The Homesteader: A Novel
Page 69
CHAPTER XVI
A FRIEND
Because she feared that rising as early as she had been accustomed tomight serve to embarrass her fiance and his aunt, Agnes took a magazinefrom her bag, returned to bed and tried to interest herself in a storythe morning following her arrival in the city. About seven, some oneknocked lightly at her door, and, upon opening it, she found the maidwith the morning paper.
"Would you care for it?" she asked courteously.
"I would be glad to have it," she said as she took it, returned to thebed, and once again therein, turned to read the news. It was but amoment before she started up quickly as she read:
STRANGE MURDER CASE ON VERNON AVENUE
NEGRO MINISTER AND HIS DAUGHTER FOUND MURDERED ABOUT MIDNIGHT
JEAN BAPTISTE, WHO HAD LOST SUIT AGAINST PREACHER, ARRESTED AND HELD WITHOUT BAIL AS SUSPECT. WAS MET LEAVING THE HOUSE JUST BEFORE DISCOVERY OF THE MURDER.
Jean Baptiste, Negro author and rancher is under arrest at the county jail this morning, accused of the murder of his wife and father-in-law, the Reverend N.J. McCarthy, at 3---- Vernon Avenue. The dead bodies of the preacher and his daughter were discovered shortly after midnight last night by his daughter Ethel and her husband, upon his return from State Street where he had seen Baptiste leave the Keystone saloon a few minutes after twelve.
The murder appears to be the sequence of a long enmity between the preacher and his son-in-law, Baptiste. Some years ago Baptiste had the preacher's daughter take a homestead in the West, on which he had purchased a relinquishment for her. Some months later they were married and went to live on the claim he had secured. It seems that bad blood existed between the preacher and Baptiste, and some time after the marriage the preacher went on a trip West and when he returned brought his daughter back with him. It is said that the rancher visited Chicago several times following in an effort to persuade her to return. About a year ago, the daughter sold a relinquishment on the homestead and Baptiste accused the preacher of having influenced her to do so. He also accused him of other things that contributed to the separation, and finally sued the minister in the circuit court of Cook County for ten thousand dollars for alienating his wife's affections. The case was brought up, tried, and, yesterday, the minister was adjudged not guilty by the jury. The rancher and author made a strong case against the minister, and it was the consensus of opinion in the court room that the minister was guilty. But it was his daughter's alibi that saved him: she testified that she did not and never had loved her husband, and because the plaintiff was unable to prove conclusively that she had, the jury's verdict was "not guilty."
E.M. Glavis, also a son-in-law of the dead man, testified and was corroborated by another, a minister, that just as he turned into his yard last night, he met Jean Baptiste coming out. He moreover claims, that a few days before the trial, he tried to dissuade Baptiste from going through with the case, and to settle it out of court. But that Baptiste refused to consider it; that he showed his bitterness toward the now dead man, by declaring that if he hadn't wished to observe and subserve to the law, he would have killed the preacher long ago.
It is therefore the consensus of opinion that Baptiste, disappointed by losing the suit, entered the house and murdered his wife and father-in-law while they slept. The circumstantial evidence is strong, and it looks rather bad for the author. Only one phase of the case seems to puzzle the police, however, and that is that the preacher and his daughter were found dead in the same room, the room which the minister occupied. Both had been stabbed with a knife that had long been in that same room. The minister's body lay in bed as if he had been murdered while he was sleeping, while that of the daughter lay near the door. It is the opinion also of those who feel Baptiste guilty, that he entered the house and went to the preacher's room, and there killed him while he lay sleeping; and that the daughter, who was sleeping downstairs near her mother, was possibly aroused by the noise, went up to the room, and was murdered as the intruder was about to leave.
Baptiste refused to make any comment further than that he was innocent.
"Accused of murder!" Agnes echoed, staring before her in muchexcitement. "_Jean Baptiste accused of murder!_" She read the accountagain. She arose and stood on the floor. "He _is_ innocent, _he isinnocent_!" she cried to herself. "_Jean Baptiste would not commitmurder, no, no, no! No, not even if he was justified in doing so._"Suddenly she seized her clothes, and in the next instant was gettinghurriedly into them.
She completed her toilet quickly, opened the door and slipped down thestairs. The maid was at work in the hall, and she approached her, andsaid:
"Will you kindly advise the lady of the house that I have gone downtownon some very urgent business. That I shall return later in the day?"
She stepped outside, crossed to State Street, inquired of an officer theway to the county jail, and a few minutes later boarded a car for thenorth side.
She had no plans as to what she would or could do, but she was going tohim. All that he had been to her in the past had arisen the instant shesaw that he was in trouble. Especially did she recall his having savedthem from foreclosure and disgrace years before. She was determined. Shewas _going_ to him, he was innocent, she was positive, and she would doall in her power to save him.
It was rather awkward, going to a place she had never dreamed of goingto, the county jail, but she shook this resolutely from her mind, and afew minutes following her arrival, there she stood before the bailiff.
"I am a friend of a man who was arrested in connection with a murderlast night," she explained to the officer. "And--ah, would it bepossible for me to see and consult with him?"
"You refer to that case on Vernon Avenue, madam?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you would like to see this Jean Baptiste?"
"That is the one."
They regarded her closely, and was finally asked to follow the bailiff.
They stopped presently before a cell, and when the light had been turnedon, she saw Baptiste sitting on a cot. He looked up, and uponrecognizing her, came forward.
"Why, Agnes--Miss Stewart, _you_!" he cried in great surprise. Heregarded her as if afraid to try to understand her presence there.
"Yes, Jean," she answered quickly. "It is _I_." She hesitated in herexcitement, and as she did so, he caught that same mystery in her eyes.They were blue, and again he could swear that they were brown. Despitehis precarious position and predicament, he could not help regardingher, and marking the changes that had come in the years since he hadseen her. She seemed to have grown a trifle stouter, while her hairappeared there in the light more beautiful. Her face was stronger, whileher lips were as red as ever. Withal, she had grown more seriouslooking. She reminded him as she stood there then, of a serious youngliterary woman, and he was made hopeful by her visit.
"Now, Jean, I've read all about it in the papers. I happened to be inthe city, and so came right over. I know nothing about anything likethis, and don't suppose you do either. But, Jean," she spoke excitedly,anxiously, and hurriedly, "I am willing to do anything you ask me to,just anything, Jean." And she regarded him tenderly. He was affected byit, he choked confusedly. It was all so sudden. She noted his confusion,and cried in a strained little voice,
"You must just tell _me_, Jean."
"Why, Agnes--I. Well, I don't know what to say. I don't feel that Iought to involve you in such a mess as this. I--"
"Oh, you must not speak that way, Jean. No, no, no! I'm here to helpyou. You _didn't_ kill him, you _didn't_ kill _her_--_you didn't killanybody, did you, Jean_?"
"Of course I didn't kill anybody, Agnes."
"Of course you didn't, Jean!" she cried with relief. "I _knew_ you wereinnocent. I said so, and I got out of bed and came at once, I did."
"How brave, how noble, how kind," he murmured as if to himself, but shereached and placed her hand over his where it rested upon the bar.
"Shall I hire a lawyer, Jean? A great lawyer--the best in the city. Thatwould be the first thing to do, wouldn't it, Jean?"
He looked at her, and could not believe it was so, but finally hemurmured:
"I have a lawyer--a friend of mine. You may call on him, Agnes. Hisnumber is 3---- Vernon Avenue. He will tell me what to do."
"And _me_," she said quickly.
"Yes--_you_," he repeated, and lowered his eyes.
"Well, I'm going now, Jean," and she reached for his hand.
He was almost overcome, and could not look at her directly.
"Be strong, Jean. It will come out all right--it must come out allright--"
"Oh, Agnes, this is too much. Forget it. You should not--"
"Please hush, Jean," she said imploringly, and he glanced up to seetears in her eyes. She looked away to hide them. As she did so, shecried: "Oh, Jean, I know what _they_ have been doing to you--how youhave been made to suffer. And--and--I--could _never_ stand to see itafter all--" she broke away then, and rushed from him and out of thebuilding. He watched her and when she was gone, he went back to the cotand sat him down, and murmured.
"Agnes, oh, Agnes,--_and after all that has passed_!"