregory Shaw prior to his death," Gilbert went on. ''Beyond the fact that he was a bachelor about forty-five years of age, active in mind and body, and unusually successful in business, having extensive interests in New York and other large cities, his neighbors in the country knew practically nothing. His farm at Pollicet was apparently a fad, conducted upon business principles. The household consisted of three women servants (including the waitress, Betty Field) , the housekeeper, Miss Madeleine Mapes — and I ask you to remember her name, for you will hear of her again — and the private secretary, Alice Emory. Besides these there were in the farm buildings and stables, at some distance from the house, five men and two women. With these meagre facts to guide them, the police started upon their investigations, and little by little unearthed a state of affairs which was undreamed of by the dead man's neighbors, and a shock to the few who claimed to be among his closest friends.

" In the first place, a will found in Mr. Shaw's desk indicated that he was not a bachelor, as every one had supposed. This instrument had apparently been executed a short time prior to his death, and by it he bequeathed his entire estate to his wife Alice. Up to date, however, no record of Mr. Shaw's marriage has been obtained, and no person of the name 'Alice' has yet appeared to claim possession of his estate."

The calm tone in which this statement was uttered did not lessen its significance, but the speaker paused and silently studied the jurors' faces for some moments before he again proceeded.

"But, gentlemen," he resumed, at last, "not only was Mr. Shaw's wife missing, but his supposedly large fortune had likewise disappeared. An examination of his business affairs revealed the astounding fact that, although his credit was unquestioned and his transactions apparently sound, all his discoverable assets, including his Pollicet farm, would no more than suffice to discharge his very moderate liabilities. To say that this revelation amazed his business acquaintances is to state the matter very mildly. They were fairly incredulous. Almost every one in touch with his affairs believed him a millionaire at the very least, and his manner of living certainly indicated wide resources and a handsome income. There was only one person to whom the news did not come in the nature of a shock, and that was his secretary, Miss Alice Emory. She received the news of his finances as calmly as — ^well, as calmly as she had received the tidings of his death, and nothing could exceed her self-control at the moment of that announcement. Another discovery in this case was calculated to surprise her, however, but whether it did or not no one but she and her lawyer knows, because she has, under the advice of counsel, declined to answer questions which might tend to incriminate her. In a word, gentlemen, it was speedily demonstrated that the will in favor of the unknown 'Alice' was a clumsy piece of forgery."

Perhaps I was the only person in the room to whom this statement was an utter surprise, but I saw more than one frightened face in the audience as Gilbert paused.

"At this point, gentlemen of the jury,'* he proceeded, "there were further investigations to discover what had become of Mr. Shaw's reputed fortune, and when the search was about to be abandoned certain clews led to the discovery of nearly a million dollars in first-class railroad and other bonds deposited with a trust company in Venezuela. These securities the police believe to be the property of the late Mr.

i6

Gregory Shaw, and the basis for this beUef is the fact that the safe-deposit vault where they were secreted was held in the name of Alice Emory, his private secretary and confidante.

"But, strange as these facts are, gentlemen," continued the prosecutor, in even tones, ''they are not inexplicable. To reach the explanation, however, I must tax your credulity still further. I dislike to speak ill of the dead, but I am compelled to state that Mr. Gregory Shaw had not always been the successful and respected business man and estimable neighbor Pollicet had known and honored. He had once been without money, but not without price. The crime which we are now investigating has brought to light another crime in which the foundation of his fortune was laid, and which, though undetected for many years, still shadowed his whole career, and finally resulted in his tragic death. It is not necessary at the present moment for us to go into the details of his wrong-doing, which the testimony will fully disclose. Suffice it to state that his crime was known to at least one other person besides the perpetrator, and that person is the defendant in this case.

"Now, gentlemen, this is the crux of the whole matter, for it? is the theory of the prosecution — and I shall not claim it to be more than a theory until I substantiate it by proof — the theory of the prosecution, I say, is that Alice Emory desired to become Mrs. Gregory Shaw — that she threatened her employer with exposure unless he made her his wife, and threatened so effectively that he turned all his property into negotiable securities and prepared for immediate flight — that such was the pressure brought upon him that he contemplated suicide, and, thinking he might take his life, the secretary forged a will in her own favor, intending to pose as his widow, and she murdered him when he discovered this document and threatened exposure for exposure. But you will naturally ask why Gregory Shaw did not accede to the woman's demands and marry her. Had he done so his secret would have been safe, for the law does not look favorably upon a wife who volunteers testimony against her husband. There must have been some strong reason for his resistance, and I think I can show you what it was when we come to investigate the life and letters of the prisoner at the bar.

**But, your Honor" — here Gilbert turned on his heel and addressed Judge Dudley — "before we proceed further in this case I desire the jurors to view the scene of the tragedy, and see for themselves the possibilities of entrance and escape and familiarize themselves with other essential details which are difficult to explain. I therefore move for an immediate inspection of the Shaw residence under such guidance and instruction as the Court may deem proper."

Ferris Barstow had risen when the prosecutor turned to the Bench, and the moment he caught the Judge's eye his harsh voice boomed out in protest.

"I object to any such inspection!" he began, with

i8 his customary aggression. "The sole object of this proposed junketing-trip is to give spectacular effect to a trial already sufficiently advertised. It can serve no good or useful purpose. We neither ask nor expect quarter because this defendant is a woman, but I submit that no prisoner on trial for life should be subjected to unnecessary strain. Your Honor knows what these inspections involve. In nine cases out of ten they are not inspections of the premises, but inspections of the prisoner — tests to see whether or not he will blanch at the sight of the fatal spot. Such manoeuvres belong to the days when prisoners were forced to touch the corpse and were judged guilty if its wounds bled. I protest against such barbaric tactics, and I trust this Court will not countenance them without grave and cogent reasons."

Barstow glanced defiantly at the prosecutor as he paused, but Gilbert did not respond to the challenge. Indeed, he seemed unconscious of his opponent as he stood quietly awaiting the decision from the Bench.

"Have you no plans or photographs of the premises, Mr. Gilbert?" inquired the Judge, after a pause.

"We have both, your Honor; but much time and trouble will be saved if the jurors can see the house itself. Moreover, the accuracy of our plans and photographs may be disputed."

"Their accuracy will be admitted without question," interposed Barstow. "Sight unseen!"

The Judge glanced inquiringly at the prosecutor.

"Does that satisfy you, Mr. Gilbert?" he asked.

"It is good as far as it goes, sir, but it does not eliminate the difficulty of explanation," Gilbert responded. "If my opponent fears the effect of the proposed visit upon his client's nerves, I suggest that he waive her right to be present at the inspection, and allow us to look over the ground without her."

"Any suggestion from the prosecutor that I waive my client's rights speaks for itself, and is its own answer!" retorted Barstow.

Every note of the man's voice was provocative of wrath, but Gilbert displayed no resentment at his ugly show of teeth.

** I will deny your motion for the present, Mr. Gilbert," the Judge decided, after a pause. "You may renew it later if you choose."

The prosecutor bowed gravely and was about to resume his address, when Barstow laid a hand upon his arm.

"One moment, if you please," he interposed, at the same time turning to the Court. "Your Honor, this is Friday, and it is now nearly six o'clock. In view of the long trial before us, I suggest that the jurors be discharged until Monday."

"Does the prosecution agree?" inquired the Court.

Gilbert glanced at his watch.

"I have no objection," he responded, "provided the jurors be instructed to return on Monday prepared to stay here until the trial ends."

" I will consent that the jurors be given their entire liberty," interposed Barstow as the Judge paused, " if the prosecutor will agree."

"I would like to be equally accommodating," Gilbert answered, with a smile, ''but I submit it is not practical for these gentlemen to come and go as they please. This trial will be endless if we have to wait each morning for their appearance. They are from widely scattered parts of the county. Some of them are farmers, some are business men, and — "

"They'll all be lawyers before this trial is ended," interrupted Barstow.

"But they'll be too old to practise before that day arrives if we act on your suggestion," retorted Gilbert.

"The jurors will return here on Monday morning, prepared to stay at the Melton House during the trial of this case," Judge Dudley interposed, decisively. "In the mean time, gentlemen," he continued, "you may retire to your homes and make such preparations as may be appropriate. I warn you, however, not to discuss the case or to listen to others discussing it. Keep yourselves free from influence, prejudice, or impression, and form no opinion favorable or unfavorable from anything you have heard. In other words, dismiss the subject from your minds until you reassemble."

IV

DISMISS the subject from our minds! I don't know what my associates thought of the Judge's admonition, but I resented it as nothing less than an insult to my intelligence. Certainly no human being with a mind of his own could listen to the story we had heard and think no more about it until it pleased the Court. Even if it had come to me in the form of fiction, I could not have dismissed it without at least a mild conjecture. But to instruct twelve men charged with a life-and-death responsibility to give no second thought to the vital, htiman issue they were facing struck me as preposterous — impertinently preposterous.

My new official duties weighed heavily upon me, and I was indignant that any one should take them less seriously. I could not even join in the grumbling of my fellow- jurors at our prospective detention, for it seemed petty to dwell on my personal inconvenience in the face of a civic duty far more important; and, finding myself out of all sympathy with my associates, I walked from the court-room feeling as though the whole burden of this awful business rested on my shoulders alone.

I had left my horse and trap at the Melton House stables, and, although it was already late, and I had at least ten miles to travel, I determined to start home at once, knowing that my faithful housekeeper, well used to my bachelor irregularity, would keep dinner waiting for me, no matter how late I might arrive.

But had I not already determined to leave at the earliest possible moment, the conversation at the hotel would have hastened my departure, for the Emory case was being debated with great energy, and, to avoid being drawn into the discussions, I was obliged to take refuge on the piazza. But even there the topic pursued me, and it was with no small relief that I at last jumped into my trap and set off at a brisk pace on my homeward journey. But as I travelled along the lonely country road my mind was constantly occupied with the forbidden subject, and unconsciously I allowed my horse to settle into a jog-trot as I thought over the story I had heard from Deake Gilbert's lips.

My first impressions of the prosecutor had not survived his opening speech. He no longer appealed to me as a flippant or irresponsible trifler, but rather as a man sure of himself and his duty and entirely conscientious. His statement of facts had been presented in a quiet, conversational tone, without formality, but with unmistakable earnestness. During its entire delivery his attitude had been that of an impartial investigator bent upon making an accurate report. Not a word of denunciation had passed his Hps, and scarcely more than a suggestion of accusation, and yet the defendant seemed irretrievably incriminated. Had he attacked her and inveighed against her crime, I should have felt more comfortable. But his quiet, colorless relation of the facts made them speak for themselves, and their meaning was unmistakable. Even what he had left unsaid was hauntingly suggestive. Would he tell us at the next session that the threads which had been found clinging to the candle-grease matched the cloth of one of Alice Emory's skirts? He had not asserted this, but I did not doubt that he had such proof in his possession. Again, why had the victim refused to consider marriage with his secretary — even at the risk of ruin and disgrace? I could find no clew to this question. But assuming the gravest of answers, why should Shaw place his ill-gotten property in the name of the woman he had every reason to fear ? If money had been her object, why had she not been satisfied with the possession of his wealth? Why had she been tempted to forgery or murder ? When Gilbert had told of the property discovered in her name, I felt he had made a strong point for the prosecution; but, as I pondered over it, the fact seemed in her favor. Perhaps other points more closely examined would prove even more favorable.

Encouraged by this prospect, I clucked cheerily to my shambling horse, and as he started forward I noticed that I no longer had the road to myself, for in the distance another horse was plainly visible on the crest of a little hill. In the gathering dusk I could not at once determine in what direction it was moving, but on drawing nearer I discovered that it was being led towards me, and that the holder of the bridle-rein was a woman. The animal bore a man's saddle, but there was no one but the woman in sight, and, fearing there had been an accident, I drew rein as we met.

"Pardon me, madam," I began, raising my hat, but paused as the sound of laughter reached my ears.

"I wonder what makes you think so?" asked a pleasant voice.

I gazed at the smiling face upturned to mine and, puzzled for an answer, hazarded a question.

"What makes me think what?" I queried.

"That I have arrived at the dignity of 'madam.' "

"I do not think you have, miss," I answered, dryly.

The girl laughed good-naturedly.

"I stand reproved," she answered, patting the horse's head. "And, incidentally, I grant the pardon you began by asking — ^presumably for addressing me at all," she added, with a note of dignity, as she moved on again.

"I merely stopped to inquire if I could be of any assistance to you — or your companion," I added, glancing up and down the road.

"Or my companion?" she repeated, wonderingly, 25 and then broke into a little laugh. "Oh, Dolly is all right," she continued, playfully shaking the bridle-rein. ''It's the saddle-girth which wants assistance. You don't happen to have an extra long strap in your wagon, do you?"

"What's the matter with the girth?" I inquired, twisting the reins about my whip and jumping to the ground.

"The binding of the buckle has come unsewed," she explained. "It hasn't actually broken, but I can't make it safe,, and I've been fussing with it for hours. I could have carried the saddle on my lap if Dolly would have let me mount, but the wretch wouldn't stand still, and I've been waltzing with her until I'm fairly dizzy. Now, if you will give me a leg up — " she continued, unfastening the girth.

I fairly gasped at the expression, but she did not notice my confusion.

"I thought — " I began, and paused, awkwardly.

She turned to me — her head still under the uplifted saddle-flap — and at sight of my face laid her cheek against the horse's flank and laughed with keen enjoyment.

"I see! You didn't understand the saddle," she exclaimed. "Divided skirts are cleverly made nowadays, aren't they?" She touched her brown ridingskirt with her hunting-crop as she spoke. "You're not shocked, are you?" she continued.

I tried to shake my head convincingly.

"I can't imagine why any one should be," she went on, calmly; ''but I've met plenty of country people who wouldn't think of docking a horse's tail and yet are simply scandalized at the notion of a woman's properly adjusting her weight to his back."

"It is merely a question of custom," I replied.

"Of habit, you mean," she interrupted, smilingly. "Now, if you will lay this saddle on the grass for a moment," she continued, "and hand it to me after I am up — "

"If you will permit me to offer you a seat in my trap," I suggested, "you could lead Dolly and let her carry her own saddle. It's safe enough for that."

"I don't want to take you out of your way," she answered, hesitatingly.

"Perhaps you won't," I replied. "Where are you going?"

"Home," she answered. "To PoUicet, I mean," she added, smilingly.

"To Pollicet!" I exclaimed.

"Yes. Is there anything surprising in that?"

"No-o," I answered slowly, "but — "

"I see," she interrupted. "You associate Pollicet with the Shaw murder, and look upon all the inhabitants as implicated."

"Not at all," r protested, lamely; "but — "

"I assure you we know less about it than most people," she went on. "Although we're not stupid enough to think Alice Emory killed the man. That's criminal ignorance."

3 27

"If you will accept my suggestion I will buckle these reins together for a leading-strap," I interposed, somewhat hurriedly. "Or if you will do it while I put the saddle on again it will save time," I continued. "Is Pollicet far from here?"

"Not three miles," she answered. "We're on the direct road now. Didn't you know it?"

"No," I admitted. "I must have taken the wrong turning for Hefryville."