CHAPTER XX
"THE PENALTY IS DEATH!"
When court convened the following morning for the last act in theprolonged drama of Joe Newbolt's trial, the room was crowded even beyondthe congestion of the previous day.
People felt that Sam Lucas was not through with the accused lad yet;they wanted to be present for the final and complete crucifixion. It wasgenerally believed that, under the strain of Lucas's bombardment, Joewould break down that day.
The interference of Alice Price, unwarranted and beyond reason, thepublic said, had given the accused a respite, but nothing more. Whatevermistaken notion she had in doing it was beyond them, for it wasinconceivable that she could be wiser than another, and discover virtuesin the accused that older and wiser heads had overlooked. Well, afterthe rebuke that Judge Maxwell had given her, _she_ wouldn't meddle againsoon. It was more than anybody expected to see her in court again. No,indeed, they said; that would just about settle _her_.
Such a fine girl, too, and such a blow to her father. It was a piece offorwardness that went beyond the imagination of anybody in the town.Could it be that Alice Price had become tainted with socialism orwoman's rights, or any of those wild theories which roared around thewide world outside Shelbyville and created such commotion and unrest?Maybe some of those German doctrines had got into her head, such as thatyoung Professor Gobel, whom the regents discharged from the collegefaculty last winter, used to teach.
It was too bad; nearly everybody regretted it, for it took a girl a longtime to live down a thing like that in Shelbyville. But the greatestshock and disappointment of all was, although nobody would admit it,that she had shut Joe's mouth on the very thing that the public ear wasitching to hear. She had cheated the public of its due, and taken thefood out of its mouth when it was ravenous. That was past forgiveness.
Dark conjectures were hatched, therefore, and scandalous hints were settraveling. Mothers said, well, they thanked their stars that she hadn'tmarried _their_ sons; and fathers philosophized that you never couldtell how a filly would turn out till you put the saddle on her and triedher on the road. And the public sighed and gasped and shook its head,and was comfortably shocked and satisfyingly scandalized.
The sheriff brought the prisoner into court that morning with freehands. Joe's face seemed almost beatific in its exalted serenity as hesaluted his waiting mother with a smile. To those who had seen the graypallor of his strained face yesterday, it appeared as if he had cast hisskin during the night, and with it his harassments and haunting fears,and had come out this morning as fresh and unscarred as a child.
Joe stood for a moment running his eyes swiftly over the room. When theyfound the face they sought a warm light shot into them as if he hadturned up the wick of his soul. She was not so near the front as on theday before, yet she was close enough for eye to speak to eye.
People marked the exchange of unspoken salutations between them, andnudged each other, and whispered: "There she is!" They wondered how shewas going to cut up today, and whether it would not end for her bygetting herself sent to jail, along with that scatter-feathered youngcrow whom she seemed to have taken into her heart.
Ollie was present, although Joe had not expected to see her, he knew notwhy. She was sitting in the first row of benches, so near him he couldhave reached over and taken her hand. He bowed to her; she gave him asickly smile, which looked on her pale face like a dim breaking of sunthrough wintry clouds.
To the great surprise and greater disappointment of the public inattendance upon the trial, Sam Lucas announced, when court opened, thatthe state would not proceed with the cross-examination of the defendant.Hammer rose with that and stated that the defense rested. He had no morewitnesses to call.
Hammer wore a hopeful look over his features that morning, a reflection,perhaps, of his client's unworried attitude. He had not been successfulin his attempt to interview Alice Price, although he had visited herhome the night before. Colonel Price had received him with the air ofone who stoops to contact with an inferior, and assured him that he wasdelegated by Miss Price--which was true--to tell Mr. Hammer that sheknew nothing favorable to his client's cause; that her caution in hismoment of stress had nothing behind it but the unaccountable impulse ofa young and sympathetic girl.
Hammer accepted that explanation with a large corner of reservation inhis mind. He knew that she had visited the jail, and it was his opinionthat his client had taken her behind the door of his confidence, whichhe had closed to his attorney. Alice Price knew something, she must knowsomething, Hammer said. On that belief he based his intention of amotion for a new trial in case of conviction. He would advance thecontention that new evidence had been discovered; he would then getAlice Price into a corner by herself somewhere and make her tell all sheknew.
That was why Hammer smiled and felt quite easy, and turned over in hismind the moving speech that he had prepared for the jury. He was glad ofthe opportunity which that great gathering presented. It was a plowedfield waiting the grain of Hammer's future prosperity.
Hammer kept turning his eyes toward Alice Price, where she sat in themiddle of the court-room beside the colonel. He had marked an air ofuneasiness, a paleness as of suppressed anxiety in the girl's face. Nowand then he saw her look toward the door where Captain Taylor stoodguard, in his G. A. R. uniform today, as if it were a gala occasion anddemanded decorations.
For whom could she be straining and watching? Hammer wondered. Ah, nodoubt about it, that girl knew a great deal more of the inner-working ofhis client's mind than he did. But she couldn't keep her secret. He'dget it out of her after filing his motion for a new trial--already hewas looking ahead to conviction, feeling the weakness of his case--andvery likely turn the sensation of a generation loose in Shelbyville whenhe called her to the witness-stand. That was the manner of Hammer'sspeculations as he watched her turning her eyes toward the door.
Ollie sat beside her mother, strangely downcast for all the brighteningof her affairs. Joe had passed through the fire and come out true,although he might have faltered and betrayed her if it had not been forthe sharp warning of Alice Price, cast to him like a rope to a drowningman. Like Hammer, like a thousand others, she wondered why Alice haduttered that warning. What did she know? What did she suspect? It wascertain, above everything else, that she knew Joe was guiltless. Sheknew that he was not maintaining silence on his own account.
How did she know? Had Joe told her? Ollie struggled with the doubt andperplexity of it, and the fear which lay deep in her being made her longto cringe there, and shield her face as from fire. She could not dothat, any more than she had succeeded in her desire to remain away fromcourt that morning. There was no need for her there, her testimony wasin, they were through with her. Yet she could not stay away. She must bethere for the final word, for the last sight of Joe's prison-whiteface.
She must whip herself to sit there as boldly as innocence and cheat thepublic into accepting the blanched cheek of fear for the wearing strainof sorrow; she must sit there until the end. Then she could rise up andgo her way, no matter how it turned out for Joe. She could leave therewith her guilty secret in her heart and the shame of her cowardiceburning like a smothered coal in her breast.
It would hurt to know that Joe had gone to prison for her sake, eventhough he once had stepped into the doorway of her freedom and cut offher light. The knowledge that Alice Price loved him, and that Joe lovedher, for she had read the secret in their burning eyes, would make itdoubly hard. She would be cheating him of liberty and robbing him oflove. Still, they would be no more than even, at that, said she, with arecurring sweep of bitterness. Had Joe not denied them both to her? Allof this she turned in her mind as she sat waiting for court to open thatsomber morning.
The rain in yesterday's threat had come; it was streaking the windowsgray, and the sound of the wind was in the trees, waving their barelimbs as in fantastic grief against the dull clouds. There was nocomfort in youth and health and prettiness of face and form; no pride inp
ossession of lands and money, when a hot and tortuous thing likeconscience was lying so ill-concealed behind the thin wall of herbreast.
She thought bitterly of Curtis Morgan, who had failed her so completely.Never again in the march of her years would she need the support of hishand and comforting affection as she needed it then. But he had goneaway and forgotten, like a careless hunter who leaves his uncovered fireafter him to spring in the wind and go raging with destructive cursethrough the forest. He had struck the spark to warm himself a night inits pleasurable glow; the hands of ten thousand men could not quench itsflame today.
Judge Maxwell had been conferring with the lawyers in the case these fewminutes, setting a limit to their periods of oration before the jury, towhich both sides agreed after the usual protestations. The court-roomwas very quiet; expectancy sat upon the faces of all who waited when SamLucas, prosecuting attorney, rose and began his address to the jury.
He began by calling attention to what he termed the "peculiar atrocityof this crime," and the circumstances surrounding it. He pointed outthat there could have been no motive of revenge behind the act, for theevidence had shown, even the testimony of the defendant himself hadshown, that the relations between Chase and his bondman were friendly.Isom Chase had been kind to him; he had reposed his entire trust in him,and had gone away to serve his country as a juryman, leaving everythingin his hands.
"And he returned from that duty, gentlemen," said he, "to meet death atthe treacherous hands of the man whom he had trusted, there upon his ownthreshold.
"When Isom Chase was found there by his neighbor, Sol Greening,gentlemen, this bag of money was clasped to his lifeless breast. Wheredid it come from? What was Isom Chase doing with it there at that hourof the night? This defendant has testified that he does not know. DidIsom Chase carry it with him when he entered the house? Not likely.
"You have heard the testimony of the bankers of this city to the effectthat he carried no deposit with any of them. Isom Chase had returned tohis home that fatal night from serving on a jury in this court-house.That duty held him there until past ten o'clock, as the records show.Where did that bag of gold come from? What was it doing there? Thisdefendant has sworn that he never saw it before, that he knows nothingat all about it. Yet he admits that 'words' passed between him and IsomChase that night.
"What those words were he has locked up in the secret darkness of hisguilty breast. He has refused to tell you what they were, refusedagainst the kindly counsel of the court, the prayers of his aged mother,the advice of his own attorney, and of his best friends. Joe Newbolt hasrefused to repeat those words to you, gentlemen of the jury, but I willtell you what the substance of them was."
The prosecutor made a dramatic pause; he flung his long, fair locks backfrom his forehead; he leveled his finger at Joe as if he held a weaponaimed to shoot him through the heart.
Mrs. Newbolt looked at the prosecutor searchingly. She could notunderstand why the judge allowed him to say a thing like that. Joedisplayed no indication of the turmoil of his heart. But the light wasfading out of his face, the gray mist of pain was sweeping over itagain.
"Those words, gentlemen of the jury," resumed the prosecutor, "werewords of accusation from the lips of Isom Chase when he entered thatdoor and saw this man, his trusted servant, making away with that bag ofmoney, the hoarded savings of Isom Chase through many an industriousyear.
"I tell you, gentlemen of the jury, that this defendant, afraid of theconsequences of his act when he found himself discovered in the theft,and was compelled to surrender the money to its lawful owner--I tell youthen, in that evil moment of passion and disappointment, this defendantsnatched that rifle from the wall and shot honest, hardworking old IsomChase down like a dog!"
"No, no!" cried Mrs. Newbolt, casting out her hands in passionatedenial. "Joe didn't do it!"
"Your honor," began the prosecutor, turning to the court with anexpression of injury in his voice which was almost tearful, "am I to beinterrupted----"
"Madam, you must not speak again," admonished the judge. "Mr. Sheriff,see that the order is obeyed."
The sheriff leaned over.
"Ma'am, I'll have to put you out of here if you do that agin," said he.
Joe placed his hand on his mother's shoulder and whispered to her. Shenodded, as if in obedience to his wish, but she sat straight and alert,her dark eyes glowing with anger as she looked at the prosecutor.
The prosecutor was composing himself to proceed.
"This defendant had robbed old Isom Chase of his hoarded gold, gentlemenof the jury, and that was not all. I tell you, gentlemen, Joe Newbolthad robbed that trusting old man of more than his gold. He had robbedhim of his sacred honor!"
Hammer entered vociferous objections. Nothing to maintain this chargehad been proved by the state, said he. He insisted that the jury beinstructed to disregard what had been said, and the prosecutoradmonished by the court to confine himself to the evidence.
The court ruled accordingly.
"There has been ample evidence on this point," contended the prosecutor."The conspiracy of silence entered into between this defendant and thewidow of Isom Chase--entered into and maintained throughout thistrial--is sufficient to brand them guilty of this charge before theworld. More; when Sol Greening's wife arrived a few minutes after theshooting, Mrs. Chase was fully dressed, in a dress, gentlemen of thejury, that it would have taken her longer to put on----"
Merely surmises, said Hammer. If surmises were to be admitted beforethat court and that jury, said he, he could surmise his client out ofthere in two minutes. But the court was of the opinion that the evidencewarranted the prosecutor there. He was allowed to proceed.
"Ollie Chase could not have dressed herself that way in those fewintervening minutes. She had made her preparations long before thattragic hour; she was ready and waiting--waiting for what?
"Gentlemen, I will tell you. Joe Newbolt had discovered the hiding-placeof his employer's money. He had stolen it, and was preparing to departin secrecy in the dead of night; and I tell you, gentlemen of the jury,he was not going alone!"
"Oh, what a scandalous lie!" said Mrs. Newbolt in a horrified voicewhich, low-pitched and groaning that it was carried to the farthestcorner of that big, solemn room.
The outburst caused a little movement in the room, attended byconsiderable noise and some shifting of feet. Some laughed, for thereare some to laugh everywhere at the most sincere emotions of the humanbreast. The judge rapped for order. A flush of anger mounted to hisusually passive face; he turned to the sheriff with a gesture ofcommand.
"Remove that woman from the room, Mr. Sheriff, and retain her incustody!" said he.
The sheriff came forward hastily and took Mrs. Newbolt by the arm. Shestood at his touch and stretched out her hands to the judge.
"I didn't mean to say it out loud, Judge Maxwell, but I thought it sohard, I reckon, sir, that it got away. Anybody that knows my Joe----"
"Come on, ma'am," the sheriff ordered.
Joe was on his feet. The sheriff's special deputy put his hands on theprisoner's shoulders and tried to force him down into his seat. Thedeputy was a little man, sandy, freckled, and frail, and his efforts,ludicrously eager, threw the court-room into a fit of unseemly laughter.The little man might as well have attempted to bend one of the oakcolumns which supported the court-house portico.
Judge Maxwell was properly angry now. He rapped loudly, and threatenedpenalties for contempt. When the mirth quieted, which it did with asuddenness almost tragic, Joe spoke. "I wish to apologize to you formother's words, sir," said he, addressing the judge, inclining his headslightly to the prosecuting attorney afterward, as if to include him,upon second thought. "She was moved out of her calm and dignity by thestatement of Mr. Lucas, sir, and I give you my word of honor that she'llsay no more. I'd like to have her here by me, sir, if you'd grant methat favor. You can understand, sir, that a man needs a friend at hisside in an hour like this."
Judge Maxwell's face
was losing its redness of wrath; the hard lineswere melting out of it. He pondered a moment, looking with gatheredbrows at Joe. The little deputy had given over his struggle, and nowstood with one hand twisted in the back of Joe's coat. The sheriff kepthis hold on Mrs. Newbolt's arm. She lifted her contrite face to thejudge, tears in her eyes.
"Very well," said the judge, "the court will accept your apology, andhold you responsible for her future behavior. Madam, resume your seat,and do not interrupt the prosecuting attorney again."
Mrs. Newbolt justified Joe's plea by sitting quietly while theprosecutor continued. But her interruption had acted like an explosionin the train of his ideas; he was so much disconcerted by it that hefinished rather tamely, reserving his force, as people understood, forhis closing speech.
Hammer rose in consequence, and plunged into the effort of his life. Hepainted the character of Isom Chase in horrible guise; he pointed outhis narrowness, his wickedness, his cruelty, his quickness to lift hishand. He wept and he sobbed, and splashed tears all around him.
It was one of the most satisfying pieces of public oratory ever heard inShelbyville, from the standpoint of sentiment, and the view of theunschooled. But as a legal and logical argument it was as foolish andfutile as Hammer's own fat tears. He kept it up for an hour, and hemight have gone on for another if his tears had not given out. Withouttears, Hammer's eloquence dwindled and his oratory dried.
Mrs. Newbolt blessed him in her heart, and the irresponsible andvacillating public wiped its cheeks clean of its tears and settled downto have its emotions warped the other way. Everybody said that Hammerhad done well. He had made a fine effort, it showed what they hadcontended for all along, that Hammer had it naturally in him, and wasbound to land in congress yet.
When the prosecutor resumed for the last word he seemed to be in avicious temper. He seemed to be prompted by motives of revenge, ratherthan justice. If he had been a near relative of the deceased, under theobligation of exacting life for life with his own hands, he could nothave shown more vindictive personal resentment against the accused. Hereverted to Joe's reservation in his testimony.
"There is no question in my mind, gentlemen of the jury," said he, "thatthe silence behind which this defendant hides is the silence of guilt,and that silence brands him blacker than any confession that his tonguecould make.
"'Words passed between us,' and 'it was between him and me.' That,gentlemen of the jury, is the explanation this defendant gives, theonly, the weak, the obviously dishonest explanation, that he ever hasoffered, or that the kindly admonishment of this court could draw fromhis lips. Guilt sits on his face; every line of his base countenance isa confession; every brutal snarl from his reluctant tongue is testimonyof his evil heart. He was a thief, and, when he was caught, he murdered.'Out of his own mouth he has uttered his condemnation,' and there is butone penalty fitting this hideous crime--the penalty of death!
"Never before has the fair name of our county been stained by such anatrocious crime; never before has there been such a conspiracy betweenthe guilty to defeat the ends of justice in this moral and respectedcommunity. I call upon you, gentlemen of the jury, for the safety of ourhouseholds and the sanctity of our hearths, to bring in your verdict ofguilty under the indictment.
"It is a solemn and awful thing to stand here in the presence of theAlmighty and ask the life of one of his creatures, made by Him in Hisown image and endowed by Him with reason and superiority above all elsethat moves on the earth or in the waters under it. But this man, JoeNewbolt, has debased that image and abused that reason and superioritywhich raises him above the beasts of the field. He has murdered adefenseless old man; he has, by that act and deed, forfeited his rightto life and liberty under the law."
The prosecutor made one of his effective pauses. There was the stillnessof midnight in the crowded court-room. The sound of dashing rain wasloud on the window-panes, the hoarse voice of the gray old elm whichcombed the wind with its high-flung branches, was like the distant groanof the sea.
In that aching silence Ollie Chase turned suddenly, as if she had heardsomeone call her name. She started, her white face grew whiter. Butnobody seemed conscious of her presence, except the prosecutor, whowheeled upon her and leveled his accusing finger at her where she sat.
There was the bearing of sudden and reckless impulse in his act. Hesurely had not meditated that bold challenge of one who had passed underhis merciless hand, and was now, according to all accepted procedure,beyond his reach and his concern. But Sam Lucas did that unusual thing.He stood pointing at her, his jaw trembling as if the intensity of hispassion had palsied his tongue.
"Gentlemen of the jury, what part this woman played in that dark night'swork the world may never know," said he. "But the world is not blind,and its judgments are usually justified by time. This woman, OllieChase, and this defendant have conspired to hold silence between them,in what hope, to what unholy end, God alone knows. But who will believethe weak and improbable story this woman has told on the witness-stand?Who is so blind that he cannot see the stain of her infidelity and theghastly blight of that midnight shadow upon her quaking soul?"
He turned from her abruptly. Hammer partly rose, as if to enter anobjection. He seemed to reconsider it, and sat down. Ollie shrankagainst her mother's shoulders, trembling. The older woman, fierce as adragon in the sudden focus of the crowd's attention and eyes, fixed inone shifting sweep from the prosecuting attorney to her daughter, puther arm about Ollie and comforted her with whispered words.
The prosecutor proceeded, solemnly:
"I tell you, gentlemen, that these two people, Ollie Chase and JosephNewbolt, alone in that house that night, alone in that house for twodays before this tragedy darkened it, before the blood of gray old IsomChase ran down upon its threshold, these two conspired in their guilt tohide the truth.
"If this woman would open her lips, if this woman would break the sealof this guilty compact and speak, the mystery of this case woulddissolve, and the heroic romance which this defendant is trying to putover the squalid facts of his guilt would turn out only a sordid storyof midnight lust and robbery. If conscience would trouble this woman tospeak, gentlemen of the jury--but she has no conscience, and she has noheart!"
He turned again to Ollie, savagely; her mother covered her with her arm,as if to protect her from a blow.
"There she cowers in her guilty silence, in what hope God alone knows,but if she would speak----"
"_I will speak!_" Ollie cried.
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