CHAPTER V.
HE IS TRIED IN THE BALANCE.
There was a pause in the little court-room when the formal proclamationsof the crier and clerk were ended.
"Are you guilty or not guilty, Robert Floyd?"
He bore the scrutiny of many hundred eyes calmly. Earnestness must havebeen the usual expression of his face, but today its flashing eyes andcurled upper lip controlled the aquiline features and made theirdominant aspect one of defiance.
He was olive-skinned, as his uncle may have been in his youth. His hairwas dark. Spots of dark red were burning in his cheek, and his voice,when he spoke, of a rich contralto quality, had some subtle affiliationwith darkness, too. Altogether a Roman soul, the unprejudiced observerwould have said, but somewhat lacking in the blitheness which is properto youth.
"Not guilty," the answer was recorded.
The spectators listened in a strained and oppressive silence. Within thebar sat old John Davidson, looking very sympathetic and not a littleperplexed as he reared his chair back against the railing. Through theopen door of an ante-room peeped the chubby form of InspectorMcCausland, cordially shaking hands with acquaintances and answering tothe sobriquet of "Dick." For professional reasons the inspector avoidedmaking his person known to the multitude, but once or twice he sent inmessages to the district attorney, and finally stepping to the door,caught his eye and beckoned him outside. Noah Bigelow had been sittingsilently at the prosecutor's desk, his prodigious black beard sweepinghis breast and his tufted eyebrows leveled steadily at the prisoner, asif to read his soul. When he rose at McCausland's signal the entirecourt-room followed his broad back receding through the door of thechamber.
"The prisoner," said the judge, "declines the advice of counsel andoffers himself for examination unaided. He is hereby warned of his rightunder the law to challenge any question which may incriminate or tend toincriminate him. The court will see that this right is protected. We areready for the evidence."
"Miss Bertha Lund," called Badger. She arose, the same tidy, buxommaiden as ever, but pale and with traces of tears. An oath wasadministered and the young woman motioned to the witness-box.
"How long have you been a servant in the Arnold house, Miss Lund?" askedBadger, who was conducting the case for the government.
"Going on six years."
"And you have known the prisoner all this time?"
"Of course."
"You were in at the time of the fire, on Saturday?"
"I was."
"And gave the alarm, did you not?"
"I did."
Bertha's rising inflection had hardly varied in the last three answers,and her blue eyes were riveted on the lawyer's.
"Won't you tell the court how you were occupied prior to your discoveryof the fire?"
Thus directed, Bertha half-inclined her person toward the judge.
"Part of the time I was dusting the study and part of the time I wasupstairs."
"What were you doing upstairs?"
"Nothing, except looking out of the window into the street."
"What window?"
"Mr. Robert's."
"And what street?"
"Cazenove street."
"Was any one else in the house at that time?"
"Not after Ellen went out."
"You are sure Ellen had gone out?"
"Well, what do you mean by sure?"
"What made you think she had gone out?"
"She told me she was going out. She was dressed in her street dress andI heard the door slam. That's three reasons."
"You heard the door slam? The front door, I suppose? There is only onedoor?"
"No, there's the back door, leading into the passageway."
"And where does the passageway lead?"
"Why, it runs alongside the house from Cazenove street to Broad."
The district attorney diverted attention for a moment by making his wayto his seat through the crowd. He was the opposite of Badger ineverything; the one burly and slack, but with the stamp of moral energyin his bearing; the other immaculate from cravat to cuff borders andathletic if slight in build.
"Was it the back door or the front door you heard slam, Miss Lund?"resumed Badger, continuing to confer in an undertone with the districtattorney.
"It was the back door, sir, I suppose."
"Aren't you sure?"
"Pretty sure."
"Wasn't it probably the front door?"
"No, it was the back door, I'm positive."
"Then Ellen went out of the back door and left you and Floyd alone inthe house?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Robert and I were the only ones in."
"Just when was this slamming of the door, at what time? With reference,I mean, to your own movements and the movements of others in the house?"
"Well, I was up stairs and down, in and out, and Mr. Robert was in thestudy. I couldn't tell you just when."
"Very well----"
"And, if it's not improper, I wish to say that I am not here of my ownchoosing, for as sure as my name is Bertha Lund, Robert Floyd never setthat fire."
This sally was received in silence by the spectators. They lookedexpectantly toward the judge and the attorneys. Floyd's look was asspirited and firm as ever, as he scanned the faces packed around him,nodding to a lady in the front bench, but letting his eyes dwelloftenest, with a kind of interrogative look, followed by an expressionof soft satisfaction, on a younger face. It was golden-haired EmilyBarlow, transfixed with interest in the proceedings. Not even the darkvisage of the negro in the corner stood out so cameo-like from themultitude as hers, partly by its sweetness of beauty, but more by theparted lips and eager gaze.
"The witness is not to volunteer opinions, but simply to give the factsshe is requested to give, clearly and truthfully, as her oath requires."This reproof was not harshly spoken by the judge. "You may continue, Mr.Badger."
"Mr. Floyd was in the study, then?"
"Yes, sir, he was."
"Where the fire started?"
"It started in the study."
"Will you describe to the court, without any omissions, everything youdid and everything you saw Mr. Floyd do from the time he opened thestudy door until you descended the stairway and discovered the roomafire?"
"Well, sir, when Mr. Robert unlocked the door----"
"Which door?"
"The study."
"It had been locked, then?"
"Yes, sir; Mr. Robert had locked it after the professor died."
"Which was on Tuesday?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go on with your story."
"After Mr. Robert opened the study door he was acting lonesome. I wentin and said, 'Shall I dust the room, Mr. Robert? It needs it.' 'Yes, do,Bertha,' said he. 'I'm expecting a lawyer. Is Ellen in?' 'She was goingout,' I answered, 'but I think I heard her run upstairs to her room.'Well, I went for the duster, and when I came back Mr. Robert wasstanding over the hearth. 'Is that you, Ellen?' he said, dazed-like andabsent-minded. But when he saw it was me he only laughed."
"What was Mr. Floyd doing when you startled him?" interposed the deepbass of the district attorney, cutting short the progress of the girl'shigh treble.
"Why, sir, he was stooping over."
"Over the hearth, you said?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see anything in his hands at the time?"
"Why, he was picking up little bits of paper, as though he had just torna letter to pieces."
"Go on," said Badger, making a note of this fact.
"While I was dusting the furniture Mr. Robert went out into theprofessor's chamber and brought in the canary. The poor thing hadn'tsung since the professor died. It was he who used to feed it and talk toit. But when Mr. Robert brought it into its old room and I pulled up thecurtains to let in the sunshine it set up such a trilling and chirping Icould hardly help crying."
"On which floor is this study?"
"The front room, one flight up."
"How high above
the street? You couldn't reach it from the sidewalk?"
"Not without a ladder."
"And you didn't keep a ladder resting against the front of your house,usually?"
"No more usually than other folks do."
"There was no tree," asked the district attorney, "whose branches hungnear the window?"
"No, sir; there was none," answered Bertha, respectfully.
"Now, the rest of your story, Miss Lund," said Badger; "the canary birdhad been brought in. Did it perch on Floyd's finger?"
"Canary birds will use their wings like other folks if they are let.No, it was brought in in the cage and the cage hung on the hook, just asit used to be."
"Why had it been removed?"
"So as to feed it," answered Bertha, triumphantly.
"Was there any other living thing in the room at this time?"
"Is a dog a living thing?" Being human, Bertha resented catechising. Thetemptation to answer one question by another is strong, even when oneisn't a New-Englander by birth.
"Previous to its death, it may be considered alive," answered Badger,dryly.
"Well, Sire was there."
"A dog, I presume, from your last response. Continue from the point whenthe cage was brought in."
"I went upstairs, as I told you before, when I had finished my dusting.Then I sat down in Mr. Robert's room."
"Was that all you did?--to sit down?"
"Yes."
Bertha's replies had gradually come down to monosyllabic length and itlooked as if the next step might be silence. But the district attorneyinterposed with a nod and a smile, which worked like magic in looseningher tongue.
"Well," she continued, "I was sitting at Mr. Robert's window when Inoticed Sire's barking. I thought it was odd if he was playing with Mr.Robert, they both took on so at the professor's death. But it kept upand kept up, so I slipped down to see and the first thing I smelled wassmoke. It was leaking out through the study keyhole and I could hearSire barking and pawing at the knob inside. Of course I opened the doorand rushed in to save the canary, but the fire stung me so I thought Iwas suffocated. Sire began running around and I called for Mr. Robert,thinking he was in the room, for the smoke was hiding everything. Oh, Itell you my heart stopped when my voice came back to me all hollow inthat empty house. It was then I ran down to the street."
"One moment, Miss Lund. Did you or did you not observe anything new orunusual in the room when you were engaged in dusting the chairs?"
"No, sir; I don't remember anything unusual."
"How long were you upstairs?"
"I couldn't say. I'm not good at guessing time. There are some folks,like Senda Wesner, seem to have a clock going in their heads, but I'mnot one of them. Perhaps it was ten minutes."
"Miss Lund," the district attorney stroked his great beard, as he wasapt to do in driving home a crucial question. "Can you now fix moreprecisely the moment of the door slam, which you say convinced you ofEllen's departure?"
"No, sir; the door slam," Bertha touched her forehead, trying toremember, "the door slam is all mixed up with the barking and fire, so Ican't untangle it at all."
"It seems to be a part of this chain of events you have just narrated soclearly for us? You think, you thought at the time, it was Ellen leavingthe house?"
"Yes, sir. It was the back door. Who else could it be? Besides, Mr.Robert was quiet. He never slammed the door."
"I simply wanted the girl's best evidence to the fact that they werealone in the house at this time," said the district attorney.
"But the girl, Ellen, seems to have been about until the fire was set,"answered the judge.
The Incendiary: A Story of Mystery Page 5