Friday morning was bright and cool — one of those perfect days for which
Southern California is famous. Judge Wilton appeared in court with a
tranquil expression upon his face that proved he was in a contented mood.
All conditions augured well for the prisoner.
The prosecution was represented by two well known attorneys who had brought a dozen witnesses to support their charge, among them being the Austrian consul. The case opened with the statement that the prisoner, Jackson Dowd Andrews, alias A. Jones, while a guest at the villa of the Countess Ahmberg, near Vienna, had stolen from his hostess a valuable collection of pearls, which he had secretly brought to America. Some of the stolen booty the prisoner had disposed of, it was asserted; a part had been found in his possession at the time of his arrest; some of the pearls had been mounted by Brock & Co., the Los Angeles jewelers, at his request, and by him presented to several acquaintances he had recently made but who were innocent of any knowledge of his past history or his misdeeds. Therefore the prosecution demanded that the prisoner be kept in custody until the arrival of extradition papers, which were already on the way, and that on the arrival of these papers Andrews should be turned over to Le Drieux, a representative of the Vienna police, and by him taken to Austria, the scene of his crime, for trial and punishment.
The judge followed the charge of the prosecution rather indifferently, being already familiar with it. Then he asked if there was any defense.
Colby took the floor. He denied that the prisoner was Jackson Dowd Andrews, or that he had ever been in Vienna. It was a case of mistaken identity. His client’s liberty had been outraged by the stupid blunders of the prosecution. He demanded the immediate release of the prisoner.
“Have you evidence to support this plea?” inquired Judge Wilton.
“We have, your honor. But the prosecution must first prove its charge.”
The prosecution promptly responded to the challenge. The photograph of Andrews, taken abroad, was shown. Two recognized experts in physiognomy declared, after comparison, that it was undoubtedly the photograph of the prisoner. Then Le Drieux took the stand. He read a newspaper account of the robbery. He produced a list of the pearls, attested by the countess herself. Each individual pearl was described and its color, weight and value given. Then Le Drieux exhibited the pearls taken from Jones and, except for the small ones in the brooch which had been presented to Mrs. Montrose, he checked off every pearl against his list, weighing them before the judge and describing their color.
During this, Judge Wilton continually nodded approval. Such evidence was concise and indisputable, it seemed. Moreover, the defense readily admitted that the pearls exhibited had all been in Jones’ possession.
Then Colby got up to refute the evidence.
“Mr. Jones,” he began, “has — ”
“Give the prisoner’s full name,” said the judge.
“His full name is A. Jones.”
“What does the ‘A’ stand for?”
“It is only an initial, your honor. Mr. Jones has no other name.”
“Puh! He ought to have taken some other name. Names are cheap,” sneered the judge.
Colby ignored the point.
“Mr. Jones is a resident of Sangoa, where he was born. Until he landed at San Francisco, fifteen months ago, he had never set foot on any land but that of his native island.”
“Where is Sangoa?” demanded the judge.
“It is an island of the South Seas.”
“What nationality?”
“It is independent. It was purchased from Uruguay by Mr. Jones’ father many years ago, and now belongs exclusively to his son.”
“Your information is indefinite,” snapped the judge.
“I realize that, your honor; but my client deems it wise to keep the location of his island a secret, because he has valuable pearl fisheries on its shores. The pearls exhibited by the prosecution were all found at Sangoa.”
“How do you account, then, for their checking so accurately against the list of stolen pearls?”
“I can make almost any pearls check with that list, which represents a huge collection of almost every size, weight and color,” replied Colby. “To prove this, I will introduce in evidence Captain Carg of Sangoa, who recently arrived at Santa Monica Bay with the last proceeds of the pearl fisheries of the island.”
Captain Carg was on hand, with his two sailors guarding the chest. He now produced the trays of pearls and spread them on the desk before the amazed eyes of the judge. Le Drieux was astounded, and showed it plainly on his face.
Colby now borrowed the list, and picking up a pearl from the tray weighed it on Le Drieux’s scales and then found a parallel to it on the list. This he did with several of the pearls, chosen at random, until one of Le Drieux’s attorneys took the expert aside and whispered to him. Then Le Drieux’s expression changed from chagrin to joy and coming forward he exclaimed:
“Your honor, this is the collection — the balance of it — which was stolen from the Countess Ahmberg!”
The judge looked at him a moment, leaned back in his chair and nodded his head impressively.
“What nonsense!” protested Colby. “These trays contain twice the number of pearls included in that entire list, as your honor may plainly see.”
“Of course,” retorted Le Drieux eagerly; “here are also the pearls from the necklace of Princess Lemoine, and the London collection of Lady Grandison. Your honor, in his audacity the defense has furnished us proof positive that this prisoner can be none other than the adventurer and clever thief, Jack Andrews.”
It was in vain that Colby declared these pearls had just come from Sangoa, where they were found. The judge cut him short and asked if he had any other evidence to advance.
“These pearls,” he added, indicating the trays, “I shall take possession of. They must remain in my custody until their owners claim them, or Captain Carg can prove they are the lawful property of the prisoner.”
Consternation now pervaded the ranks of the defense. The girls were absolutely dismayed, while Uncle John and Arthur Weldon wore bewildered looks. Only Jones remained composed, an amused smile curling the corners of his delicate mouth as he eyed the judge who was to decide his fate.
On the side of the prosecution were looks of triumph. Le Drieux already regarded his case as won.
Colby now played his trump card, which Maud Stanton’s logic and energy had supplied the defense.
“The prosecution,” said he, “has stated that the alleged robbery was committed at Vienna on the evening of September fifteenth, and that Jack Andrews arrived in America on the steamship Princess Irene on the afternoon of the January twenty-seventh following. Am I correct in those dates?”
The judge consulted his stenographer.
“The dates mentioned are correct,” he said pompously.
“Here are the papers issued by the Commander of the Port of San
Francisco, proving that the yacht Arabella of Sangoa anchored in that
harbor on October twelfth, and disembarked one passenger, namely: A.
Jones of Sangoa.”
“That might, or might not, have been the prisoner,” declared the prosecuting attorney.
“True,” said the judge. “The name ‘A. Jones’ is neither distinguished nor distinguishing.”
“On the evening of January twenty-sixth, twenty-four hours before Jack Andrews landed in America,” continued Colby, “the prisoner, Mr. A. Jones, appeared at the annual meeting of the stockholders of the Continental Film Manufacturing Company, in New York, and was formally elected president of that organization.”
“What is your proof?” inquired the judge, stifling a yawn.
“I beg to submit the minutes of the meeting, attested by its secretary.”
The judge glanced at the minutes.
“We object to this evidence,” said the opposing attorney. “There is no proof that the A. Jones referred to is the prisoner.”
“The minutes,” said Colby, “state that a motion picture was taken of the meeting. I have the film here, in this room, and beg permission to exhibit it before your honor as evidence.”
The judge was a bit startled at so novel a suggestion but assented with a nod. In a twinkling the operator had suspended a roller-screen from the chandelier dependent from the ceiling, pulled down the window shades and attached his projecting machine to an electric-light socket.
Then the picture flashed upon the screen. It was not entirely distinct, because the room could not be fully darkened and the current was not strong, yet every face in the gathering of stockholders could be plainly recognized. Jones, especially, as the central figure, could not be mistaken and no one who looked upon the picture could doubt his identity.
When the exhibition was concluded and the room again lightened, Le Drieux’s face was visibly perturbed and anxious, while his attorneys sat glum and disconcerted.
Colby now put Goldstein on the stand, who testified that he recognized Jones as president of his company and the owner of the majority of stock. The young man had come to him with unimpeachable credentials to that effect.
The girls were now smiling and cheerful. To them the defense was absolutely convincing. But Le Drieux’s attorneys were skillful fighters and did not relish defeat. They advanced the theory that the motion picture, just shown, had been made at a later dale and substituted for the one mentioned in the minutes of the meeting. They questioned Goldstein, who admitted that he had never seen Jones until a few days previous. The manager denied, however, any substitution of the picture. He was not a very satisfactory witness for the defense and Colby was sorry he had summoned him.
As for the judge, he seemed to accept the idea of the substitution with alacrity. He had practically decided against Jones in the matter of the pearls. Now he listened carefully to the arguments of the prosecution and cut Colby short when he raised objections to their sophistry.
Finally Judge Wilton rose to state his decision.
“The evidence submitted in proof of the alleged fact that the prisoner is Jack Andrews, and that Jack Andrews may have robbed the Countess Ahmberg, of Vienna, of her valuable collection of pearls, is in the judgment of this court clear and convincing,” he said. “The lawyer for the defense has further succeeded in entangling his client by exhibiting an additional assortment of pearls, which may likewise be stolen property. The attempt to impose upon this court a mythical island called Sangoa is — eh — distinctly reprehensible. This court is not so easily hoodwinked. Therefore, in consideration of the evidence advanced, I declare that the prisoner is Jack Andrews, otherwise Jackson Dowd Andrews, otherwise parading under the alias of ‘A. Jones,’ and I recognize the claim of the Austrian police to his person, that he may be legally tried for his alleged crimes in the territory where it is alleged he committed them. Therefore I order that the prisoner be held for requisition and turned over to the proper authorities when the papers arrive. The court is adjourned.”
CHAPTER XXVI
SUNSHINE AFTER RAIN
Of course not one of our friends agreed with the judge. Indignation and resentment were written on every face — except that of Goldstein. The manager rubbed his hands softly together and, approaching Maud, he whispered:
“You needn’t speak to Jones about me. It’s all right. I guess he won’t be interfering with me any more, eh? And come early to-morrow morning. We’ve got a lot of rehearsing to do. To-day I will call a holiday for you. And, believe me, Miss Stanton, this is nothing to worry any of us. The judge settles it, right or wrong, for the law defies us all.”
As the manager hurried away Uncle John looked after him and said:
“I wonder if he realizes how true his words are? ‘The law defies us all.’ How helpless we are to oppose injustice and oppression when one man, with a man’s limitations and prejudices, is clothed with authority to condemn us!”
Colby stood silent. The poor fellow’s eyes were full of unshed tears.
“This is my first case, and my last,” said he. “I won it honestly. It was the judge, not the evidence, that defeated me. I’m going to rent my office and apply for a job as a chauffeur.”
Jones was the least affected of the group. “Never mind, friends,” he said to them, “it will all come right in the end. If you will stand by me, Colby, I’ll retain you to plead my case in the Austrian court, or at least advise my Austrian lawyers. I’ve an idea they will treat me fairly, over there in Vienna.”
“It’s outrageous!” quoth indignant Patsy Doyle. “I’d like to give that judge a piece of my mind.”
“If you did,” replied Arthur, “he’d fine you for contempt.”
“It would be a just line, in that case,” said Patsy; “so I’m sure he wouldn’t do it.”
The jailer had come to take the prisoner back to his cell. He smiled whimsically at Miss Doyle’s speech and remarked:
“There’s always one side to kick, Miss, whichever way the judge decides.
It was only Solomon who could satisfy everybody.”
“Clear the room!” shouted the bailiff.
Captain Carg’s men took the empty chest back to the launch. The captain followed them, after pressing the hand of his young master, who said: “Wait for orders, Captain.” Uncle John took his flock back to the hotel, where they gathered in his room and held an indignation meeting. Here it was safe to give full vent to their chagrin and disappointment.
“Every bit of honest evidence was on our side,” declared Maud. “I shall never be able to understand why we lost.”
“Bribery and corruption,” said Flo. “I’ll bet a cookie Le Drieux divided the reward with the judge.”
“I suppose it’s all up with Ajo now,” sighed Beth, regretfully.
“Yes,” replied Colby, who had accompanied them; “there is nothing more to be done for him at present. From the judge’s order there is no appeal, in such a case. Mr. Jones must go to Vienna for trial; but there he may secure an acquittal.”
“He is very brave, I think,” said Patsy. “This affair must have hurt his pride, but he smiles through it all. In his condition of health, the confinement and humiliation may well shorten his life, yet he has made no murmur.”
“He’s good stuff, that boy,” commented Uncle John. “Perhaps it is due to that John Paul blood his father was so proud of.”
When Arthur went into the lobby a little later he found Le Drieux seated comfortably and smoking a long cigar. The pearl expert nodded to the young ranchman with so much evident satisfaction that Arthur could not resist engaging him in conversation.
“Well, you won,” he remarked, taking a vacant chair beside Le Drieux.
“Yes, of course,” was the reply; “but I’ll admit that fellow Andrews is a smooth one. Why, at one time he had even me puzzled with his alibis and his evidence. That flash of the pearls was the cleverest trick I ever heard of; but it didn’t go, I’d warned the judge to look out for a scoop. He knew he was dealing with one of the most slippery rogues in captivity.”
“See here, Le Drieux,” said Arthur; “let us be honest with one another, now that the thing is settled and diplomacy is uncalled for. Do you really believe that Jones is Jack Andrews?”
“Me? I know it, Mr. Weldon. I don’t pose as a detective, but I’m considered to have a shrewd insight into human character, and from the first moment I set eyes on him I was positive that Jones was the famous Jack Andrews. I can understand how you people, generous and trusting, have been deceived in the fellow; I admire the grit you’ve all shown in standing by him to the last. I haven’t a particle of malice toward any one of you, I assure you — not even toward Andrews himself.”
“Then why have you bounded him so persistently?”
“For two reasons.” said Le Drieux. “As a noted pearl expert, I wanted to prove my ability to run down the thief; and, as a man in modest circumstances, I wanted the reward.”
“How much will you get?”
“All togethe
r, the rewards aggregate twenty thousand dollars. I’ll get half, and my firm will get half.”
“I think,” said Arthur, to test the man, “that Jones would have paid you double that amount to let him alone.”
Le Drieux shook his head; then he smiled.
“I don’t mind telling you, Mr. Weldon — in strict confidence, of course — that I approached Jones on that very subject, the day he was placed in jail. He must have been sure his tricks would clear him, for he refused to give me a single penny. I imagine he is very sorry, right now; don’t you, sir?”
“No,” said Arthur, “I don’t. I still believe in his innocence.”
Le Drieux stared at him incredulously.
“What, after that examination of to-day?” he demanded.
“Before and after. There was no justice in the decision of Judge Wilton; he was unduly prejudiced.”
“Be careful, sir!”
“We are talking confidentially.”
“To be sure. But you astonish me. I understand the character of Andrews so thoroughly that I fail to comprehend how any sensible person can believe in him. Talk about prejudice!”
“I suppose you are to remain at this hotel?” said Arthur, evading further argument.
“Yes, until the papers arrive. They ought to be here by Monday. Then I shall take Andrews to New York and we will board the first steamer for Europe.”
Arthur left him. Le Drieux puzzled him more than he puzzled Le Drieux. The expert seemed sincere in the belief that he had trapped, in Jones, a noted criminal. Weldon could not help wondering, as he walked away, if possibly he and his friends had been deceived in A. Jones of Sangoa. The doubt was but momentary, yet it had forced itself into his mind.
On Saturday afternoon they all made a visit to the prisoner and tried to cheer him. Again on Sunday they called — the Stantons and Merricks and Weldons and all. Young Jones received them with composure and begged them not to worry on his account.
“I am quite comfortable in this jail, I assure you,” said he. “On my journey to Vienna I shall be able to bribe Le Drieux to let me have such comforts as I desire. There is but one experience I shrink from: the passage across the Atlantic. If it brings a return of my former malady I shall suffer terribly.”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 520