Sons and Fathers

"You are right," said the former. "Let the arrest be made." Barksdale took his departure.

The butler appeared and was summarily discharged for having abandoned Virdow during the night.

And then came the deputy, a quiet, confident man of few words, who served the warrant upon Edward, and then, proceeding with his prisoner to the smoke-house, put shackles upon Slippery Dick, and supplemented them with handcuffs.

CHAPTER XLIX

PREPARING THE MINE

This time the coroner was summoned. He came, examined the body of Gerald, heard Virdow's statement and concluded that he could not hold an inquest without subjecting himself to unpleasant criticism and giving candidates for his office something to take hold of.

The funeral was very quiet. Col. Montjoy, Mrs. Montjoy and Mary came in the old family carriage and the general on horseback.

The little group stood around the open coffin and gazed for the last time upon the pale, chaste face. The general could not endure more than the one glance. As it lay exposed to him, it was the perfect image of a face that had never dimmed in his memory. Mary's tears fell silently as she laid her little cross of white autumn rosebuds upon the silent breast and turned away. Edward was waiting for her; she took his arm and went upon the portico.

"It is a sad blow to you, Mr. Morgan," she said.

"It removes the only claim upon me," was his answer. "When all is over and this trial ended, I shall very likely return to Europe for good!" They were silent for a while. "I came here full of hope," he continued; "I have met distrust, accusation, assaults upon my character and life, the loss of friends, disappointments and now am accused of murder and must undergo a public trial. It is enough to satisfy most men with – the south."

"And do you count your real friends as nothing?"

"My real friends are few, but they count for much," he said, earnestly; "it will be hard to part with them – with you. But fate has laid an iron hand upon me. I must go." He found her looking at him with something of wonder upon her face.

"You know best," she said, quietly. There was something in her manner that reminded him of the calm dignity of her father.

"You do not understand me," he said, earnestly, "and I cannot explain, and yet I will go this far. My parents have left me a mystery to unfathom; until I have solved it I shall not come back, I cannot come back." He took her hand in both of his. "It is this that restrains me; you have been a true friend; it grieves me that I cannot share my troubles with you and ask your woman's judgment, but I cannot – I cannot! I only ask that you keep me always in your memory, as you will always be the brightest spot in mine." She was now pale and deeply affected by his tone and manner.

"You cannot tell me, Mr. Morgan?"

"Not even you, the woman I love; the only woman I have ever loved. Ah, what have I said?" She had withdrawn her hand and was looking away. "Forgive me; I did not know what I was saying. I, a man under indictment for murder, a possible felon, an unknown!"

The young girl looked at him fearlessly.

"You are right. You can rely upon friendship, but under the circumstances nothing can justify you in speaking of love to a woman – you do not trust."

"Do not trust! You cannot mean that!" She had turned away proudly and would have left him.

"I have seen so little of women," he said. "Let that be my excuse. I would trust you with my life, my honor, my happiness – but I shall not burden you with my troubles. I have everything to offer you but a name. I have feared to tell you; I have looked to see you turn away in suspicion and distrust – in horror. I could not. But anything, even that, is better than reproach and wrong judging.

"I tell you now that I love you as no woman was ever loved before; that I have loved you since you first came into my life, and that though we be parted by half a world of space, and through all eternity, I still shall love you. But I shall never, so help me heaven, ask the woman I love to share an unknown's lot! You have my reasons now; it is because I do love you that I go away." He spoke the words passionately. And then he found her standing close to his side.

"And I," she said, looking up into his face through tearful but smiling eyes, "do not care anything for your name or your doubts, and I tell you, Edward Morgan, that you shall not go away; you shall not leave me." He caught his breath and stood looking into her brave face.

"But your family – it is proud – "

"It will suffer nothing in pride. We will work out this little mystery together." She extended her hand and, taking it, he took her also. She drew back, shaking her head reproachfully.

"I did not mean that."

He was about to reply, but at that moment a scene was presented that filled them both with sudden shame. How true it is that in the midst of life we are in death.

The hearse had passed the gate. Silently they entered the house.

He led her back to the side of the dead man.

"He loved you," he said slowly. "I shall speak the truth for him." Mary bent above the white face and left a kiss upon the cold brow.

"He was your friend," she said, fearing to look into his eye.

He comprehended and was silent.

It was soon over. The ritual for the dead, the slow journey to the city of silence, a few moments about the open grave, the sound of dirt falling upon the coffin, a prayer – and Gerald, living and dead, was no longer a part of their lives.

The Montjoys were to go home from the cemetery. Edward said farewell to them separately and to Mary last. Strange paradox, this human life. He came from that new-made grave almost happy.

The time for action was approaching rapidly. He went with Dabney and the general to see Slippery Dick for the last time before the trial. There was now but one serious doubt that suggested itself. They took the man at night to the grave of Rita and made him go over every detail of his experience there. Under the influence of the scene he began with the incident of the voodoo's "conjure bag" and in reply to queries showed where it had been inserted in the cedar. Edward took his knife and began to work at the plug, but this action plunged Dick into such terror that Dabney cautioned Edward in a low voice to desist.

"Dick," said the young man finally, with sudden decision, "if you fail us in this matter not only shall I remove that plug but I shall put you in jail and touch you with the bag." Dick was at once voluble with promises. Edward, his memory stirred by the incident, was searching his pockets. He had carried the little charm obtained for him by Mary because of the tender memories of the night before their journey abroad. He drew it out now and held it up. Dick had not forgotten it; he drew back, begging piteously. Dabney was greatly interested.

"That little charm has proved to be your protector, Mr. Morgan," he said aloud for the negro's benefit. "You have not been in any danger. Neither Dick nor anyone else could have harmed you. You should have told me before. See how it has worked. The woman who gave you the bag came to you in the night out on the ocean and showed you the face of this man; you knew him even in the night, although he had never before met you nor you him."

A sound like the hiss of a snake came from the negro; he had never been able to guess why this stranger had known him so quickly. He now gazed upon his captor with mingled fear and awe.

"Befo' Gawd, boss," he said, "I ain't goin' back on you, boss!"

"Going back on him!" said Dabney, laughing. "I should think not. I did not know that Mr. Morgan had you conjured. Let us return; Dick cannot escape that woman in this world or the next. Give me the little bag, Mr. Morgan – no, keep it yourself. As long as you have it you are safe."

Edward was a prisoner, but in name only. Barksdale had not come again, for more reasons than one, the main reason being extra precaution on account of the watchful and suspicious Royson. But he acted quietly upon the public mind. The day following the interview he caused to be inserted in the morning paper an announcement of Edward's return and arrest, and the additional fact that although his business in Paris had not been finished, he had left upon the first steamer sailing from Havre. At the club, he was outspoken in his denunciation of the newspaper attacks and his confidence in the innocence of the man. There was no hint in any quarter that it had been suspected that Rita Morgan was really not murdered. It was generally understood that the defense would rely upon the State's inability to make out a case.

But Edward did not suffer greatly from loneliness. The day after the funeral Mrs. Montjoy and Mary, together with the colonel, paid a formal call and stayed for some hours; and the general came frequently with Dabney and Eldridge, who had also been employed, and consulted over their plans for the defense. Arrangements had been made with the solicitor for a speedy trial and the momentous day dawned.

CHAPTER L

SLIPPERY DICK RIGHTS A WRONG

The prominence of the accused and of his friends, added to the sensational publication, made the case one of immense interest. The court house was crowded to its utmost and room had to be made within the bar for prominent citizens. There was a "color line" feature in the murder, and the gallery was packed with curious black faces. Edward, quiet and self-contained, sat by his lawyers, and near him was the old general and Col. Montjoy. Slightly in the rear was Barksdale, calm and observant. The State had subp[oe]ned Royson as a witness, and, smilingly indifferent, he occupied a seat as a member of the bar, inside the rail. The case was called at last.

"The State versus Edward Morgan, murder. Mr. Solicitor, what do you say for the State?" asked the court.

"Ready."

"What do you say for the defense, gentlemen?"

"Ready."

"Mr. Clerk, call the jury." The panel was called and sworn. The work of striking the jury then proceeded. Eldridge and Dabney were clever practitioners and did not neglect any precaution. The jury list was scanned and undesirable names eliminated with as much care as if the prisoner had small chance of escape.

This proceeding covered an hour, but at last the panel was complete and sworn. The defendant was so little known that this was a simple matter.

The witnesses for the State were then called and sworn. They consisted of the coroner, the physician who had examined the wound, and others, including Gen. Evan, Virdow and Royson. Gen. Evan and Virdow had also been summoned by the defense.

As Royson took the oath it was observed that he was slightly pale and embarrassed, but this was attributed to the fact of his recent conflict and the eager state of the great crowd. No man in the room kept such watch upon him as Barksdale; never once did he take his eyes from the scarred face. Witnesses for the defense were then called – Gen. Evan and Virdow. They had taken the oath. The defense demanded that witnesses for the State be sent out of the room until called. As Royson was rising to comply with the requirement common in such cases, Dabney stood up and said:

"Before Mr. Royson goes out, may it please Your Honor, I would respectfully ask of the solicitor what it is expected to prove by him?"

"We expect to prove, Your Honor, that Mr. Royson wrote a certain letter which charged the prisoner with being a man of mixed blood, and that Rita Morgan, the woman who was killed, was the woman in question and the only authority; an important point in the case. Mr. Royson, I should say, is here by subp[oe]na only and occupying a very delicate situation, since he was afterward, by public report, engaged in a conflict with the prisoner, growing out of the publication of that letter."

"The solicitor is unnecessarily prolix, Your Honor. I asked the question to withdraw our demand in his case as a matter of courtesy to a member of the bar." Royson bowed and resumed his seat.

"I now ask," said Dabney, "a like courtesy in behalf of Gen. Evan and Prof. Virdow, witnesses for both State and defense." This was readily granted.

There was no demurrer to the indictment. The solicitor advanced before the jury and read the document, word for word. "We expect to prove, gentlemen of the jury, that the dead woman, named in this indictment, was for many years housekeeper for the late John Morgan, and more recently for the defendant in this case, Edward Morgan; that she resided upon the premises with him and his cousin, Gerald Morgan; that on a certain night, to wit, the date named in the indictment, she was murdered by being struck in the head with some blunt implement, and that she was discovered almost immediately thereafter by a witness; that there was no one with the deceased at the time of her death but the defendant, Edward Morgan, and that he, only, had a motive for her death – namely, the suppression of certain facts, or certain publicly alleged facts, which she alone possessed; that after her death, which was sudden, he failed to notify the coroner, but permitted the body to be buried without examination. And upon these facts, we say, the defendant is guilty of murder. The coroner will please take the stand."

The officer named appeared and gave in his testimony. He had, some days after the burial of the woman, Rita Morgan, received a hint from an anonymous letter that foul play was suspected in the case, and acting under advice, had caused the body to be disinterred and he had held an inquest upon it, with the result as expressed in the verdict which he proceeded to read and which was then introduced as evidence. The witness was turned over to the defense; they consulted and announced "no questions".

The next witness was the physician who examined the wound. He testified to the presence of a wound in the back of the head that crushed the skull and was sufficient to have caused death. Dabney asked of this witness if there was much of a wound in the scalp, and the reply was "No".

"Was there any blood visible?"

"No." The defense had no other questions for this officer, but announced that they reserved the right to recall him if the case required it.

The next witness was Virdow. He had seen the body after death, but had not examined the back of the head; had seen a small cut upon the temple, which the defendant had explained to him was made by her falling against the glass in the conservatory. There was a pane broken at the point indicated.

And then Evan was put up.

"Gen. Evan," asked the solicitor, "where were you upon the night that Rita Morgan died?"

"At the residence of Edward Morgan, sir."

"Where were you when you first discovered the death of Rita Morgan?"

"Gentlemen of the jury, at the time indicated, I was standing in the glass-room occupied by the late Gerald Morgan, in the residence of the defendant in this county – "

"And state?" interrupted the solicitor.

"And state. I was standing by the bedside of Gerald Morgan, who was ill. I was deeply absorbed in thought and perfectly oblivious to my surroundings, I suppose. I am certain that Edward Morgan was in the room with me. I was aroused by hearing him cry out and then discovered that the door leading into the shrubbery was open. I ran out and found him near the head of the woman."

"Did you notice any cuts or signs of blood?"

"I noticed only a slight cut upon the forehead."

"Did you examine her for other wounds?"

"I did not. I understood then that she had, in a fit of some kind, fallen against the glass, and that seeing her from within, Mr. Morgan had run out and picked her up."

"Did you hear any sound of breaking glass?"

"I think I did. I cannot swear to it; my mind was completely absorbed at that time. There was broken glass at the place pointed out by him."

"That night – pointed out that night?"

"No. I believe some days later."

"Did you hear voices?"

"I heard some one say 'They lied!' and then I heard Edward Morgan cry aloud. Going out I found him by the dead body of the woman."

The defense cross-questioned.

"You do not swear, General Evan, that Mr. Morgan was not in the room at the time the woman Rita was seized with sudden illness?"

"I do not. It was my belief then, and is now – "

"Stop," said the solicitor.

"Confine yourself to facts only," said the court.

"You are well acquainted with Mr. Morgan?"

"As well as possible in the short time I have known him."

"What is his character?"

"He is a gentleman and as brave as any man I ever saw on the field of battle." There was slight applause as the general came down, but it was for the general himself.

"Mr. Royson will please take the stand," said the solicitor. "You were the author of the letter concerning the alleged parentage of Edward Morgan, which was published in an extra in this city a few weeks since?" Royson bowed slightly.

"From whom did you get your information?"

"From Rita Morgan," he said, calmly. There was a breathless silence for a moment and then an angry murmur in the great audience. All eyes were fixed upon Edward, who had grown pale, but he maintained his calmness. The astounding statement had filled him with a sickening horror. Not until that moment did he fully comprehend the extent of the enmity cherished against him by the witness. On the face of Barksdale descended a look as black as night. He did not, however, move a muscle.

"You say that Rita Morgan told you – when?"

"About a week previous to her death. She declared that her own son had secured his rights at last. I had been consulted by her soon after John Morgan's death, looking to the protection of those rights, she being of the opinion that Gerald Morgan would inherit. When it was found that this defendant here had inherited she called, paid my fee and made the statement as given."

"Why did you fight a duel with the defendant, then – knowing, or believing you knew, his base parentage?"

"I was forced to do so by the fact that I was challenged direct and no informant demanded; and by the fact that while my friends were discussing my situation, General Evan, acting under a mistaken idea, vouched for him."

These ingenuous answers took away the general's breath. He had never anticipated such plausible lies. Even Dabney was for the moment bewildered. Edward could scarcely restrain his emotion and horror. As a matter of fact, Rita was not dead when the challenge was accepted. Royson had lied under oath!

"The witness is with you," said the solicitor, with just a tinge of sarcasm in his tones.

"Were the statements of Rita Morgan in writing?" asked Dabney.

"No."

"Then, may it please Your Honor, I move to rule them out." A debate followed. The statements were ruled out. Royson was suffered to descend, subject to recall.

"The State closes," said the prosecuting officer.

Then came the sensation of the day.

The crowd and the bar were wondering what the defense would attempt with no witnesses, when Dabney arose.

"May it please Your Honor, we have now a witness, not here when the case was called, whom we desire to bring in and have sworn. We shall decide about introducing him within a few moments and there is one other witness telegraphed for who has just reached the city. We ask leave to introduce him upon his arrival." And then turning to the sheriff, he whispered direction. The sheriff went to the hall and returned with a negro. Royson was engaged in conversation, leaning over the back of his chair and with his face averted. The witness was sworn and took the stand facing the crowd. A murmur of surprise ran about the room, for there, looking out upon them, was the well-known face of Slippery Dick. The next proceedings were irregular but dramatic. Little Dabney drew himself up to his full height and shouted in a shrill voice:

"Look at that man, gentlemen of the jury." At the same time his finger was pointed at Royson. All eyes were at once fixed upon that individual. His face was as chalk, and the red scar across the nose flamed as so much fiery paint. His eyes were fastened on the witness with such an expression of fear and horror that those near him shuddered and drew back slightly. And as he gazed his left hand fingered at his collar and presently, with sudden haste, tore away the black cravat. Then he made an effort to leave, but Barksdale arose and literally hurled him back in his chair. The court rapped loudly.

"I fine you $50, Mr. Barksdale. Take your seat!"

Dick, unabashed, met that wild, pleading, threatening, futile gaze of Royson, who was now but half-conscious of the proceedings.

"Tell the jury, do you know this man?" shouted the shrill voice again, the finger still pointing to Royson.

"Yes, sah; dat's Mr. Royson."

"Were you ever hired by him?"

"Yes, sah."

"When – the last time?"

"'Bout three weeks ago."

"To do what?"

"Open 'er grave."

"Whose grave?"

"Rita Morgan's."

"And what else?"

There was intense silence; Dick twisted uneasily.

"And what else?" repeated Dabney.

"Knock her in de head."

"Did you do it?"

"Yes, sah."

"Where did you knock her in the head?"

"In de back of de head."

"Hard?"

"Hard enough to break her skull."

"Did you see Mr. Morgan that night?"

"Yes, sah."

"Where?"

"Downtown, jus' fo' I tole Mr. Royson 'all right'."

"Where did you next see him?"

"After he was killed by de lightnin'."

"The witness is with you," said Dabney, the words ringing out in triumph. He faced the solicitor defiantly. His questions had followed each other with astounding rapidity and the effect on every hearer was profound. The solicitor was silent; his eyes were upon Royson. Some one had handed the latter a glass of water, which he was trying to drink.

"I have no questions," said the solicitor gravely.

"You can come down, Dick." The negro stepped down and started out. He passed close to Royson, who was standing in the edge of the middle aisle. Their eyes met. It may have been pure devilishness or simply nervous facial contortion, but at that moment the negro's face took on a grin. Whatever the cause, the effect was fatal to him. The approach of the negro had acted upon the wretched Royson like a maddening stimulant. At the sight of that diabolical countenance, he seized him with his left hand and stabbed him frantically a dozen times before he could be prevented. With a moan of anguish the negro fell dead, bathing the scene in blood.

A great cry went up from the spectators and not until the struggling lawyer and the bloody corpse had been dragged out did the court succeed in enforcing order.

The solicitor went up and whispered to the judge, who nodded immediately, but before he announced that a verdict of acquittal would be allowed, the defendant's attorneys drew him aside, and made an appeal to him to let them proceed, as a mere acquittal was not full justice to the accused.

Then the defense put up the ex-reporter and by him proved the procurement by Royson of the libels and his authorship and gave his connection with the affair from the beginning, which was the reception of an anonymous card informing him that Royson held such information.

Gen. Evan then testified that Rita died while Royson's second was standing at the front door at Ilexhurst, with Royson's note in his pocket.

The jury was briefly charged by the court and without leaving the box returned a verdict of not guilty. The tragedy and dramatic denouement had wrought the audience to the highest pitch of excitement. The revulsion of feeling was indicated by one immense cheer, and Edward found himself surrounded by more friends than he thought he had acquaintances, who shook his hand and congratulated him. Barksdale stalked through the crowd and laid $50 upon the clerk's desk. Smiling up at the court he said:

"Will Your Honor not make it a thousand? It is too cheap!"

But that good-natured dignitary replied:

"The fine is remitted. You couldn't help it."

CHAPTER LI

A WOMAN'S WIT CONQUERS

Cambia was greatly disturbed by the sudden departure of the Montjoys. She shut herself up and refused all visitors. Was the great-hearted yet stern Cambia ill or distressed? The maid did not know.

She had called for the "Figaro," to see the passenger list of the steamer. The names were there; the steamer had sailed. And then as she sat gazing upon the sheet another caught her attention in an adjoining column, "Gaspard Levigne." It was in the body of an advertisement which read: