ELLA GINGLES ON TRIAL.

BY HAL M'LEOD LYTLE.

Was Ella Gingles, the little blonde Irish lace-maker, on trial for stealing $50 worth of lace from Agnes Barrett?

Or was the city of Chicago on trial for permitting an unsophisticated girl to be made the victim of a criminal corporation with its headquarters in another state, as Miss Gingles has sworn?

No more remarkable case was ever tried in the criminal court of Cook county, wherein some of the most amazing cases of which the world has record have been heard and decided.

Ella Gingles was charged with larceny. Ella Gingles asserted that the charge against her was inspired by an intent on the part of her accusers to brand her a thief so that her story of the criminal machinations of a gang operating in the interest of a combination against law and order, with headquarters at an Indiana resort, might escape the penalty of acts committed by its agents.

The jury which heard Ella Gingles' story was not misled by any rhetorical bombast or alleged expert testimony covering the coined phrase, "mythomania."

Miss Gingles was supposed to have the hysterical tendency developed to the extent that she imagined things happened and then believed they had happened.

There are such people, but they are not of the physical or mental make-up of Ella Gingles. Dr. Krohn has had, no doubt, a vast experience of hysteria, basing the theory on his Kankakee connection, but he reckoned without the jury if he believed that the clear-eyed, self-poised young woman who told that horrible story to the court involving Agnes Barrett and Cecelia Kenyon with the "man in the velvet mask," was a victim of hysteria.

The testimony of Ella Gingles was of a sort that might be heard in a French court and understood. If it were heard in an English court, and believed, the plaintiffs would be certain of twenty years at hard labor without appeal.

In the criminal court of Chicago the prosecution was placed in a strange position. Ella Gingles, charged with a crime against the state, no matter by whom, it was the duty of the state's attorney's office to prosecute her with all the resources of that office.

Across the river they are used to meeting steel with steel. They fight with the weapons that the enemy uses. They perhaps become too inured to the idea that everybody is guilty until proved innocent. Therefore the cross-examination of Ella Gingles by Mr. Short, legitimate enough if the young woman were the double-dyed criminal he appears to believe her, fell short of its intended effect with the jury that leaned forward, every man listening with hand over ear for the lightest word of the softest-spoken witness the criminal court had seen in many a day.

Mr. Short was too clever an advocate to believe that the racking cross-examination covering hideous detail of the behavior of Miss Barrett and the dead Mrs. Kenyon, which brought tears to the eyes of the shrinking witness, could add anything to the state's contention in this case.

Ella Gingles was ingenuous to a fault. She answered questions put to her in cross-examination without an instant's hesitation, and with the utmost candor. An apparent discrepancy seized on by the lawyers opposing her and questions thundered at her in denunciatory tone fell flat. The question sounded subtle.

"Ah!" whispered the doubter in the spectator's row. "Here is where she betrays herself."

Then, without an instant's pause, the girl told just what happened. She had been told that she must talk out—just as though she were talking to her mother—and so she told everything. It was a difficult situation for a prosecuting lawyer.

But if Ella Gingles was ingenuous, Ella Gingles was no fool. She knew that she was on the defensive.

Still, it was not to be wondered at that the Ella Gingles case proved a puzzle to the Chicago police and the state's attorney's office. The young woman appeared to have a thorough knowledge of the pitfalls that beset young womanhood in certain directions, and to be grossly ignorant of those that girls of less maturity in Chicago might be expected to avoid.

When, in the course of her examination, it developed that Ella Gingles was thinking in the way of a foreigner in a strange place while the state's advocate was cross-examining her as though she had been born and bred in Chicago, or at least in America, the assurance of the defendant charged with a crime was remarkable.

If at any time it should develop that Ella Gingles has lied throughout, that she was never attacked in the Wellington hotel—that Miss Barrett is not guilty of the charges made against her and that the weird story of conspiracy was born in a clever brain, rehearsed and then put on like any melodramatic bit for the delectation of a surfeited public it will go hard with the girl.

Miss Gingles was gowned in the most simple style. Her fresh, unpainted face and her wide-staring, innocent eyes were of the sort seldom involved in a case of this kind.

When asked an involved question in cross-examination she half hesitated, looked quickly at judge and jury, flashed a glance of inquiry at her lawyer and blushed.

Blushing is an accomplishment. It impresses a jury tremendously. Miss Gingles not only blushed, but she wiggled. With a glove twisted in her hand, she had hesitated so long over the answer to a question involving a disagreeable answer that the most dramatic of all situations had been produced.

The court would wait, the audience would hang breathless, the attorneys, standing up, would lean forward, while the witness tried to find words in which to formulate a reply.

Then in three words the story would be told. The jury would lean back and gasp. The judge would swing around in his pivot chair and assume an air of unconcern. The attorneys would busy themselves with papers and the audience would groan. Still Miss Gingles would sit there in the witness chair unperturbed.

Could an innocent young woman sustain the horror of such a climax?

The jury that rendered the verdict of "not guilty" was a representative one. They ranged from men high in the financial world to those of low estate. In the days that they sat listening to the terrible tale as unfolded by the little Irish lace-maker and the physicians they appeared to be held as though spellbound.

It was a dramatic trial, filled throughout with thrills and shudders.

Sensation followed sensation. At no time during the long trial, which cost the state of Illinois nearly $100,000, did the interest lapse.

It was for the jurors to decide the truth of this complication of alleged happenings and as to the guilt of the little foreigner, charged by her alleged persecutor with theft.

The important points on which Madame Barrett based her charges against Ella Gingles were:

That Ella Gingles signed a confession December 6, 1908, admitting she was a department store thief.

That she stole valuable lace from her and used the lace in the new dress.

That the lace-maker's injuries were self-inflicted.

Combatting this, the little defendant and her stanch friends swore:

That she was a victim of a conspiracy on the part of her accusers.

That her enemies attempted to make her a white slave.

That she was urged by Madame Barrett to accept money offered her by her tempter.

That she was seized, bound and horribly mistreated in the Wellington hotel, as the result of her refusal to accede to Madame Barrett's demands.

That the Barrett woman forced open, or caused to be forced open, her trunk and took therefrom laces and valuable keepsakes and personal properties belonging to her.

It was charge met by charge.

During the long hearing Madame Barrett sat alone. She seemed to have been shunned. At no time did she lose her self-control. The most violent charges seemed to affect her but little.

The girl would make some terrible charge from the witness stand. The prosecuting witness would sit immovable. Her face did not blanch. It did not color to a crimson red. Her eyes did not wander. Forever they were gazing directly in front of her, yet without looking at any one and anything.

It was the gaze and composure of a woman of the world—a woman who has passed through horrors before and who has become immune.

After the jury had been selected Miss Gingles was released on bond. Previous to this time she had been confined in the county jail at her own request, as she charged her enemies were still following her and she feared they would do her injury.

At the opening of the first session of court First Assistant State's Attorney Benedict J. Short made a short address.

"Miss Gingles, and not Miss Barrett, is on trial here. You must try this case on the evidence alone," said Mr. Short.

Attorney O'Donnell declared he would show that Miss Gingles was the victim of a plot instigated by an alleged agent representing an influential Indiana Democratic politician.

Here are a few samples of questions asked veniremen by Attorney O'Donnell of the defense:

"Are you married?"

"Have you any sisters?"

"Have you read about this case?"

"Miss Gingles is Irish—does that make any difference?"

"Would it make any difference if Miss Gingles belongs to a different religion than you do?"

Assistant State's Attorneys Short and Furthman questioned prospective jurors along these lines:

"Do you know anything about the Irish lace store?"

"Did you ever stop at the Wellington hotel?"

"Can the state accept you as a juror with confidence that you will do your full duty and not be swayed by outside influences?"

When Attorney Patrick H. O'Donnell, her counsel, entered the courtroom he held a short conference with Assistant State's Attorney Short.

While they were talking Miss Gingles entered the courtroom, accompanied by a deputy sheriff.

"We desire to have Miss Gingles admitted to bail," said Mr. O'Donnell.

"I am very willing, I always have been willing that Miss Gingles should be free on bail," replied Mr. Short.

There was another short conference, after which Mr. Short said: "We will accept you as Miss Gingles' surety."

Thereupon Miss Gingles tripped lightly up to the clerk's desk and wrote her name on the bond. Mr. O'Donnell also affixed his signature to the $2,000 bond and the pretty defendant was freed from the attentions of the officer.

Ella Gingles presented a picture of fresh, girlish beauty as she took her place in front of the jury box.

She wore a white linen suit, with a long coat. The collar and cuffs were trimmed with blue ribbon. A tan straw hat, tam o'shanter style, was patched by brown ribbons and roses. Her brown hair, in curly puffs and waves, fell below her ears and tumbled bewitchingly over her eyes.

The scene in the courtroom at the criminal court when Ella Gingles took the witness stand to relate her terrible story was one never to be forgotten.

As the little lace-maker's name was called and she rose to walk past the jury to the witness stand fifty women seated in the back part of the courtroom rose and began to clap their hands. Some threw their handkerchiefs into the air.

The girl seemed much affected by the demonstration. Judge Brentano seemed taken aback for a moment by this unusual outburst. In vain the bailiff pounded with his gavel for order. Finally the court was compelled to rise and sternly rebuke the courtroom in no uncertain terms.

Miss Gingles began her story in a low tone. It was the voice of a schoolgirl telling of something she had undergone, but could not comprehend. The persons in the courtroom hung on every word. You could have heard a pin fall. As Miss Gingles took the stand Attorney O'Donnell said:

"State your name."

"Ella Gingles," the witness replied, in a voice that rang out through the courtroom. She said she would be nineteen years old next November. She was born in Ireland. Her father's name is Thomas, and she has seven sisters and several brothers. She said she came to America in November, 1907.

"Did you make Irish lace?"

"Yes."

She identified a design shown her as one she made when eight years old.

"Who made the hat you are now wearing?"

"I did."

The hat was a peach-basket affair. A design of lace was shown her and she said she was the maker, as well as the designer.

She testified she won prizes in Ireland for fancy lace-making. She said she originated several designs.

Miss Gingles said she remained in Montreal two days, later going to Belleville, Ontario, where she worked as a cook. From there she went to Toronto. She visited a sister in Michigan, coming direct from there to Chicago about November 15, 1908.

"What did you do here?"

"I went to work as a chambermaid at the Wellington hotel. I stayed there a week."

"What did you next do?"

"I went there to meet some fine lady to sell laces to, and quit the work and sold them."

"Where did you next work?"

"At a Michigan avenue restaurant, but quit after four days."

"When and how did you meet Agnes Barrett?"

"I went to her store and showed her my lace."

At the mention of her name Miss Barrett looked straight into the eyes of the girl she accused, and Miss Gingles returned the glances without coloring.

"Miss Barrett gave me some roses to work on," resumed the witness. "She gave me $1 and then I made some berries and more roses."

Miss Gingles said she continued to work for Miss Barrett, receiving $1 per day. Altogether she worked four days for Miss Barrett before Christmas.

"Did Miss Barrett say in your presence and a maid that she missed things?"

"She said she missed some powder and paint and some Limerick laces."

Miss Gingles seemed confident, and began to smile as she testified. On January 4, she said, she returned home at seven o'clock, and found Miss Barrett and Mrs. Kenyon in her room.

"Is Mrs. Kenyon living or dead?"

"Dead."

Attorney O'Donnell dropped this line of questioning and inquired further as to what occurred on that evening.

She said Miss Barrett and Mrs. Kenyon took practically everything of value from her trunk, including prize lace designs, underwear, photographs, bracelets, strips of chiffon and a ring.

"Was the ring valuable?"

"It cost 15 cents in Ireland, but Miss Barrett said: 'It must be valuable or it wouldn't be in a costly box.'

"Besides, they trampled my clothes in the dirt and greased what they left with candles."

"What else did they take?"

"A fancy pillow case I made on a ship."

The most startling part of the girl's story was of the alleged attack upon her in the Wellington hotel, although her testimony was the story of her life practically from the time she came to America from Ireland.

Miss Gingles, in her testimony, declared that it was she, and not Miss Barrett, that had been robbed, and she told a story of how her room at 474 La Salle avenue had been broken into and ransacked in her absence and many valuable pieces of lace taken.

She declared that the robbery was made complete by Miss Barrett the same night in the Wellington hotel by taking all the money out of her purse and forcing her to walk back to her boarding house from downtown in the cold of a winter's night.

She said that on this night she was forced to sign a confession, admitting the theft of lace for which the girl now is being tried.

Her story of the attack upon her in the Wellington was the most remarkable ever heard in the criminal court building, and during it there were many outbursts from the spectators.

Miss Barrett, her accuser in the theft charge, was as agitated as the witness, and several times seemed on the verge of breaking down.

Attorney Patrick H. O'Donnell made good his declaration that the story of Miss Gingles concerning her treatment in the Wellington hotel would be told under oath from the witness chair.

Step by step the lawyer led the girl.

"She offered me money; advised me to take the money the man offered me whom she had brought to the room when I was helpless. She choked me, threatened me, and finally accused me of stealing and made me sign a confession before she would permit me to leave the room."

These were some of the accusations sobbed out by the lace-maker.

Time and again there were seeming admissions forced from the girl's lips which Mr. Short hoped would lay the foundation for impeachment of the most sensational sort.

There was a short delay, owing to a number of emergency matters set before Judge Brentano. Then Mr. O'Donnell resumed the questioning of Miss Gingles as follows:

"In Captain O'Brien's office when this necklace was produced, what did you say?"

"I said it was my necklace," answered the witness.

"Did Captain O'Brien say anything about you proving that it was your necklace?"

"Yes. I told him that Daisy Young of Belleville, Ontario, could prove that the necklace was mine," answered Miss Gingles.

"Did you write to Daisy Young?"

"Yes."

"Did she answer your letter?"

"Yes."

"Did you show the letter to Captain O'Brien?"

"Yes."

"Have you the letter Daisy Young wrote?"

"Yes; here it is."

"Now, I'll read it," said Mr. O'Donnell.

"No, you won't; I object," said Assistant Prosecutor Short.

"Sustained," said Judge Brentano.

"But I want to show that Captain O'Brien's suppressed evidence is contradicted by this letter," returned Mr. O'Donnell.

"There is no rule of evidence whereby such a letter could be admissible," replied the court.

"Did you meet Mary Brennan at the door of Miss Barrett's room as she testified?"

"Yes."

"Now, tell the jury if there was any property in your room that didn't belong to you?"

"Yes, a towel from the Wellington hotel."

"Did you tell Captain O'Brien?"

"Yes."

"When you went to Miss Barrett's room what happened?" asked Attorney O'Donnell.

"Miss Barrett and Mrs. Kenyon went with me, and Mrs. Kenyon whispered something into my ear. Then Mrs. Kenyon told me I had to take off my clothes. I told her I would do nothing of the sort. Then Miss Barrett and Mrs. Kenyon took off my clothes and made me go to bed. Then Miss Barrett told me that she wanted me to go to French Lick Springs, Indiana."

"Did she tell you what she wanted you to go there for?" asked Mr. O'Donnell.

Here Miss Gingles began to cry.

"Don't do that, Ella," said Mr. O'Donnell.

The girl made revolting charges against both Agnes Barrett and Mrs. Kenyon.

"What happened then?" was asked.

"Why, Miss Barrett offered me a silk dress if I would do as she told me."

"Did she show you the dress?"

"Yes."

"Tell what happened," urged the attorney.

"Mrs. Kenyon said to Miss Barrett: 'Where is the other girl? We promised them to bring two girls here.'"

"Did any men enter the room?"

"Yes, one man came in."

"What else happened?"

"Miss Barrett and Mrs. Kenyon held me."

"Did the man offer you any money?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't take it."

"Did Miss Barrett tell you to take it?"

"Yes."

"Was the light burning?"

"Yes, but when the man came in Miss Barrett turned it off."

"Did you know at the time that Miss Barrett had gone to your room and taken the lace and other articles that you are now charged with stealing?" asked Mr. O'Donnell.

"No, sir."

"Did Miss Barrett say anything to you that night about losing lace?"

"Yes, and she said I had stolen it. I told her it was a lie."

"What did Miss Barrett say?"

"She had a paper and said I would have to sign it and admit that I had stolen the lace. I refused to do it."

"What did she say?"

"She said if I didn't sign it she would call that man back again. Then I signed it."

"Did you call Miss Barrett any names that night?"

"Yes, I told her that she was a beast and that Mrs. Kenyon was another."

"Tell the jury what you did."

"I tried to scream, but Miss Barrett put a towel over my mouth and she said if I screamed again she would choke me."

The girl declared that Mrs. Kenyon and Miss Barrett had prevented her resisting the man.

She declared she had cried and when she went home she asked two women to call a policeman. "They told me to go to Captain O'Brien's office the next day and I did," said Miss Gingles.

"Did you have any money?" was asked.

"No, Miss Barrett took all my money out of my purse."

"How did you get home to 474 La Salle avenue?"

"I ran home."

"That's all," said Attorney O'Donnell.

"Did you run all the way home?" was the first question by Prosecutor Short on cross-examination.

"Yes, ran or walked."

"Which way did you go?"

"I ran out in Jackson boulevard and ran west on the north side of the street," answered Miss Gingles.

"Did you see any people while you were running?

"I didn't notice many."

"How did you go down stairs?"

"I took the elevator."

"Didn't you know there was a policeman in the Wellington hotel?"

"No, I didn't see any policeman."

"There were lots of people in the hotel office, wasn't there?"

"I didn't stop to notice."

"You didn't have any money to pay your car fare?"

"No; Miss Barrett had taken all my money."

"You saw people in the streets, but you didn't stop and tell any of them to call a policeman?"

"No."

"What time did you leave the Wellington hotel?"

"At twenty-five minutes to twelve o'clock."

"How long did it take you to get home?"

"About twenty minutes."

"What was the first thing you did when you got home?"

"I saw Mrs. Linderman, the landlady."

"Where was she?"

"In the basement."

"What was the first thing you said to Mrs. Linderman?"

"I told her that an awful thing had happened. Then I told her all."

"What did you do then?"

"I asked her how I could get a policeman, and she said it was too late and to wait till the next day. Then I went upstairs to see another woman and told her the same thing, and she said I had better wait and go to see Captain O'Brien the next day."

"Then what happened?"

"Mrs. Linderman went with me to my room, and there I found that my trunk had been broken into and most of my things taken. I showed Mrs. Linderman what had been done."

"That was when Miss Barrett had gone to your room and taken the lace and other things which she claimed you had stolen?"

"Yes."

"You went to see Captain O'Brien the next day, did you?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell him that you had been attacked?"

"No."

"You didn't mention anything, not to a man anyway, about what you have related as occurring in Miss Barrett's room?"

"No."

"Just told them you had been robbed of $100 worth of lace?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell anybody—any of the policemen who went around with you, about it?"

"No, I couldn't tell that awful story to anybody."

"This confession you signed to Miss Barrett wasn't the first confession you ever signed, was it?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

Here Prosecutor Short produced the first sensational attack upon Ella Gingles.

"Didn't you sign a confession that you had taken goods from a department store?"

"No."

"How old do you say you are?"

"I am eighteen."

"Look at this signature signed December 6, 1908—is that your signature?"

Here Mr. Short produced a paper purporting to be a confession that Ella Gingles had made, when accused of theft in a department store.

"That is my signature," said Miss Gingles.

Her voice quivered. There was a gasp among the women who had flocked to the courtroom to lend their moral aid to the accused girl.

"Let's see," said Mr. Short, mercilessly. "At the very outset this paper says—your admission—that you were then twenty years old."

"No, sir," interrupted Miss Gingles.

"Here, look at it; there it is, twenty years old."

"I told them I was eighteen."

"You have said you were born in Ireland?"

"Yes."

"But this document says—your admission—that you were born in London."

The witness made no answer.

Mr. Short attempted to offer the document in evidence, but was temporarily prevented by a ruling of the court.

"You say you were a good girl—a perfectly good girl—up to the time you met Agnes Barrett?"

"Yes; oh, yes, sir," sobbed Miss Gingles.

"You lived in Belleville, Ontario, before coming to Chicago?"

"Yes."

"As Ella Gingles?"

"Yes."

"What! Didn't you call yourself Ella Raymond?"

"No."

"Did you know a Dr. Gibson there?"

"No, sir."

"Didn't he attend you when you were ill?"

"He did not; he did not."

Mr. Short intimated that this part of the girl's testimony would be impeached by testimony of the physician.

"It was under the auspices of that woman's guild at Belleville, Ontario, that you went to work for Mrs. Thornton?"

"Yes."

"No white slave about that?"

"No."

"Was that Mrs. D. S. Thornton?"

"Yes, sir."

"You never had any trouble with them?"

"No."

"When were you taken ill?"

"About two months later."

"What was the doctor's name?"

"I don't remember."

"How long were you at the hospital?"

"I don't remember."

"Didn't the nurse and Mrs. Thornton object to having you go back to work?"

"No."

On this point the witness was quite positive.

Then Mr. Short described the Thornton house and asked the witness if she didn't know that up in the attic much linen was stored.

Miss Gingles said that she didn't know about it. She described the marking on the linen, and then was asked:

"If Mr. Thornton said you took linen from his house, he is wrong?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you know his handwriting?"

"Yes."

Then Mr. Short showed her the letter from Mr. Thornton that Captain O'Brien had.

"That is his handwriting, but the letter is not true," said the witness.

Then Mr. Short returned to the baby clothes that were found in Miss Gingles' trunk.

"How long have you had these baby clothes?"

"About four months."

"How much larger were you going to make these clothes?"

"Just a little larger."

"Why didn't you start at these?"

"I was waiting for a job."

"You had lots of time?"

"Yes, but I had to work at lace-making to support myself."

"When you were at the Thornton house didn't the family go away?"

"Yes, to Quebec."

"And didn't you have a photograph taken in one of Mrs. Thornton's lace dresses?"

"No, sir."

Then Mr. Short showed her a picture of herself taken by R. McCormick of Belleville.

"That is an enlargement of a photograph that I had taken in Ireland," said Miss Gingles.

"You didn't have this taken in Belleville?"

"No."

"When you went back to the Thornton home from the hospital did the doctor go back with you, or did you ask him to speak to them?"

"No."

"Where did you come from to Chicago after leaving the Thorntons?"

"I went to work for Mrs. Lindquist in July and went to Toronto with her, and then went to Bangor, Michigan, and then to Chicago."

"Where did you go when you went to Chicago?"

"To Mrs. Linderman's house."

"Didn't you have a room at 300 Indiana street?"

"Yes; I roomed with Mrs. Rice."

"No trouble there, did you?"

"No."

"Where did she work?"

"In the Wellington hotel."

"What did she do?"

"She was the linen girl."

"How far is 300 Indiana street from 474 La Salle avenue?"

"Half a dozen blocks."

"You went into Miss Barrett's lace store for the first time in November?"

"Yes."

"Was that before you went to work in the Wellington?"

"Yes."

"Did you see Miss Barrett?"

"Yes."

"Do you know Mrs. Kenyon's sister?"

"Yes."

"Did you have any conversation with anybody there about your mother in Ireland?"

"No."

"Did you tell Miss Barrett that your mother had given you £200 to come to the country for a good time and that you had lost it on the way to the boat?"

"No, sir."

"Did you tell Miss Barrett that you lived at the Wellington hotel?"

"Yes."

Then, prompted by Miss Barrett, Mr. Short put the witness through a long questioning regarding the different kinds of lace.

It was a duel of lace-making knowledge between Miss Gingles and Agnes Barrett, but Mr. Short failed to secure any important admissions.

A queer incident occurred after the adjournment. Ella Gingles, who was formerly kept a prisoner in the county jail, and who was released on bail, ran from the witness stand into the arms of several women who are befriending her. Agnes Barrett, white and desperate at the charges made against her, ran back from the advancing throng of women.

The accuser of Ella Gingles ran past the jury out of the room by the prisoners' door—the door used by Ella Gingles to enter and leave the room under the escort of a negro deputy sheriff.

Miss Barrett hurried down the stairs and into the office of Mr. Short.

Among the women who were with the lace-maker were Mrs. T. G. Kent, president of the Daughters of the Confederacy; Mrs. Van Dusen Cooke of the Socialist Women of the United States; Mrs. M. C. Brem of the Social Economics Club; Mrs. Lyman Cooley of the Evanston W. C. T. U.; Mrs. Mollie Benecke, Irish Choral Society; Dr. M. V. Maxson; Mrs. Margaret Inglehart; Mrs. Frances Hagen, and Mrs. Frances Howe, Children's Day Association.

Testimony which was deemed favorable to Miss Gingles was given by Captain P. D. O'Brien of the detective bureau, who was called by the state. Captain O'Brien admitted that he had formerly been friendly to Miss Gingles, and Attorney O'Donnell got it before the jury that he had even suggested the employment of her present counsel.

The detective chief gave testimony which was thought to favor the defendant. The witness declared that the first charge of theft was made by Ella Gingles against Agnes Barrett of the Wellington hotel, and told of an investigation by the police of a raid on Miss Gingles' home, 474 La Salle avenue, in which Miss Barrett and Mrs. Kenyon took away some lace and a watch and bank book belonging to the defendant.

His examination, conducted by Mr. Short, follows:

"Do you remember seeing Miss Barrett and Ella Gingles on January 5, 1909?"

"Yes. Ella Gingles came to my office and said she worked at the Wellington hotel and that Mrs. Kenyon and Miss Barrett had gone to her room at 474 La Salle avenue and took her watch, bank book and laces, claiming she had stolen the lace. She said they had compelled her to sign a statement that she had stolen the lace.

"I asked Ella Gingles if she stole the lace and she said, 'No.'

"I told her I thought it was funny that she should have signed the statement.

"I sent for Miss Barrett and Mrs. Kenyon. The latter came. We had the lace, watch and bank book taken to my office.

"What was the lace kept in?"

"A blue pillow case."

"Finally Miss Barrett came to my office and I had her and Miss Gingles attempt to sort out the laces which they claimed were theirs. Then we put the lace on a table and Miss Barrett and Miss Gingles both claimed most of the lace. I told them they had better take the case to court. I told Miss Gingles not to give Miss Barrett the lace if it didn't belong to her."

"Miss Gingles did admit that some of the lace belonged to Miss Barrett, did she?" asked Mr. Short.

"Yes, but she claimed that Miss Barrett or some of her friends took it to her room. She denied having stolen it."

"What did Miss Barrett say about the watch and bank book?"

"She said she had lost other property and that she thought she could keep it until her loss had been made good. I told her she couldn't do that in my office."

"Was there any trouble over a necklace?"

"Yes. Miss Barrett claimed a necklace which she said she had bought in New York. Miss Gingles denied the assertion and said she had brought the necklace from Ireland."

The necklace was introduced in evidence.

Attorney O'Donnell began the cross-examination in an unusual manner, which called for an equally unusual objection from Prosecutor Short.

"Good morning, captain," Mr. O'Donnell began, in his most dulcet, honeyed tones.

"Good morning," returned the witness.

"I object," shouted Mr. Short.

"What for?" asked Judge Brentano, in astonishment.

"Oh, I don't care about Mr. O'Donnell's good morning, but to its obvious purpose," said Mr. Short.

After some preliminary questions Mr. O'Donnell asked Captain O'Brien if he remembered a statement made to him in the presence of Chief Clerk William Luthardt of the police department, to the effect that when the piles of lace were divided "Ella Gingles had the pile and Agnes Barrett had the scraps."

Captain O'Brien said he didn't remember it that way.

"But the piles were about equally divided," said Captain O'Brien.

The witness' memory failed him on several points which had impressed Mr. O'Donnell, and finally, when the lawyer became nettled, he snapped this question across the table:

"You were the first person to suggest that I defend Miss Gingles—you wanted me to defend her, didn't you?"

Objection by Mr. Short was promptly sustained.

E. C. Capon, manager of the Wellington hotel, then was called and asked to identify a pass-key which the state claims was found in the Gingles girl's room.

"That's a maid's pass-key," said Capon.

"Poof! I never had a pass-key—I never saw that one until I was arrested," said Miss Gingles.

May Brennan, who came direct to Chicago from County Sligo, Ireland, less than a year ago, was the next witness.

"What is your occupation?" asked Mr. Short.

"I'm a lace teacher."

"Did you try to get Miss Gingles a position in a department store?"

"Yes."

"Did any one ask you to befriend Miss Gingles?"

"Yes—Miss Barrett."

Then Prosecutor Short sprang his big surprise.

"Here is a piece of lace taken from Miss Gingles' room. Did you ever see that before?" asked Mr. Short.

"Yes—I made it. That's my own make."

"What did you do with the original piece of lace?"

"I sent it to Miss Barrett at French Lick, Indiana, last summer."

"Do you know how Ella Gingles came to have this lace?"

"No."

"You didn't give it to her?"

"No. I gave it to Miss Barrett."

Witness then told of having seen Ella Gingles go to Miss Barrett's room in the Wellington hotel early last January.

"Miss Barrett sent me up to her room and I saw Miss Gingles waiting for somebody. Then a bellboy gave Ella Gingles Miss Barrett's pass-key and we both went into the room."

Witness did not know how Miss Gingles came to demand the pass-key of Miss Barrett's room, but was sure she went into the room when Miss Barrett was absent.

Miss Margaret Donahue was then called. She is secretary of the Wellington Hotel Company.

"Was any of your property found in Miss Gingles' room?" asked Mr. Short.

"Yes."

"Is this the property you refer to?" and Mr. Short waved before the jury a pair of long, black, silk stockings.

"Yes—those are mine."

Mr. O'Donnell looked at Miss Gingles—the latter turned pink and the jury gingerly examined the expansive hosiery that was passed over the railing.

The strongest part of Mrs. Linderman's testimony came when she told of having gone to the Wellington hotel February 17, the morning after the bathroom episode. She found Miss Gingles delirious, in bed under the care of a physician. Attorney Patrick H. O'Donnell and several policemen were there, the witness declared.

"Tell the condition of Ella Gingles," commanded Attorney O'Donnell.

"She was crazy, crazy, crazy," declared Mrs. Linderman.

"What did she do?"

"She lay on the bed and screamed at the top of her voice."

"What did she scream?"

"She kept repeating, 'Oh, Miss Barrett! Don't let that devil-man in here again! Don't let him kill me, Miss Barrett! Save me, Miss Barrett.'"

Mrs. Linderman also told of how Ella Gingles, on the night of January 4, following the first alleged attack in the room of Miss Barrett at the Wellington hotel, had come home in a disheveled, hysterical condition.

"She told me that a terrible thing had happened to her and accused Miss Barrett. But she was afraid to tell me because she said that Miss Barrett had threatened to kill her if she told," said Mrs. Linderman.

Just before Mrs. Linderman, the mother, took the stand Tecla, her thirteen-year-old daughter, preceded her. She swore positively that the necklace which Miss Agnes Barrett accuses Ella Gingles of stealing was a substitute.

She wore a school girl's dress of white muslin, with an over-yoke of lace. Her hair was combed back from her forehead and tied at the back with a white silk ribbon.

The little girl was somewhat confused and held up her wrong hand when taking the oath. Her testimony follows:

"Do you know Ella Gingles?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did she ever live at your house?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you ever seen her wearing jewelry?"

"Yes, sir; I saw her wearing a necklace of purple beads."

"How long after she came to your house did you see her wearing them?"

"I can't remember exactly."

"Where was it you saw her wearing the beads?"

"She was in the kitchen."

"You are sure you saw her wearing the beads?"

"Yes, sir. I remember it plainly."

"Was your mother in the kitchen at the time?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did she see Ella wearing the necklace?"

"Yes."

Cross-examined by Mr. Short, the youthful witness was trapped as to the number of beads in the necklace held by the attorney.

"How many beads were there on Ella's necklace?" asked Mr. Stout.

"There were seven."

The prosecuting attorney produced the necklace alleged to have been stolen by Miss Gingles from Miss Barrett.

"Is this the necklace Ella wore?"

"No, sir."

"What?"

"I say, no, sir. It is a different necklace."

"In what way?"

"This has five beads and Ella's had seven."

Mrs. Linderman, mother of Tecla Linderman, then took the stand. Her testimony was sensational. She related the story of the night when Miss Barrett and Miss Donahue visited the Linderman home in La Salle avenue and ransacked the room of the little lace-maker.

Then she went into the details of the condition of Miss Gingles after the happenings at the Wellington hotel. She declared that the girl was a raving maniac when she went to the hotel on the afternoon Miss Gingles was found bound hand and foot, with large gashes cut in her body, in the bathroom of the hostelry.

"You were at home on the night Miss Barrett and the other woman called to see Miss Gingles at the La Salle avenue home?" suggested Attorney O'Donnell.

"Yes, sir," answered the witness.

"How long were the women with Ella Gingles—to the best of your knowledge?" asked Mr. O'Donnell.

"At least two hours."

"Did Ella Gingles go away with the women?"

"Yes."

"What time did she return?"

"About twelve o'clock."

"What was her condition?"

"She was crying terribly. Her eyes were red and her hair was all tumbled down. She said she had been treated horribly. She said she couldn't tell me what was the matter, because they would kill her if she told any one."

"What else happened?"

"We went to her room together and I saw that her clothes had been dumped into a heap and were covered with candle grease. I helped her to clean them."

"Ella Gingles didn't tell you what they did to her?"

"No."

"Wasn't your curiosity excited?" asked Judge Brentano.

"Yes, but what could I do? It was midnight."

Mr. Short then asked the witness how she came to go to the Wellington hotel February 17, following the alleged attack in the bathroom.

"Mr. O'Donnell came to my house with a man in an automobile, and told me Ella Gingles was being murdered in the Wellington hotel," replied Mrs. Linderman.

Then came some testimony calculated to embarrass Attorney O'Donnell.

"You went direct to Ella Gingles' room, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"She was in bed?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Mr. O'Donnell was sitting near the bed?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Mr. O'Donnell had his arms around Miss Gingles?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Ella Gingles had her arms around Mr. O'Donnell?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who went with you to the room?"

"Miss Joyce."

"Oh, you didn't go direct to the Wellington hotel from your home to the Wellington when you heard that Ella Gingles was being murdered?"

"No. I went first to Mr. O'Donnell's office."

"You say Ella Gingles was a raving maniac?"

"Yes. She acted as if she were under the influence of some dope."

"Dope? Where did you hear that word?"

"I read it in the medical books," was the surprising answer.

"Did Ella Gingles talk to Mr. O'Donnell?"

"Yes."

"What did she call him?"

"Mr. O'Donnell."

"Did she call him by his first name?"

"No, sir."

"How long were you in this room?"

"An hour, at least."

"Nobody suggested that she be sent to a hospital?"

"Did a physician come?"

"Yes."

"What did he do?"

"Ordered us all to leave the room."

"Did all go out?"

"I think so."

"Do you remember handling the cords with which Ella Gingles was tied?"

"Yes."

"How did you know she had been tied and that those were the cords?"

"A policeman told me."

"Were there any books in Miss Gingles' trunk?"

"Yes; I saw several books."

"Don't you know that Ella Gingles claims she never read but one book in her life, and that one of Dickens' novels?"

"No; I don't know anything about that."

"Did you know that Miss Gingles was starving between January 4 and February 16?"

"Yes; I heard she was hungry."

"Did you give her anything to eat?"

"Yes; several times I gave her coffee and toast. I knew she had no money."

"You would have given her money if you knew she were starving in your home?"

"I had no money, but I didn't take her room money."

A sharp clash took place between Attorney O'Donnell and Judge Brentano when the lawyer objected to one of Prosecutor Short's rapid-fire questions.

"I'll rule it out if you are invoking the strict rules of evidence, but it is pretty late to invoke them now," said Judge Brentano.

"I'll invoke the rule and take exception to the court's remark," answered the attorney.

"Save your exception," retorted Judge Brentano.

A few minutes later Mr. O'Donnell began questioning Mrs. Linderman regarding the letter which was received by Miss Joyce and telling of her alleged tortures which resulted in her being found bound and gagged in a Wellington hotel bathroom.

"I object! This isn't proper. I'm invoking the strict rules now," said Mr. Short.

"Sustained," said Judge Brentano.

"Give me the letter, then," snapped Mr. O'Donnell.

"Say please," replied Mr. Short, holding the letter teasingly.

"Please. Being attorney for the Chinese, I'll 'kow-tow' to you," said Mr. O'Donnell, solemnly making the Chinese salutation to royalty.

A few minutes later Mr. Short objected again.

"That's only a self-serving declaration," he declared.

"Who does it serve?" sarcastically inquired Mr. O'Donnell.

"It serves you," was the prosecutor's quick retort.

"Oh, indict me, why don't you?" rejoined Mr. O'Donnell.

"I will if I get anything on you."

"Yes, and you probably will whether you get anything on me or not," said Mr. O'Donnell, angrily.

"Yes—oh, no, I won't," and Mr. Short corrected himself quickly.

Belle Carson, 32 Goethe street, was then called and swore that Ella Gingles had gone to her room on the night of January 4 and that the girl had asked her about getting a policeman.

"I told her the names of two judges I knew."

Miss Carson told how Ella Gingles had brought some lace to her room and told her how Irish lace was made. Miss Carson at that time had a room at 474 La Salle avenue.

"I went to Miss Gingles' room and saw the laces which she was making."

"Were they large or small?"

"Small."

Tom Taggart, the Indiana politician, and former Democratic national committeeman, appeared as a voluntary witness to clear his name of charges made in the defense of Ella Gingles.

Mr. Taggart was treated with the utmost deference. Other witnesses may have been "ragged" by counsel for both sides, but Taggart was immune from even being asked to repeat his testimony or to give any explanations.

Mr. Taggart told a straightforward story and it consisted mainly in denying that he knew Ella Gingles or that he had ever known Agnes Barrett except in a business way through her lace business at French Lick Springs, Indiana.

The rest of his testimony was given over to proving that he is an utterly unsophisticated Indianian, and when asked about the alleged "white slave" traffic he innocently asked:

"What is a 'white slave'?"

Mr. Short gave the definition, without even cracking a smile.

When Mr. Taggart had been enlightened he declared that there were no "white slaves" in his hotel in French Lick.

"We don't let any bad characters stay in the hotel if we know them. My hotel is perfectly respectable; it is patronized by the best people in the United States, from Maine to California," he declared.

Mr. O'Donnell was equally careful not to ruffle the temper or feelings of the witness. He asked a few perfunctory questions and said, "That is all, Mr. Taggart."

Mr. Taggart, however, wanted to talk some more. Turning to the court, he said:

"Your Honor, I came here as a voluntary witness."

"Of course you did," put in Mr. Short.

"And I wanted to vindicate my name. There was so much said in the papers when Miss Gingles made her statement—I just wanted to come and put things right," was the gist of the explanation volubly made by Mr. Taggart.

It developed that Mr. Taggart has kept two detectives employed since the opening of the trial to report to him the developments, especially as they related to the use of his name in the testimony.

Dr. H. A. Watson, 4358 Lake avenue, and house physician at the Wellington hotel, followed Mr. Taggart on the witness stand.

"On February 17, were you called to attend Ella Gingles?"

"I object!" shouted Attorney O'Shaughnessey.

"On what grounds?" asked Judge Brentano.

"It isn't relevant to the issue," replied Mr. O'Shaughnessey.

"If this case had been tried on merely relevant issues it would have been finished in twenty minutes," retorted the court.

"Did you go to the bathroom on the fifth floor of the hotel?"

"Yes."

"What did you see?"

"The transom of the bathroom had been taken out and the door opened from the inside. On the floor lay a girl. One knee was tied and one foot fastened to the foot of the bathtub. Both hands were tied."

"Were they slip knots?"

"No. Hard knots. The feet were tied with cords and the knee with a stocking."

"What was her condition?"

"She was not unconscious. The pupils of the eyes were widely dilated. I asked her who her friends were and she asked me to send for Captain O'Brien."

"What did she say?"

"She was crying, as hysterical people do. She kept saying, 'They threw pepper in my eyes.'"

"'I can't drink any more wine.' She also said she was a friend of Mr. O'Donnell."

"What did you do?"

"I examined to see if she had been attacked, and found there were no such indications. I cut her loose and found she wasn't in a bad way. Her pulse was good and she did not need medicine."

"How about her wounds?"

"They were scratches, and not cuts."

"When we took her to a room she kept crying and said, 'They cut me! They threw pepper in my eyes and put me in a cab.'"

"We object to this form of questioning," said Mr. Short.

"The objection is sustained. The court will state why. You are asking questions, Mr. O'Donnell, on matters that nobody can testify to unless you take the stand yourself."

"Your honor," shouted the Irish lawyer, "I don't have to take the stand, sir. My good wife will take it."

"Very good; then proceed," answered Judge Brentano.

"Now, as a matter of fact, did you not see this girl lying there on that bed in a semi-conscious condition, so far from rational that I was compelled to shake her to make her recognize me?"

"I saw you shake her. She did not appear to me irrational apart from the hysteria."

"What position was Miss Gingles in when you found her in the bathroom?" resumed Mr. Short, again taking the witness.

"She was lying on her right side and her body stretched from one end of the bathtub. Her feet were tied to the iron pipe under the stationary bowl. Her hands were tied to the iron foot at the end of the tub."

"Did you know Miss Gingles before?"

"No. I never saw her before."

"Was there anything much the matter with her aside from being hysterical? Did you see the scratches on her arms and body?"

"Yes. Those scratches were very superficial. They did not more than penetrate the first skin."

"Did you see a liquid in the bathroom?"

"Yes. I thought it was wine. Also there was a little bottle of laudanum."

"Now, if this girl had taken laudanum, what would have been the condition of the pupils of her eyes?"

"They would have been very much contracted."

By Mr. O'Donnell: "And tell us, had she a cut on the inside of the thigh, running crosswise?"

"Yes, she had such a cut."

"There were many cuts, altogether?"

"I don't recall precisely how many."

Mr. O'Donnell dramatically seized Ella Gingles by the hand, almost dragged her to the witness chair, and then demanded explosively:

"Did you see this cut, and this one, and that one and that one? Did you really see any cuts?"

"Yes. I saw several cuts, but I cannot say that these are the scars from them."

"Now, how many cuts did you find?"

"As I remember it, there were several on the arms and one on the leg."

"Which leg?"

"I do not recall."

"Did you see other bruises and injuries on the girl's body?"

"Oh, I remember generally that she was cut and scratched slightly, but I did not regard any of the injuries as serious."

"Do you know that Ella Gingles had ten wounds altogether?"

"All I recall I have told you."

"How long were you in the bathroom with Ella Gingles before you untied her?"

"Not more than a few minutes."

"Now, about this pink baby ribbon Mr. Short is trying to make out Ella was tied with. Didn't you see me take it out of her nightgown?"

"I don't remember."

"Well, I took it out of her neck-band because she was tearing at herself, didn't I?"

"Oh, I can't tell that."

"Did you see me take the gag off her?"

"It was hanging under her chin when I first saw her, but I don't know who took it off."

"You remember a big crowd of newspaper men being in the room, don't you?"

"Many people were there. I did not know many of them."

"How does it come that you say you took Miss Gingles out of the bathroom at eleven p. m. when Captain O'Brien was called and told of her condition at ten?"

"Well, I understood that you had been there and gone before I reached there."

"Was one of her arms tied with a stocking?" asked Mr. O'Donnell.

"Yes."

"Had she her own stockings on?"

"No."

"What?"

"Well, I don't recall exactly. I don't think she had them both on."

"As a matter of fact, were there not three stockings? Did not Ella have her own stockings on?"

"Well, I won't be positive about it."

"Was she brought to the bed in the same condition you took her from the bathroom?"

"I believe she was."

"When you left you are sure she had on a black skirt?"

"Yes."

"And you are not sure whether she had on stockings or not?"

"No."

"Between the time you cut Ella Gingles loose and we got there were any clothes taken off or put on Ella Gingles?"

"Not that I can remember."

Dr. Watson proved to have a bad memory. He couldn't remember who took charge of the cords that bound Ella Gingles or what was done and said after the girl was found in the bathroom.

Professor Henry J. Cox of the United States Weather Bureau was then called by the state.

"What kind of a night was January 4, 1909?" asked Mr. Short.

"It was cloudy, and at eleven a. m. the temperature was fifty and at midnight it was forty-five."

"Did it rain that night?"

"No, sir."

"But there was a mist, wasn't there?" asked Mr. O'Donnell.

"No such record."

"What kind of clouds were there?"

"Low, hanging clouds."

"When did the sky clear?"

"At four a. m."

"Let me look at that book," said Mr. O'Donnell.

"I'm not a—what do you call it—meterologist?" suggested Mr. Cox.

"Read the meter, Pat," said Mr. Short.

"Here. What's this? Why, the record shows there was rain that night!" shouted Mr. O'Donnell.

Mr. Cox looked and saw the letter "T" opposite the temperature reading for nine p. m.

"That means 'trace.' Yes, there was a trace of rain at that hour," admitted Mr. Cox.

When the case closed and the arguments were through the courtroom was filled with wild, expectant people. It was a scene never equaled in Cook county. Even the scenes of confusion in the trial of Dora McDonald for the slaying of Webster Guerin were eclipsed.

The jury did not deliberate long. A few hours sufficed to reach a verdict. There was some contention on the part of one juror, but he was soon convinced that the verdict should be not guilty.

The scene when the verdict was handed to Judge Brentano was appalling.

The little Irish girl standing in front of the bar of justice, with eyes looking straight ahead into those of the judge; the auditors standing breathless awaiting the words that were to fall from his lips.

When the court read from the slip of paper, "We, the jury, find Ella Gingles not guilty," bedlam broke loose. Men and women, many of them richly dressed, rioted madly. Several of the clubwomen and members of the Irish Fellowship Society ran to the girl's side and hugged and kissed her.

For several minutes the court made no attempt to still the outbreak. He, too, grim and stern, and used to tragedies in the court, seemed to feel the joyfulness of the occasion.

"I'm so happy," the little lace-maker told her friends. "I was certain I would be freed. It was a horrible plot against me, but with all my friends working for me I knew I could not come to any harm."

After leaving the courtroom the girl was taken in a cab to the home of a wealthy clubwoman on the south side. That evening hundreds of supporters called to greet her and tell her of their joy at her acquittal. Several of them joined together and presented her with a small diamond brooch.

The next day the little lace-maker began making arrangements to return to her old home and to her parents, at Larne, Ireland. There with her family she expected to try to live down the horrors of her experiences in Chicago.