Mrs. Balfame: A Novel

by Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  It was two o'clock and ten minutes. The eleven remaining spectators, oneof them a woman in evening dress, were sound asleep. The sheriff waspacing up and down with his hands behind his back, his perturbed glanceranging between the clock and the door leading into the jury-room.Occasionally he slipped on a bit of the debris and kicked it aside. Thereporters slumbered at their tables or stared moodily ahead. One gnawedhis pencil; another tore leaves of copy paper into morsels andlaboriously built something that looked like a child's house of blocks.Outside it was deathly still. The snow was falling softly. It was tooearly for a cock-crow. Occasionally some one snored. The footfalls ofthe sheriff made no noise.

  Suddenly every reporter present sat up with the scent of blood in hisnostrils. Their ears twitched. The fumes blew out of their highlyorganised brains like mist before a bracing wind. An automobile wasdashing down the road, its horn shrieking a series of brief peremptorynotes, which sounded like "Wait! Wait! Wait!"

  It came to an abrupt halt before the Court-house door, and almostsimultaneously Wagstaff, who had wandered forth once more, ran up thestairs and into the court-room.

  "There's something in the wind, boys," he cried, smoothing his hair andsteering carefully for his chair. "Rush, Broderick, three other men,Sarah Austin and Alys Crumley, were in that car. They've all gonestraight to the Judge. Something big is going to break, as sure asdeath."

  The sheriff retired hastily to the region behind the court-room.

  The young men adjusted their chairs, arranged their copy-paper neatly,and sharpened their pencils. Mrs. Balfame's friends went forward to thedoor behind the jury-box which led to the tunnel. Even the sleepyspectators sat up nervously.

  Ten minutes passed. Then the sheriff, his face now stolid and important,bustled in and across to the jury-room, opened the door and summoned theoccupants. In every stage of dishabille they filed sullenly in; thesheriff went through the tunnel for Mrs. Balfame.

  The Judge, without his gown and his hair ruffled, was in his seat whenthe prisoner entered. She came hurriedly, her great repose broken, herface grey. Rush, who had entered behind the Judge, met her andwhispered:

  "You are free. But you will need all your self-control. Don't let themhave a story in the morning papers of a breakdown at the last moment."

  Mrs. Battle, Mrs. Gifning and Mrs. Cummack, who were far more excitedthan she, took heart at his words, patted their dishevelled hair andmotioned to their husbands, summoned from the Dobton Inn, to drawcloser. Whatever the issue, they felt the need of masculine support,albeit they scowled at the obvious form that masculine needs had taken.

  Mrs. Balfame had looked dully at Rush as he spoke. Between fatigue andthe nervous strain of maintaining the superwoman pitch for the benefitof her friends, her mind was confused. She could only mutter, "I'll try.Is--is--it really--all right?"

  "You'll be free and for ever exonerated in half an hour."

  Mrs. Balfame sank back in her chair, thinking that half an hour was along time, a terribly long time. How long did it usually take a jury topronounce a prisoner not guilty?

  Sitting before the table in front of her were two men whom she vaguelyrecognised. Behind them was the man she hated most now that her husbandwas dead, the reporter Broderick. And beside him were Alys Crumley andMiss Austin. What did it all mean? She drew a sigh. It didn't mattermuch. She was so tired, so tired. When it was over she would sleep for aweek and see no one--not even Dwight Rush.

  The district attorney was on his feet, his face as black as if in thefirst stages of a poisonous fever. Neither he nor any one in thecourt-room threw Mrs. Balfame a glance. All eyes were on the Judge, whorose and made a short address to the jury.

  "New evidence has just been brought to the notice of the court," hesaid. "It is of sufficient importance to warrant its immediateconsideration, and the case is therefore reopened for this purpose. Itis for you, however, to pass upon its worth. Mr. Rush will take thestand."

  "May it please your honour," shrieked Mr. Gore, "I protest that thiscase has already been submitted to the jury, and that it is altogetherout of order to reopen it."

  "That is a matter within the discretion of the court," replied theJudge sharply; he had slept but fitfully and was not in his accustomedmood of remote judicial calm. "Mr. Rush will take the stand and proceedwithout interruption."

  Rush ascended to the witness-box and was sworn. Mrs. Balfame half rose,dropped back into her chair with another sigh. There could be but oneexplanation of this strange procedure. Rush had discovered that the jurywas hostile and was about to incriminate himself. She could do nothing.She had brought up the subject only yesterday, and he had replied curtlythat he had taken the pistol from his safe and hidden it elsewhere. Andshe was too tired to feel that anything mattered much but the prospectof a week's rest. Later she could exonerate him in one way or another.

  The newspaper men were as sober and alert as if the hour were ten in themorning. With their abnormal news-sense they anticipated a completesurprise. To do them justice, they were quite indifferent to thepossibility of Mrs. Balfame's release. If it were news, Big News, thatwas all that mattered.

  As Rush took the witness-chair, the lines in his pallid face looked asif cut to the bone, but he addressed the jury in strong clear tones. Hetold them that two days since he had been informed by Miss Alys Crumleythat Dr. Anna Steuer had positive knowledge bearing upon the crime forwhich Mrs. Balfame had been unjustly arrested and thrust into jail, butthat they were afraid to tell her of her friend's tragic situation lestit shatter her slender hold on life. She was very ill again after arelapse, although quite conscious, and their only hope was in perfectpeace of mind.

  If she recovered, Mrs. Dissosway, in whom alone she had confided, hadfelt sure she would give the testimony which must set Mrs. Balfame atliberty if the jury convicted her. On the other hand, Mrs. Dissosway hadpromised her niece that if the doctors agreed that Dr. Steuer's deathwas but a matter of hours and there was a real danger of Mrs. Balfame'sconviction, she would tell the dying woman the truth and take theconsequences.

  Shortly after the case had gone to the jury, Miss Crumley and Miss SarahAustin had gone out to the hospital, satisfied that Dr. Anna had but afew hours to live. But it was not until Miss Crumley had persuaded herrelative that the delayed verdict of the jury meant conviction for Mrs.Balfame that the superintendent, who was a lifelong friend of Dr. AnnaSteuer, had given Miss Crumley permission to send for a stenographer andthe witnesses she desired. Miss Crumley had therefore telephoned at onceto Mr. Broderick, as she knew he would be sure to be in or near thecourtroom, and asked him to bring the witness and a stenographer.

  They had reached the hospital in fifteen minutes. Dr. MacDougal had metthem at the door of Dr. Steuer's room and informed them that the news ofher friend's predicament had been broken to the patient, afteradministering stimulants, and that she had consented immediately to makea statement.

  "It took her some time to make this statement," continued Mr. Rush. "Shewas very weak, and stimulants had to be given repeatedly. But in duecourse it was completed, signed, and witnessed by Mr. Broderick and thetwo physicians present. I shall read it to you with the permission ofthe court."

  He then read them the ante-mortem statement of Dr. Anna Steuer:

  "I shot David Balfame.

  "I make this statement at once lest I prove to be unable to add theexplanation of my motives, and I herewith sign it."

  Signed and witnessed.

  The statement continued:

  "I had known for a long time that my beloved friend's life with thiswretch was insupportable, but although I urged her repeatedly to divorcehim and she refused, it never entered my head to kill him nor any oneelse. I had spent my life trying to heal, and to give comfort where mypatient's sufferings were of the mind as well as of the body. I hadcarried Balfame through several gastric attacks, caused by hisdisreputable life, with as much professional enthusiasm as if he hadbeen the best of husbands. To have removed him d
uring one of these wouldhave been a simple matter.

  "But that day out at the Country Club when he insulted the loveliest andmost nearly perfect being on this earth, with the deliberate intent toruin her position--the little all she had in the world thatmattered--something snapped in my head. I almost struck him then andthere. And when, during the ride home, Enid for the first time told methe hideous details of her life with that man all the blood in my bodyseemed to surge up and through my brain. He deserved death, and onlydeath could free her. But how could this be accomplished? Too proud andtoo obdurate in her principles for the divorce-court, she was also toogentle and good and fastidious, in spite of her remarkable will, tostrike him down herself.

  "While waiting for a summons to the Houston farm, I paid several calls,and the last was at the Cummacks', one of the children being ill. As Icame downstairs from the nursery I heard the conversation at thetelephone--Balfame's drunken compliment to his wife. He said he wouldwalk home. It was then that the definite impulse came to me, and I actedwithout an instant's hesitation. I always carried a revolver, for I wasforced to take many long and lonely rides in my country practice. Idrove straight to the lane behind the Balfame place, left the car, putout the lights, and climbed the back fence. It was very dark, but I hadbeen familiar with the grounds all my life and I had no difficulty infinding the grove. I waited, moving about restlessly, for I wanted tohave it over and go out to the Houston farm.

  "He came after what had seemed to be hours of waiting, singing at thetop of his voice. Mr. Rush tells me there is talk of two pistols havingbeen fired that night, and that a bullet from a thirty-eight-calibrepistol entered a tree just to the left of the gate. I heard no one elsein the grove. My revolver was a forty-one and can be found in the drawerof my desk at home. I fired at Balfame the moment he reached the gate. Ivaguely remember seeing another figure almost beside him, but as Balfamefell I ran for the lane and my car. I had no intention of giving myselfup. I knew that the crime would be laid to political enemies, who, nodoubt, could produce alibis. This proved to be the case, and when Ibroke down and was carried to the hospital it was with the assurance ofpublic belief in gun-men as the perpetrators of the crime. That EnidBalfame, that serene and splendid woman, whose life has been a miracleof good taste and high sense of duty, would be accused never crossed mymind.

  "No, it is impossible for me to say with truth that I repent. I mighthave, once. But these last six months! Millions of men in the greatestcivilisations of earth are killing one another daily for no reasonwhatever save that man, who seeks to direct the destinies of the world,is a complete and pitiful failure. Why, pray, should a woman repenthaving broken one of his laws and removed one of the most worthless andabominable of his sex, who had made the life of a beloved friend pastenduring? Moreover, I have saved hundreds of lives at the risk of myown. I die in peace.

  "This statement is made with full knowledge of impending death andwithout hope of recovery."

  "This ante-mortem statement," concluded Mr. Rush, "was taken down inlonghand by the stenographer who sits below, and signed by Anna Steuer,M.D., of Elsinore, Brabant County, State of New York. It was witnessedby Drs. MacDougal and Meyers, who accompanied me from the hospital tothe Court-house. Mr. Broderick of the _New York News_, as I mentionedbefore, also heard the confession and affixed his signature."

  He handed the sheets to the jury and stepped down. For a moment therewas no sound but the scratching of pencils on the opposite side of theroom and the faint rustle of paper in the jury-box. Mrs. Balfame haddrawn her veil across her face and sat huddled in her chair.

  The two doctors and Broderick took the stand briefly, the formertestifying that Dr. Steuer had been of clear and sound mind when shemade and signed her statement. Then the district attorney stood up, andin lifeless tones--Dr. Anna had been his family's most cherishedfriend--asked if there was any prospect of the self-confessed criminalbeing examined further. Rush went over to Mrs. Balfame and pressed hishand hard upon her shoulder.

  "May it please your honour," he said, "Dr. Anna Steuer expired before weleft the hospital."

  Again there was a furious scratching of pens. Not a reporter glanced atMrs. Balfame. They had forgotten her existence. The Judge asked the juryif they wished to retire once more for deliberation. The foreman facedabout. The other eleven shook their heads with decision.

  The Judge dismissed them and congratulated the defendant, who had risenand stood clutching the back of her chair. The reporters raced oneanother down the stairs to the telegraph-offices and telephone-booths.

  It was physically impossible for Mrs. Balfame to faint, or to loseself-control for more than a moment at a time. She drew away from thefriends that crowded about her, one or two of the women hysterical.

  "I shall ask Mr. Rush to take me over to the jail for a few moments,"she said in her clear cold voice. "I must put a few things together, andI wish to have a few words alone with Mr. Rush." She turned to the dazedMr. Cummack. "Take Polly home," she said peremptorily. "Mr. Rush willdrive me over later."

  "All right, Enid." He tucked Mrs. Cummack under his arm. "Your room'sbeen ready for a week."

  As Rush was about to follow his client he turned abruptly and exchangeda long look with Alys Crumley. Both faces were pallid and drawn withfatigue but their eyes for that swift moment blazed with resentment anddespair.

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  When Rush and Mrs. Balfame reached the jail sitting-room shemechanically removed her heavy hat and veil and sank into a chair.

  "Is it true that Anna is dead?"

  Her voice was as toneless as the district attorney's had been.

  "Yes--and we can only be grateful."

  "And she did that for me--for _me_. How strange! How very, verystrange!"

  "It has been done before in the history of the world." Rush too was verytired.

  "But a woman--"

  "I fancy you were the romance of poor Anna's life. She indulged in nodreams of the usual sort, with her plain face and squat figure. No doubtshe had centred all her romantic yearnings and all her maternal cravingson you. She thought you perfect--unequalled--"

  "I! I!"

  She sprang to her feet and thrust her head forward, her eyes coming tolife with resentment and wonder.

  "What--_what_ am I that two people--two people like you and AnnaSteuer--should be ready to die for me? Why, I have never thought of amortal being but myself! Anna must have been born with dotage in herbrain. She knew me all my life. She saw me organise charities, give tothe poor what I could afford, find work for the deserving now andagain, and she heard me read absurd compositions before the Friday Clubupon the duty of Women to Society; but she must have known that all weremere details in my scheme of life and that I was the most selfishcreature that ever breathed."

  Rush shrugged his shoulders, although he was watching her with aquickened interest. "Why try to analyse? The gift to inspiredevotion--fascination--is as determinate as the gift to write a poem orcompose a symphony. It has existed in some of the worst men and womenthat have ever lived. You are not that--not by a long sight--"

  "Oh, no! I am not one of the worst women that have ever lived. Do youknow what I am, how I see myself to-night? I am merely a commonplacewoman everlastingly anxious to do the 'right thing.' That is thebeginning and the end of me, with the exception of a brief aberration--arelease under stress of those anti-social instincts that are deep inevery mortal and exhibited by every child that ever lived. Oh, I am oneof civilisation's proudest products, for I never had the slightestdifficulty with those inherited impulses before. Nor will they ever riseagain. I've even 'improved' during my long hours of solitude in thisroom, but it's all of a piece. I've not changed. We none of us do that.I shall live and die a commonplace woman trying to do the 'rightthing.'"

  "Oh--let us go now. You must rest. You are very tired."

  "I was. But it has passed. The shock of Anna's statement and deathbrought me up standing. I shall sail for Europe to-morrow, if there is aboat. It was Anna
's constant regret that she could not go to thebattlefields and nurse, but she would not leave those that depended uponher here. In some small measure I can take her place. They give a firstcourse in London I am told. And I am strong, very strong."

  She paused abruptly and moved forward and took his hand.

  "Good night and good-bye," she said. "I shall sleep here to-night. Andplease understand that you are free."

  "What do you mean?" Rush's face set like a mask, but the colour mounted.The grip of his hand was merely nervous, and when she withdrew hers hisunconsciously went to his hip and steadied itself.

  "I mean that so far as lies in my power I shall harm no one again aslong as I live. Moreover, I have seen how it was with you for some time,although I would not admit it, for I intended to marry you. Perhaps Ishould have done so if it had not been for Anna. It took that to lift mequite out of myself and enable me to see myself and all things relatingto me in their true proportions--for once. It is my moment--If I am everto have one. You no longer love me, and if you did I should not marryyou. I say nothing of the injustice to yourself--I could not take therisk of disillusioning you." She laughed a little nervously. "I fancy Ihave done that already. But it does not matter. Go and marry some girlnear your own age who will be a companion, not an ideal with heart andbrain as well as feet of clay."

  "You are excited," said Rush brusquely, although his heart washammering, and singing youth poured through his veins. "I shall leaveyou now--"

  "You will say good-bye to me now, and that is the last word. I'lltelephone my plans to Cummack in the morning. There is no reason for usto meet again. To me you will always be a very wonderful and beautifulmemory, for it is something--be sure I appreciate just what it doesmean--to have embodied a romantic illusion if only for an hour. Nowgood-bye once more; and find your real happiness as quickly as you can."

  She had opened the door. She pushed him gently out into the corridor,closed the door and locked it. Mrs. Balfame was alone with the crushingburden of her soul.