The Trail of the Serpent (Detective Mystery). Мэри Элизабет БрэддонЧитать онлайн книгу.
her—had departed, secretly, in the dead of the night; choosing to sneak out of a window like a burglar, rather than to leave by the door, as the legitimate master of the house. Suspicion at once points to him; he is sought and found—where, gentlemen? Forty miles from the scene of the murder, with the money rifled from the cabinet of the murdered man in his possession, and with his coat-sleeve stained by the blood of his victim. These, gentlemen, are, in brief, the circumstances of this harrowing case; and I think you will agree with me that never did circumstantial evidence so clearly point out the true criminal. I shall now proceed to call the witnesses for the crown.”
There was a pause and a little bustle in the court, the waves of the human sea were agitated for a moment. The backers of the favourites, “Guilty” and “Gallows,” felt they had made safe books. During this pause, a man pushed his way through the crowd, up to the spot where the prisoner’s counsel was seated, and put a little dirty slip of paper into his hand. There was written on it only one word, a word of three letters. The counsel read it, and then tore the slip of paper into the smallest atoms it was possible to reduce it to, and threw the fragments on the floor at his feet; but a warm flush mounted to his face, hitherto so pale, and he prepared himself to watch the evidence.
Richard Marwood, who knew the strength of the evidence against him, and knew his powerlessness to controvert it, had listened to its recapitulation with the preoccupied air of a man whom the proceedings of the day in no way concerned. His abstracted manner had been noticed by the spectators, and much commented upon.
It was singular, but at this most important crisis it appeared as if his chief attention was attracted by Joseph Peters, for he kept his eyes intently fixed upon the corner where that individual stood. The eyes of the people, following the direction of Richard’s eyes, saw nothing but a little group of officials leaning over a corner of the gallery.
The crowd did not see what Richard saw, namely, the fingers of Mr. Peters slowly shaping seven letters—two words—four letters in the first word, and three letters in the second.
There lay before the prisoner a few sprigs of rue; he took them up one by one, and gathering them together into a little bouquet, placed them in his button-hole—the eyes of the multitude staring at him all the time.
Strange to say, this trifling action appeared to be so pleasing to Mr. Joseph Peters, that he danced, as involuntarily, the first steps of an extempore hornpipe, and being sharply called to order by the officials, relapsed into insignificance for the remainder of the trial.
Chapter IX
“Mad, Gentlemen of the Jury”
The first witness called was Richard’s mother. From one to another amidst the immense number of persons in that well-packed courtroom there ran a murmur of compassion for that helpless woman with the white, anguish-worn face, and the quivering lip which tried so vainly to be still. All in Slopperton who knew anything of Mrs. Marwood, knew her to be a proud woman; they knew how silently she had borne the wild conduct of her son; how deeply she had loved that son; and they could guess now the depth of the bitterness of her soul when called upon to utter words which must help to condemn him.
After the witness had been duly sworn, the counsel for the prosecution addressed her thus:
“We have every wish, madam, to spare your feelings; I know there is not one individual present who does not sympathize with you in the position in which you now stand. But the course of Justice is as inevitable as it is sometimes painful, and we must all of us yield to its stern necessities. You will be pleased to state how long it is since your son left his home?”
“Seven years—seven years last August.”
“Can you also state his reasons for leaving his home?”
“He had embarrassments in Slopperton—debts, which I have since his departure liquidated.”
“Can you tell me what species of debts?”
“They were—” she hesitated a little, “chiefly debts of honour.”
“Then am I to understand your son was a gambler?”
“He was unfortunately much addicted to cards.”
“To any other description of gambling?”
“Yes, to betting on the events of the turf.”
“He had fallen, I imagine, into bad companionship?”
She bowed her head, and in a faltering voice replied, “He had.”
“And he had acquired in Slopperton the reputation of being a scamp—a ne’er-do-well?”
“I am afraid he had.”
“We will not press you further on this very painful subject; we will proceed to his departure from home. Your son gave you no intimation of his intention of leaving Slopperton?”
“None whatever. The last words he said to me were, that he was sorry for the past, but that he had started on a bad road, and must go on to the end.”
In this manner the examination proceeded, the account of the discovery of the murder being elicited from the witness, whose horror at having to give the details was exceedingly painful to behold.
The prisoner’s counsel rose and addressed Mrs. Marwood.
“In examining you, madam, my learned friend has not asked you whether you had looked upon your son, the prisoner at the bar, as a good or a bad son. Will you be kind enough to state your impression on this subject?”
“Apart from his wild conduct, he was a good son. He was kind and affectionate, and I believe it was his regret for the grief his dissipation had caused me that drove him away from his home.”
“He was kind and affectionate. I am to understand, then, that his disposition was naturally good?”
“Naturally he had a most excellent disposition. He was universally beloved as a boy; the servants were excessively attached to him; he had a great love of animals—dogs followed him instinctively, as I believe they always do follow people who like them.”
“A very interesting trait, no doubt, in the prisoner’s disposition; but if we are to have so much charmingly minute description, I’m afraid we shall never conclude this trial,” said the opposite counsel. And a juryman, who had a ticket for a public dinner at four o’clock in his pocket, forgot himself so far that he applauded with the heels of his boots.
The prisoner’s counsel, regardless of the observation of his “learned friend,” proceeded.
“Madam,” he said, “had your son, before his departure from home, any serious illness?”
“The question is irrelevant,” said the judge.
“Pardon me, my lord. I shall not detain you long. I believe the question to be of importance. Permit me to proceed.”
Mrs. Marwood looked surprised by the question, but it came from her son’s advocate, and she did her best to answer it.
“My son had, shortly before his leaving home, a violent attack of brain-fever.”
“During which he was delirious?”
“Everybody is delirious in brain-fever,” said the judge. “This is trifling with the court, sir.”
The judge was rather inclined to snub the prisoner’s counsel; first, because he was a young and struggling man, and therefore ought to be snubbed; and secondly, because he had in a manner inferred that his lordship was deaf.
“Pardon me, my lord; you will see the drift of my question by-and-by.”
“I hope so, sir,” said his lordship, very testily.
“Was your son, madam, delirious during