But the Coroner was not going to stop here. “Did Mr. Evans expect you to go out with him in search of the tramp?”
Of course, I had to say he had discouraged any such action on my part, although I tried to be fair and admit I had not pressed my service on him.
“Mr. Williams, you are the lawyer for the Evans family, are you not?”
“I am a member of the firm which has handled the family business for many years.”
“Can you tell the court of the provisions of Mr. Cyrus Evans’ will?”
I quite definitely did not want to do this, so I evaded as neatly as I could. “My senior partner is in England now and, since it is he who has handled all matters pertaining to the will, I should not feel qualified to speak on the subject.”
This concluded my testimony and I was-glad to have the question of the will dropped for the moment. Edwin was called next. I knew that both he and Charles had been previously questioned by the troopers—indeed, both young men had been forced to admit that they owned forty-five caliber guns, and these guns had been carefully examined—but I had not heard directly what they had to say about the events of the tenth. As I listened to his testimony, I could not help feeling somewhat surprised at Edwin’s affable behavior in court. He told his story easily, fluently and well, with almost no prompting from the Coroner.
He began by saying he regretted he was able to throw no light on his uncle’s murder. He had left Bay-side early in the morning to go up to town in his car. “I left Charles outside Mr. Williams’ office,” he was saying, “as he was to deliver Uncle Cyrus’ invitation as you have already heard. Then I drove straight to my broker’s and remained there at least two hours watching the progress of the market. Let me see, I took Mr. Courtney over to the Southern for lunch and Jones joined us there later. He is the other member of the firm. I’ve already told all this in detail to the police, and if I go wrong on any minor point they can correct me.” The narrator paused apologetically and one could fairly see the Coroner beam at this docile witness. He remarked graciously, “You don’t need to go into such detail, Mr. Evans.”
“I only thought perhaps it would be best to clear up any doubt that might linger on the score of my activities and any possible connection they might have with Bayside. At any rate, I left the Southern at one-thirty exactly. I noticed the time because I was wondering if I would be able to get to the bank.” He paused, a bit uncertain now. “Then I did some shopping,” he concluded abruptly.
Now Charles and I were sitting together not far from where Edwin was and, as the narrator ceased, his brother leaned over and said to me in a perfectly audible whisper, “That’s really no go—the confession lacks detail at this point. He shouldn’t disappoint the jury when they are dying to know whether he bought socks, shirts, or a few really worthwhile books.”
I knew Edwin heard some of this aside, as must several of the jurymen. At once he smiled engagingly and said in a confidential tone, “I really placed a few bets on the Tia Juana races.”
“And he calls it shopping,” Charles murmured sotto voce.
This short interlude didn’t hurt Edwin in the least. No Marylander in court would condemn a man for placing a bet on a horse race, no matter how strict an interpretation of morals he had in other ways. But the whispering did focus attention on Charles.
“A bit past three o’clock I started home by the upper road through Belton. It is somewhat longer that way, but it was beginning to rain and I find the upper road safer in wet weather. Anyhow, I was in no hurry, and when I came to Belton I saw the movie, ‘Sinners Indeed,’ was at the Crystal Palace, so I went in.”
Suddenly there was a diversion in the back of the room.
“What is the matter?” asked the Coroner, halting Edwin’s recital.
No one replied at once, and then a man in the uniform of the State Police rose. “I have brought a girl to the inquest; I mean to say she is the girl who was at the ticket-window of the Crystal Palace, day before yesterday, and I asked her to see if she could identify the witness.”
“Is she able to do so?”
“No. She is not sure whether she saw him or not.”
“Naturally not,” said the Coroner in a dry tone. “From what I have seen of the business done by the Belton theater, I’d be very much surprised if she could.”
This was by way of being an aside, inspired by the rivalry of the two towns in regard to their theaters, but Edwin apparently did not understand it as such.
“I am an infrequent patron of the movies,” he said with a slight smile, “but if there is any doubt of my presence there at the stated time, I will describe the performance.”
No one answered what appeared to be a rhetorical question, anyhow, so Edwin retold the basic plot of the picture and referred to several specific scenes. I was amazed to note what a capital raconteur he made, when so minded, and how he held the good-fellowship of the court when he related the scene where the hero of the play blunders back stage and comes upon a chorus in rehearsal. The bit evidently depended for its humor on the embarrassment of the country youth when he finds himself surrounded with so much unadorned feminine pulchritude. When Edwin retold this incident, he did so with the air of deploring the pornographic humor of the piece; yet a few unsuppressed guffaws from the jury told how cleverly he had gotten his effect. After this, he concluded his recital by a simple statement of his arrival home at six o’clock, when he was told the news of his uncle’s death.
The Coroner, before dismissing this witness who had wasted so much of the court’s time by relating facts pertinent to his own day, but in no way related to the tragedy at Bayside, asked him various questions concerning any possible enemies Cyrus might have made. Courteously, quietly, Edwin denied knowing anything which would throw any light on the identity of his uncle’s murderer.
SIX
There was a brief interval between Edwin’s testimony and his brother’s, devoted to the recall of Lyttle who was asked about the police inspection of the pistols found at Bayside. I could not decide why the Coroner chose to interpolate this in the record at precisely that spot, unless he wanted the jury to be very sure that the pistols owned by both the boys gave no indications of having been fired recently when the troopers examined them. There was no doubt left in my mind but that the Coroner found Edwin a witness after his own heart, so perhaps he wished to exonerate him before any too inquisitive juryman.
When Charles finally was allowed to give his testimony, he completely alienated the entire room. His manner was truculent and insolent in the extreme, as he announced, immediately upon being questioned, that he had been absent from Bayside the entire afternoon of the tenth, that he was totally unable to give a connected account of his actions and, furthermore, didn’t see any reason why he should.
“I was not as forehanded as my brother,” he explained ironically. “I didn’t spend the whole day with my eyes glued to the clock, as every one else seems to have done. The only explanation I can offer for such negligence is that I really had no idea a murder was about to take place. All I can say is, I went up to Baltimore with my brother, as he has told you, saw Mr. Williams, spent the day on business of my own, and then returned to Bayside in a car with some friends. And that’s just as good an alibi as any one else has offered. You might ask Mr. Williams if he heard the car drive up, since he seems to be official auditory register for the police.”
The Coroner did not like this young man’s manner, and for a moment he seemed to forget his predisposition toward Tom’s probable guilt.
“You’ll have to produce a witness to your whereabouts on the afternoon of the tenth,” he announced flatly.
“I don’t have to,” Charles answered, “but I will.” And forthwith he did—what a witness, a huge, gangling brute of a man, whose long skull, receding chin and deformed ears betrayed Lombroso’s famous, if unsubstantiated, marks of a criminal, as well as lending much support to Darwin’s equally publicized theory. Any business in which this gentleman was a
n associate would not be a very respectable form of industry, I found myself thinking with a despondent feeling in my heart.
“Name?” asked the Coroner, temporarily nonplussed by the appearance of this strange witness.
“John Smith,” came the glib answer. “Now, lookit here, I’m willin’ to tell you about me and my partner, Chollie, bein’ wit’ each other day before yesterday, but I want to get it straight first—this ain’t a regular court and you can’t ask me nothin’ except about me and Chollie bein’ together?”
“All this court is concerned with are the facts surrounding Mr. Cyrus Evans’ death,” replied the Coroner, stiffly.
“Dat’s all right, den,” declared John Smith cheerfully. “Me buddies says I was a fool to come here at all, but I allus says, stick up for a buddy when he needs you if it won’t do you no harm—and there ain’t nothin’ I know about the old man croakin’ or I wouldn’t be here.”
I was revolted by the testimony of this uncouth person. How a man like Charles could have degraded himself to have any connections with riff-raff of this sort was beyond my comprehension. Here was an acknowledged law-breaker sitting in the Coroner’s court as a witness to prove that another man was engaged in an illegal activity at the time the murder was committed, and so to give that man an alibi. What times we have fallen on!
In spite of my personal feelings, however, John Smith, it must be admitted, told a very convincing story—which was fortunate for Charles for the temper of the Court, aggravated by the advent of this star witness, was such that they would gladly have hung a murder on him if it were feasible. Mr. Smith’s testimony was very definite.
“Between four-t’irty and five—de whole of dat time, ya understand—me an’ me partners, an’ dat takes in Chollie here, was down at the beach unloading a cargo of Florida water,—”
“What beach?” interposed the Coroner.
“I should tell you what beach,” exclaimed the astonished and pained bootlegger. “Hey, Doc, I’ve got my livin’ to make. What beach, indeed.”
“Enough,” roared the indignant official. “Mr. Charles Evans, the Court questions the propriety of your having brought this witness here and censures you for having done so. We are not forced to listen to any more.”
“May I remind you that I am only following out the suggestion of the State Police that I get some one who could testify to my whereabouts on the day of my uncle’s death?” interposed Charles swiftly. “As to the personality of my witness, may I suggest that, like him, I have my living to make, and I feel that your remarks stop barely short of slander.”
The Coroner fumed helplessly. He would have liked to administer a stinging rebuke to Charles, but he dared not let that young man bait him any further for, after all, the official had other fish to fry this day, and he had called both Edwin and Charles with the main idea of letting them eliminate themselves early in the case. Now, having the ground cleared, so to speak, he was ready for the fireworks. He recalled Tom.
“According to your own knowledge, Mr. Evans, did you stand to benefit by your father’s death?”
I hoped Tom would evade this question, as I had evaded it for him, but he replied as promptly and nonchalantly as if he were utterly oblivious of the import of the Coroner’s words.
“If you are referring to financial benefit derived from Mr. Evans’ death, most assuredly I knew I was to inherit a large fortune under the will.”
“You are informed of the contents of the will?”
“Naturally, Mr. Evans never made any secret of his intentions as to the distribution of his wealth. Both I and my cousins were fully informed; in fact, it was often a topic of conversation.”
“Will you tell us what the general terms are for the distribution of the estate?”
“I stand to inherit the entire estate, both real and personal, including, of course, Bayside, except for the sum of two hundred thousand dollars, which is to be divided equally between my two cousins. I have the option of paying this sum outright on settling the estate, or of turning over securities to the full value thereof, since I am executor jointly with the law firm of Vaile and Williams. If I should die without heirs, the estate goes equally to my cousins, should they survive me, or to their heirs and assigns in the case of the death of either or both.”
“Otherwise, the estate goes directly to .your heirs?” asked the Coroner with interest. It was plain that he had not before heard of the will, although there must have been considerable speculation in the county over the division of the Evans’ estate.
“Exactly,” Tom nodded. “But, as you are doubtless aware, I was legally adopted by Mr. Evans, so my only possible heirs would be heirs of the body. I have no claiming family.”
The Coroner nodded to show his understanding. “You say your cousins are aware of this will. Had they ever, to your knowledge, appeared dissatisfied with the idea that you, an adopted son, should inherit the bulk, while they, blood kin, were turned off with what must be a very inconsiderable portion of the whole amount?”
“A hundred thousand dollars, Mr. Coroner, should not appear inconsiderable to a man who was living on his uncle’s charity.”
“No, but it seems as if they lost more than they gained by Mr. Evans’ death, provided there was ever any hope of his altering his will.”
“Mr. Evans did not give any one the idea that he would at any time alter his will. In fact, I am sure the liberal bequest which he made to his nephews was more for the purpose of deterring them from tying up the estate, by spurious claims and litigations, than for awarding them. Mr. Evans did not feel that either nephew was exactly a credit to the family.”
I was sorry to see Tom’s animosity to his cousins driving him to these last remarks. The Coroner pounced on them at once.
“We are to judge, then, that Mr. Evans did consider you a credit to the family?”
Tom made no reply.
“In which case—if some news, very discrediting to you, should have come to your late father’s ears, would you consider it likely he might have altered his will?”
Tom shrugged his shoulders. “I can see no reason for answering your question.” But it was too late for discretion now—the witness had played, right into the Coroner’s hand.
The police had unearthed a surprise. They produced a dapper little soul, whose gaudy raiment more than made up for what he might lack in physical stature. I knew the gentry to which he belonged. I had seen them at race meets, in Capital restaurants, and slipping furtively through the lobbies of vast hotels. With caution peculiar to his kind, he reluctantly admitted that he held Tom’s notes of hand for a sum exceeding fifty thousand dollars, and that lately, despairing of collecting the debt, he had threatened to take the notes to Cyrus and expose their maker. It did not surprise me to find out that Tom was a gambler on so large a scale. I had suspected it long ago, but if this man’s tale were true it provided adequate motive, which, combined with the opportunity and not forgetting my testimony, pointed unmistakably toward the criminal.
At least, so it seemed to the jury. Edwin and Charles had been eliminated in the eyes of the court from any knowledge of, or participation in, the crime. That left Tom—and his tramp. Against Tom’s own story was my word, which the jury found easier to believe than the wandering tale involving-a mysterious stranger. Now that the motive had been provided, the conclusions to be drawn by the jurors, definitely hostile and suspicious from the start, were obvious; the verdict surprised no one. Tom was found guilty and the indictment was sought at once.
SEVEN
Tom was arrested on the Coroner’s warrant, and indictment sought and procured with astounding celerity. As soon as I received the news, I bestirred myself, for this thing had gone too far for me to carry on alone. I composed a cablegram to my chief which set forth with the utmost clarity, consistent with economy, the main facts of the Bayside mystery as I saw them to date. Within a very few hours from the time I dispatched my cable, my telephone rang, and, to my great excitement, I found m
yself talking with my chief. Our conversation was perforce brief, but it cheered me not a little and ended with John Patrick’s promise to be on the Gargantua when she left Plymouth that very night. So I was to be reinforced by his presence before many days had passed.
Then I set out to visit Tom, a course not greatly to my liking but strongly recommended by my chief. I found him in prison, but in a far better frame of mind and more cheerful spirits than I deemed possible. He told me he was intending to conduct his own defence, a statement which did not greatly surprise me, and, indeed, I rather approved of his idea, although I am not ignorant of the old saw concerning the lawyer who has himself for a client. In spite of that, I was convinced there was in all Maryland no better criminal lawyer than the one Tom had intrusted with his defence. Needless to say, he did not inform me along what lines he intended to plead, and this was only natural for, although I came to him in the guise of a family friend, as well as a lawyer who had handled the Evans’ affairs, we could neither of us disguise from ourselves the outstanding position I held in the prosecution’s case. I inquired if there was anything I could do for him, and Tom said yes, there was. He was most anxious to press the District Attorney for an immediate trial and desired me to go and see if my influence would not avail in hurrying up the prosecution. I was not at all loath to accede to this request for, if by any chance Tom were not guilty, he should be spared the unnecessary torture of a long period in jail. If he were guilty, then it certainly was best for all concerned to get the matter over with. So insistent was Tom on this point that I began to wonder if, realizing his case hopeless, his demand for prompt action was in the nature of a surrender to the inevitable. But I could never conceive of Tom in surrender.
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