Gabriel Conroy

by Bret Harte

  CHAPTER III.

  GABRIEL MEETS HIS LAWYER.

  Gabriel's petition on behalf of Mr. Hamlin was promptly granted by thesheriff. The waggon was at once put into requisition to convey thewounded man--albeit screaming and protesting--to the Grand Conroy Hotel,where, in company with his faithful henchman, he was left, to allintents a free man, and a half an hour later a demented one, tossing ina burning fever.

  Owing to the insecure condition of the county jail at One Horse Gulch,and possibly some belief in the equal untrustworthiness of the people,the sheriff conducted his prisoner, accompanied by Olly, to Wingdam.Nevertheless, Olly's statement of the changed condition of publicsentiment, or rather its pre-occupation with a calamity of moreabsorbing interest, was in the main correct. The news of the recaptureof Gabriel by his legal guardian awoke no excitement nor comment. Morethan this, there was a favourable feeling toward the prisoner. Theaction of the Vigilance Committee had been unsuccessful, and hadterminated disastrously to the principal movers therein. It is possiblethat the morality of their action was involved in their success. Somehowthe whole affair had not resulted to the business interests of theGulch. The three most prominent lynchers were dead--and clearly inerror! The prisoner, who was still living, was possibly in the right.The _Silverpolis Messenger_, which ten days before had alluded to the"noble spectacle of a free people outraged in their holiest instincts,appealing to the first principles of Justice and Order, and rallying asa single man to their support," now quietly buried the victims and theirmotives from the public eye beneath the calm statement that they mettheir fate "while examining the roof of the Court House with a view toestimate the damage caused by the first shock of the earthquake." The_Banner_ favoured the same idea a little less elegantly, and suggestedironically that hereafter "none but experts should be allowed to gofoolin' round the statue of Justice." I trust that the intelligentreader will not accuse me of endeavouring to cast ridicule upon thegeneral accuracy of spontaneous public emotion, nor the infallibility ofthe true democratic impulse, which (I beg to quote from the_Messenger_), "in the earliest ages of our history enabled us to resistlegalised aggression, and take the reins of government into our ownhands," or (I now refer to the glowing language of the _Banner_), "gaveus the right to run the machine ourselves and boss the job." And I trustthat the reader will observe in this passing recognition of certaininconsistencies in the expression and action of these people, only thefidelity of a faithful chronicler, and no intent of churlish criticismnor moral or political admonition, which I here discreetly deprecate anddisclaim.

  Nor was there any opposition when Gabriel, upon the motion of LawyerMaxwell, was admitted to bail pending the action of the Grand Jury, norany surprise when Mr. Dumphy's agent and banker came forward as hisbondsman for the sum of fifty thousand dollars. By one of those strangevicissitudes in the fortunes of mining speculation, this act by Mr.Dumphy was looked upon as an evidence of his trust in the future of theunfortunate mine of which Gabriel had been original locator andsuperintendent, and under that belief the stock rallied slightly. "Itwas a mighty sharp move of Pete Dumphy's bailin' thet Gabe, right inface of that there 'dropped lead' in his busted-up mine! Oh, you've gotto set up all night to get any points to show _him_!" And, to theirmutual surprise, Mr. Dumphy found himself more awe-inspiring than everat One Horse Gulch, and Gabriel found himself a free man, with a slightpopular flavour of martyrdom about him.

  As he still persistently refused to enter again upon the premises whichhe had deeded to his wife on the day of the murder, temporary lodgingswere found for him and Olly at the Grand Conroy Hotel. And here Mrs.Markle, although exhibiting to Lawyer Maxwell the greatest concern inGabriel's trouble, by one of those inconsistencies of the sex which Ishall not attempt to explain, treated the unfortunate accused with adegree of cold reserve that was as grateful, I fear, to Gabriel, as itwas unexpected. Indeed, I imagine that if the kind-hearted widow hadknown the real comfort and assurance that the exasperating Gabrielextracted from her first cold and constrained greeting, she would havespent less of her time in consultation with Maxwell regarding hisdefence. But perhaps I am doing a large-hearted and unselfish sex a deepinjustice. So I shall content myself with transcribing part of adialogue which took pace between them at the Grand Conroy.

  Mrs. Markle (loftily, and regarding the ceiling with cold abstraction):"We can't gin ye here, Mister Conroy, the French style and attentionye're kinder habitooal to in your own house on the Hill, bein' plainfolks and mounting ways. But we know our place, and don't reckon topromise the comforts of a home! Wot with lookin' arter forty reg'lar andtwenty-five transient--ef I don't happen to see ye much myself, Mr.Conroy, ye'll understand. Ef ye ring thet there bell one o' the helpwill be always on hand. Yer lookin' well, Mr. Conroy. And bizness, Ireckon" (the reader will here observe a ladylike ignoring of Gabriel'sspecial trouble), "ez about what it allers waz, though judging fromremarks of transients, it's dull!"

  Gabriel (endeavouring to conceal a large satisfaction under the thinglowing of conventional sentiment): "Don't let me nor Olly put ye out acent, Mrs. Markle--a change bein' ordered by Olly's physicians--andvariety bein', so to speak, the spice o' life! And ye're lookin' well,Mrs. Markle; that ez" (with a sudden alarm at the danger of compliment),"so to speak, ez peart and strong-handed ez ever! And how's thet littleManty o' yours gettin' on? Jist how it was thet me and Olly didn't getto see ye before ez mighty queer! Times and times ag'in" (with shamelessmendacity) "hez me and thet child bin on the p'int o' coming, andsuthin' hez jest chipped in and interfered!"

  Mrs. Markle (with freezing politeness): "You do me proud! I jest droppedin ez a matter o' not bein' able allers to trust to help. Good night,Mister Conroy. I hope I see you well! Ye kin jest" (retiring withmatronly dignity), "ye kin jest touch onto that bell thar, if ye'rewantin' anything, and help'll come to ye! Good-night!"

  Olly (appearing a moment later at the door of Gabriel's room, truculentand suspicious): "Afore I'd stand thar--chirpin' with thetcrockidill--and you in troubil, and not knowin' wot's gone o' July--I'dpizen myself!"

  Gabriel (blushing to the roots of his hair, and conscience-stricken tohis inmost soul): "It's jest passin' the time o' day, Olly, with oldfriends--kinder influencin' the public sentyment and the jury. Thet'sall. It's the advice o' Lawyer Maxwell, ez ye didn't get to hear, Ireckon,--thet's all!"

  But Gabriel's experience in the Grand Conroy Hotel was not, I fear,always as pleasant. A dark-faced, large-featured woman, manifestly inmourning, and as manifestly an avenging friend of the luckless deceased,in whose taking off Gabriel was supposed to be so largely instrumental,presently appeared at the Grand Conroy Hotel, waiting the action of theGrand Jury. She was accompanied by a dark-faced elderly gentleman, ourold friend Don Pedro--she being none other than the unstable-waistedManuela of Pacific Street--and was, I believe, in the opinion of OneHorse Gulch, supposed to be charged with convincing and mysteriousevidence against Gabriel Conroy. The sallow-faced pair had a way ofmeeting in the corridors of the hotel and conversing in mysteriouswhispers in a tongue foreign to One Horse Gulch and to Olly, stronglysuggestive of revenge and concealed _stilettos_, that was darklysignificant! Happily, however, for Gabriel, he was presently relievedfrom their gloomy espionage by the interposition of a third party--SalClark. That individual, herself in the deepest mourning, andrepresenting the deceased in his holiest affections, it is scarcelynecessary to say at once resented the presence of the strangers. The twowomen glared at each other at the public table, and in a chance meetingin the corridor of the hotel.

  "In the name of God, what have we here in this imbecile and forwardcreature, and why is this so and after this fashion?" asked Manuela ofDon Pedro.

  "Of a verity, I know not," replied Don Pedro, "it is most possibly aperson visited of God!--a helpless being of brains. Peradventure, aperson filled with _aguardiente_ or the whisky of the Americans. Have acare, little one, thou smallest Manuela" (she weighed at least threehundred pounds), "that she does thee no harm!"

&
nbsp; Meanwhile Miss Sarah Clark relieved herself to Mrs. Markle in quite aspositive language. "Ef that black mulattar and that dried-up oldfurriner reckons they're going to monopolise public sentyment in thisyer way they're mighty mistaken. Ef thar ever was a shameless piece et'sthet old woman--and, goodness knows, the man's a poor critter enyway! Efanybody's goin' to take the word of that woman under oath, et's mor'nSal Clark would do--that's all! Who ez she--enyway? I never heard hername mentioned afore!"

  And ridiculous as it may seem to the unprejudiced reader, this positiveexpression and conviction of Miss Clark, like all positive convictions,was not without its influence on the larger unimpanelled Grand Jury ofOne Horse Gulch, and, by reflection, at last on the impanelled juryitself.

  "When you come to consider, gentlemen," said one of those dangerouscharacters--a sagacious, far-seeing juror--"when you come to considerthat the principal witness o' the prosecution and the people at theinquest don't know this yer Greaser woman, and kinder throws off hertestimony, and the prosecution don't seem to agree, it looks mightyqueer. And I put it to you as far-minded men, if it ain't mighty queer?And this yer Sal Clark one of our own people."

  An impression at once inimical to the new mistress and stranger, andfavourable to the accused Gabriel, instantly took possession of OneHorse Gulch.

  Meanwhile the man who was largely responsible for this excitement andthese conflicting opinions maintained a gravity and silence asindomitable and impassive as his alleged victim, then slumberingpeacefully in the little cemetery on Round Hill. He conversed but littleeven with his counsel and friend, Lawyer Maxwell, and received with hisusual submissiveness and gentle deprecatoriness the statement of thatgentleman that Mr. Dumphy had already bespoken the services of one ofthe most prominent lawyers of San Francisco--Mr. Arthur Poinsett--toassist in the defence. When Maxwell added that Mr. Poinsett hadexpressed a wish to hold his first consultation with Gabriel privately,the latter replied with his usual simplicity, "I reckon I've nowt to sayto him ez I hain't said to ye, but it's all right!"

  "Then I'll expect you over to my office at eleven to-morrow?" askedMaxwell.

  "Thet's so," responded Gabriel, "though I reckon thet anything you andhim might fix up to be dumped onto thet jury would be pleasin' andsatisfactory to me."

  At a few minutes of eleven the next morning Mr. Maxwell, in accordancewith a previous understanding with Mr. Poinsett, put on his hat and lefthis office in the charge of that gentleman that he might receive andentertain Gabriel in complete privacy and confidence. As Arthur satthere alone, fine gentleman as he was and famous in his profession, hewas conscious of a certain degree of nervousness that galled his pridegreatly. He was about to meet the man whose cherished sister six yearsago he had stolen! Such, at least, Arthur felt was Gabriel's opinion._He_ had no remorse nor consciousness of guilt or wrongdoing in thatact. But in looking at the fact in his professional habit of viewingboth sides of a question, he made this allowance for the sentiment ofthe prosecution, and putting himself, in his old fashion, in theposition of his opponent, he judged that Gabriel might consistentlyexhibit some degree of indignation at their first meeting. That therewas, however, really any _moral_ question involved, he did not believe.The girl, Grace Conroy, had gone with him readily, after a careful andhonourable statement of the facts of her situation, and Gabriel'sauthority or concern in any subsequent sentimental complication heutterly denied. That he, Arthur, had acted in a most honourable,high-minded, and even weakly generous fashion towards Grace, that he hadobeyed her frivolous whims as well as her most reasonable demands, thathe had gone back to Starvation Camp on a hopeless quest just to satisfyher, that everything had happened exactly as he had predicted, and thatwhen he had returned to her he found that _she_ had deserted_him_--these--these were the facts that were incontrovertible! Arthurwas satisfied that he had been honourable and even generous--he wasquite convinced that this very nervousness that he now experienced, wassolely the condition of a mind too sympathetic even with the feelings ofan opponent in affliction. "I must _not_ give way to this absurdQuixotic sense of honour," said this young gentleman to himself,severely.

  Nevertheless, at exactly eleven o'clock, when the staircase creaked withthe strong steady tread of the giant Gabriel, Arthur felt a sudden startto his pulse. There was a hesitating rap at the door--a rap that was soabsurdly inconsistent with the previous tread on the staircase--asinconsistent as were all the mental and physical acts of Gabriel--thatArthur was amused and reassured. "Come in," he said, with a return ofhis old confidence, and the door opened to Gabriel, diffident andembarrassed.

  "I was told by Lawyer Maxwell," said Gabriel slowly, without raising hiseyes, and only dimly cognisant of the slight, strong, elegant figurebefore him--"I was told that Mr. Arthur Poinsett reckoned to see meto-day at eleven o'clock--so I came. Be you Mr. Poinsett?" (Gabriel hereraised his eyes)--"be you, eh?--GOD A'MIGHTY! why, it's--eh?--why--Iwant to know!--it can't be!--yes, it is!" He stopped--the recognitionwas complete!

  Arthur did not move. If he had expected an outburst from the injured manbefore him he was disappointed. Gabriel passed his hard palm vaguely andconfusedly across his forehead and through his hair, and lifted and putback behind his ears two tangled locks. And then, without heedingArthur's proffered hand, yet without precipitation, anger, orindignation, he strode toward him, and asked calmly and quietly, asArthur himself might have done, "Where is Grace?"

  "I don't know," said Arthur, bluntly. "I have not known for years. Ihave never known her whereabouts, living or dead, since the day I lefther at a logger's house to return to Starvation Camp to bring help to_you_." (Arthur could not resist italicising the pronoun, nor despisinghimself for doing it when he saw that the full significance of hisemphasis touched the man before him.) "She was gone when I returned;where, no one knew! I traced her to the Presidio, but there she haddisappeared."

  Gabriel raised his eyes to Arthur's. The impression of nonchalanttruthfulness which Arthur's speech always conveyed to his hearer, animpression that he did not prevaricate because he was not concernedsufficiently in his subject, was further sustained by his calm, cleareyes. But Gabriel did not speak, and Arthur went on--

  "She left the logger's camp voluntarily, of her own free will, anddoubtless for some reason that seemed sufficient to her. She abandonedme--if I may so express myself--left my care, relieved me of theresponsibility I held towards her relatives"--he continued, with thefirst suggestion of personal apology in his tones--"without a word ofprevious intimation. Possibly she might have got tired of waiting forme. I was absent two weeks. It was the tenth day after my departure thatshe left the logger's hut."

  Gabriel put his hand in his pocket and deliberately drew out theprecious newspaper slip he had once shown to Olly. "Then thet thar'Personal' wozent writ by you, and thet P. A. don't stand for PhilipAshley?" asked Gabriel, with a hopeless dejection in his tone.

  Arthur glanced quickly over the paper, and smiled. "I never saw thisbefore," he said. "What made you think _I_ did it?" he asked curiously.

  "Because July--my wife that was--said that P. A. meant you," saidGabriel, simply.

  "Oh! _she_ said so, did she?" said Arthur, still smiling.

  "She did. And ef it wasn't you, who was it?"

  "I really don't know," returned Arthur, carelessly; "possibly it mighthave been herself. From what I have heard of your wife, I think thismight be one, and perhaps the most innocent, of her various impostures."

  Gabriel cast down his eyes and for a moment was gravely silent. Then thelook of stronger inquiry and intelligence that he had worn during theinterview faded utterly from his face, and he began again in his oldtone of apology. "For answerin' all my questions, I'm obliged to ye, Mr.Ashley, and it's right good in ye to remember ol' times, and ef I hevoften thought hard on ye, ye'll kinder pass that by ez the nat'relallowin's of a man ez was worried about a sister ez hasn't been heerdfrom sens she left with ye. And ye mustn't think this yer meetin' was o'my seekin'. I kinder dropped in yer," he added wearily, "to
see a man o'the name o' Poinsett. He allowed to be yer at eleving o'clock--mebbeeit's airly yet--mebbee I've kinder got wrong o' the place!" and heglanced apologetically around the room.

  "_My_ name is Poinsett," said Arthur, smiling, "the name of PhilipAshley, by which you knew me, was merely the one I assumed when Iundertook the long overland trip." He said this in no tone of apology oreven explanation, but left the impression on Gabriel's mind that achange of name, like a change of dress, was part of the outfit of agentleman emigrant. And looking at the elegant young figure before him,it seemed exceedingly plausible. "It was as Arthur Poinsett, the SanFrancisco lawyer, that I made this appointment with you, and it is nowas your old friend Philip Ashley that I invite your confidence, and askyou to tell me frankly the whole of this miserable business. I have cometo help you, Gabriel, for your own--for your sister's sake. And I thinkI can do it!" He held out his hand again, and this time not in vain;with a sudden frank gesture it was taken in both of Gabriel's, andArthur felt that the greatest difficulty he had anticipated in hisadvocacy of Gabriel's cause had been surmounted.

  "He has told me the whole story, I think," said Arthur, two hours later,when Maxwell returned and found his associate thoughtfully sittingbeside the window alone. "And I believe it. He is as innocent of thiscrime as you or I. Of that I have always been confident. How far he isaccessory _after_ the fact--I know he is not accessory _before_--isanother question. But his story, that to me is perfectly convincing, Iam afraid won't do before a jury and the world generally. It involvestoo much that is incredible, and damning to him secondarily if believed.We must try something else. As far as I can see, really, it seems thathis own suggestion of a defence, as you told it to me, has moresignificance in it than the absurdity you only saw. We must admit thekilling, and confine ourselves to showing excessive provocation. I knowsomething of the public sentiment here, and the sympathies of theaverage jury, and if Gabriel should tell them the story he has just toldme, they would hang him at once! Unfortunately for him, the facts show acomplication of property interests and impostures on the part of hiswife, of which he is perfectly innocent, and which are not really themotive of the murder, but which the jury would instantly accept as asufficient motive. We must fight, understand, this very story from theoutset; you will find it to be the theory of the prosecution; but if wecan keep him silent it cannot be proved except by him. The facts aresuch that if he had really committed the murder he could have defiedprosecution, but through his very stupidity and blind anxiety to shieldhis wife, he has absolutely fixed the guilt upon himself."

  "Then you don't think that Mrs. Conroy is the culprit?" asked Maxwell.

  "No," said Arthur; "she is capable, but not culpable. The real murdererhas never been suspected nor his presence known to One Horse Gulch. ButI must see him again, and Olly, and you must hunt up a Chinaman--one AhFe--whom Gabriel tells me brought him the note, and who is singularlyenough missing, now that he is wanted."

  "But you can't use a Chinaman's evidence before a jury?" interruptedMaxwell.

  "Not directly; but I can find Christian Caucasians who would be willingto swear to the facts he supplied them with. I shall get at the facts ina few days--and then, my dear fellow," continued Arthur, laying his handfamiliarly and patronisingly on the shoulder of his senior, "and thenyou and I will go to work to see how we can get rid of them."

  When Gabriel recounted the events of the day to Olly, and described hisinterview with Poinsett, she became furiously indignant. "And did thatman mean to say he don't know whether Gracey is livin' or dead? And hepertendin' to hev bin her bo?"

  "In coorse," explained Gabriel; "ye disremember, Olly, that Gracey neverhez let on to _me_, her own brother, whar she ez, and she wouldn't begoing to tell a stranger. Thar's them personals as she never answered!"

  "Mebbe she didn't want to speak to him ag'in," said Olly, fiercely,with a toss of her curls. "I'd like to know what he'd bin' sayin' toher--like his impudence. Enny how he ought to hev found her out, and shehis sweetheart! Why didn't he go right off to the Presidio? What did hecome back for? Not find her, indeed! Why, Gabe, do you suppose as Julywon't find _you_ out soon--why, I bet anythin' she knows jest whar youare" (Gabriel trembled and felt an inward sinking), "and is on'y waitin'to come forward to the trial. And yer you are taken in ag'in and fooledby these yer lawyers!--you old Gabe, you. Let me git at thetPhilip--Ashley Poinsett--thet's all!"