"Hodgkins Hodgkins," answered the first witness who testified after the noon recess. "When did you first learn that Prof. Arnold had made a will?" asked the district attorney. "On receipt of a letter from my esteemed friend, dated June 15." "What was the reason of Prof. Arnold's informing you of his action?" "A long-standing, I may say a life-long friendship, had induced him to select me as his executor." "When you heard of his death, what action did you take?" "I was in New York at the time on important business, which I proceeded to expedite as far as its weighty nature would permit. Large bodies travel slowly, you know. Then when the transaction was completed to my satisfaction I repaired to the city and visited the home of my departed friend, the testator." "Did you let Floyd know of your coming?" "I apprised him of my intention and instructed him to lock the room in which the document was guarded." "Did you actually call on the afternoon of the fire?" "A short delay, occasioned by my failure to find Mr. Hardwood, the locksmith, who was to assist me in opening the safe, retarded my arrival until 3:45. At that time the paper was beyond my reach." "You could not testify as to the contents of the will?" "Only in a general way." "Do you know any reason why, if the accused were expecting you, as he stated that he was when he ordered the housemaid to dust the room, do you know any reason why he should leave the house suddenly, without any instructions as to your reception?" "That's the best point the prosecution has made!" exclaimed Wye. Ecks was executing a series of caricatures illustrating the involution of Hodgkins' face back into a crab-apple. "You leave out his cunning," suggested Wye, looking over the heads. "Not unless he had lighted this fire," said the senior member solemnly. At which answer Shagarach rose with a shade more promptitude than usual. "Why do you profess to be the executor of Benjamin Arnold's will?" "I am so styled over his own signature," answered Hodgkins, flourishing the professor's letter. "Wasn't it proved in the probate proceedings that you were only to carry out certain minor legacies?" "It is not becoming in me to anticipate the decision of the honorable court in that matter." "As executor, then, did you try to uphold the will of your friend?" "In my opinion as a lawyer, it cannot be upheld." "In my opinion as a lawyer, it can. I ask you a question. Did you make any effort to uphold the will of which you claim to have been nominated executor?" "I satisfied myself that the task was fruitless." "You represented a client desirous of breaking the will at the probate proceedings, did you not?" "The will was already broken, canceled, destroyed." "Do you or do you not perceive a gross indelicacy in your desperate attempt to break the will of which you say you were appointed executor, in order to retrieve the fallen fortunes of the disinherited heir?" "I am not here to discuss my conduct with you, sir," answered Hodgkins testily, for the cross-examiner flusters quickly when he becomes the cross-examined. "When did you arrive in New York?" "Friday evening." "When did you call on the Arnolds?" "On the Arnolds?" repeated Hodgkins, as if he did not understand the question. "On Harry Arnold, I mean?" "Oh, Friday evening." "You went there directly?" "I did." "They were your clients?" "I am Mrs. Arnold's legal adviser." "You told Harry Arnold of your intention to call at his uncle's on the following day and open the safe?" "I believe I announced my intention to approach the affair with expedition." "Did he object or suggest a postponement?" "I cannot remember that he approved or demurred." "Do you mean to testify that you informed Floyd by letter the hour at which you would call?" "I announced my general intention of calling." "In the same letter in which you requested him to lock the study?" "There was only one letter. It was dispatched from New York." "Then how did Floyd learn of your contemplated visit?" "I have understood that he was informed by Mrs. Arnold that afternoon." "From whom did you understand this?" "From Mrs. Arnold herself," said Hodgkins, looking toward that lady. "You told her the hour?" "Half-past two." "And Mrs. Arnold called on Floyd, I believe, at about 2:45?" "I believe so. I am not informed as to the exact minute." "Was she there by appointment with you?" "Not exactly. However, I had informed her of the time." "As you stated before. Then Floyd only knew of your proposed visit at second hand through Mrs. Arnold?" "I had not informed him." "You might have entered and taken the will away without his knowledge, then?" "It might have been done, though I assure you we had no such intention." "When did you arrive at the house?" "At 3:45." "And Floyd had left a little before 3:30. He had waited for one hour, without the courtesy of an appointment from you. Then because he chose to leave the house, and did not wait upon your pleasure, you infer that he must have committed arson and procured the death of seven of his fellow-creatures. That will do." "Charles Checkerberry." A railroad conductor stepped forward to take the oath. "What names!" said Ecks to Wye. "It's like a census of Bedlam Proper." But Wye did not answer. He was wondering if he could weave the safe explosion into the plot of his next melodrama. "You are a conductor on the Southern railroad?" asked the district attorney. "Yes, sir." "What time did your train leave the city on the afternoon of Saturday, June 28?" "The express train left at 3:29." "Did you see the accused riding on that train?" "Yes, sir." "Get a full look at him." "I am positive that is the man. I remember the fact because he had no ticket and had to pay his fare——" "To what point?" "To Woodlawn." "Go on." "He paid his fare and declined to take the coupon, which is worth ten cents when presented at the ticket office. Told me to keep it myself." "This generosity is not common among passengers?" "No, sir. That is why the incident impressed itself upon my memory." "Did you notice anything unusual in the appearance of the accused?" "I noticed he seemed rather excited." "And got off at Woodlawn?" "Yes, sir; jumped off at Woodlawn and crossed the fields over toward the woods." "On the unfrequented side of the station?" "Yes, sir; toward the cemetery. There is only one house on that side." "Whose house is that?" asked Shagarach. "The Arnolds', I believe." "Do you know Harry Arnold?" "No, sir." "He rides in on the Northern line usually, I presume?" "I believe so; it is more up-town." "In the city, you mean?" "Yes, sir; a great deal more convenient to the high-toned section." "Then if this passenger were Harry Arnold he would have had to pay a cash fare on your railroad, as well as one not used to riding over the road, like Floyd?" "I suppose so. We don't exchange tickets with the Northern." "You see a great many hundred faces in the course of a week?" "Yes, sir." "How many tall, dark young men, wearing full mustaches and answering to the general description of the accused, should you say you had seen since June 28?" "Oh, I couldn't say as to that." "A hundred?" "More, probably." "But out of these hundred or more you have a distinct recollection of this one, the accused?" "Yes, sir." "And would swear his life away on the strength of your recollection?" "Well, not exactly——" "That is all." "One moment," said the district attorney. "Your occupation and experience give you exceptional training in the study of faces, do they not?" "Yes, sir." At this moment Harry Arnold came into the courtroom, attended by a great St. Bernard. The young man had hardly stepped inside the bar, when a deep bark was heard and the dog leaped toward the accused, standing on his hind legs and placing his paws on the wall of the cage, while he licked Robert's hands like a spaniel. Emily was deeply affected and tried to distract Sire's attention, but he had eyes only for his master. "Down, Sire," said Robert. Shagarach had paused during the interruption. "Will you kindly shut your eyes, Mr. Checkerberry?" he now said. The witness did as requested. Then Shagarach stepped up to Harry Arnold and whispered to him. Harry looked at him oddly. But he shook off the momentary confusion, and, scarcely looking at the witness, exclaimed: "Am I the man you saw?" "You are," answered the conductor. "Open your eyes. Which of these two men spoke to you?" asked Shagarach. Robert stood up beside his cousin. The resemblance was indeed striking. Both were about the same height and both strongly marked with the peculiarities of kindred blood. The conductor turned from one to the other. "Very well," said Shagarach. "It is the face of Jacob, but the voice of Esau. For the present, that will do." "Miss Senda Wesner." While the bakeshop girl was pushing her way forward from the back seat which she had occupied, Sire, who was squeezed where he lay, gravely arose, climbed the vacated witness-box and spread his great limbs out, majestically contemplating the spectators. "This is the one eyewitness of the crime," said the district attorney. "But unfortunately dumb," added Shagarach. Just then an impulse seized Emily, who had left the cage for a moment—Emily, the most shrinking of girls—and catching a large waste-basket which stood under the lawyers' desks to receive the litter that accumulates in trials, she stood up and shoved it toward the dog. To everybody's surprise, he scrambled to his feet in alarm, backed hastily away and barked continuously at the harmless object. Then before the whole court, judges, jury and all, Emily clapped her hands and gave a girlish shriek of delight—only to sink in her place afterward, as the spectators smiled, and hide her blushes behind her fan. But it was some little while before Sire would let her pat him. "You work opposite the Arnold house, Miss Wesner?" asked the district attorney. "Directly opposite. I can look right over into their windows," said Senda. "But I hope you don't." "Well, I try not to, but sometimes, you know, you can't resist the inclination," chattered the bakeshop girl. "You can always try." "Oh, I do try, but you know——" "Yes, I know. We all know. At what hour did you see Floyd coming out of his house on the afternoon of the fire?" "The fire was going before 3:30, because I saw it. And I'll swear Mr. Floyd left the house at least four minutes, probably five, before." "Walking to the right or to the left?" "To my right, his left," answered Senda, glibly. "And the flames broke out shortly after he went out?" "Well, of course——" began the witness, all primed with an argument. "Please answer yes or no." "No—I mean yes." "You heard the explosion?" "Heard it? Why——" "Where did it appear to come from?" "It came from Prof. Arnold's study, as plain as your voice comes from you, but I don't see——" "That will do," said the district attorney, handing the witness over to Shagarach. "What do you say to my sketch of this Hebe?" asked Ecks. "The drawing would be creditable in a gingerbread doll," answered Wye. They were a sorry pair of lookers-on, both of them, appearing to regard the whole panorama of creation as a sort of arsenal of happy suggestions, especially established by Providence for the embellishment of their forthcoming works. But Hans Heiderman in his back seat didn't think she appeared homely at all in her red-checked dress and flaming hair, done up in Circassian coils. Of course he was looking at the soul of the girl, which was better than gold, and which neither Ecks nor Wye, for all their wise smiles, the least bit understood. "You are rather accurate in your observations of time?" asked Shagarach. "Oh, yes; I'm noted for that. I haven't looked at the clock for an hour, but I could tell you what time it is now." "Shut your eyes and tell me." "It is—about seventeen minutes past 4." "Seventeen and a half," announced Shagarach, taking out his watch. Every man in the room, except the judges, had done likewise, while the ladies all studied the clock. "Very good. At what time would you fix the explosion in the study?" "About 3:34." "One minute earlier, then, than District Chief Wotherspoon. Now, Miss Wesner, do you recollect anything about a peddler in a green cart that used to come to Prof. Arnold's?" "Oh, that peddler. Yes, indeed, I——" "How long had he been vending his goods through Cazenove street?" "About a month. I know I never——" "Had you seen him before that?" "Never saw him before in my life, but——" "How often did he come by?" "Two or three times a week." She had almost given up the attempt to work in her explanations edgewise. The rapid volley of questions prevented all elaboration. "How often did he stop at Prof. Arnold's?" "Almost every time." "Was it Bertha who came to the door?" "No, sir; it was Ellen generally. She was the cook, you know; got $4 a week, but she wasn't a patch on Bertha just the same." "When did he stop coming with his—vegetables, was it, he sold?" "Yes, sir; vegetables, and once potted plants." "And when did he stop coming?" "Just before the Arnold fire." "You never saw him after the fire—as a peddler, I mean?" Shagarach had not yet received an answer from the superintendent of Woodlawn cemetery, and was still in the dark about his assailant. But from the evidence he had he was satisfied that he could prove a connection with Harry Arnold. "No, sir; not as a peddler." |