The Day of Judgment Part 40

"No, no." His voice was hoa.r.s.e and unnatural.

"But I will," she said. "Do you think my love is something that makes me helpless? Do you think I can stand by knowing that you are innocent, and allowing you to appear guilty of such a crime? I don't love you for nothing, Paul. I love you to serve you--to save you."

Never, even in those hours when he had thought most fondly of her, had he dreamt of the depths of her nature, or thought of what she was capable. Now he realised that Mary Bolitho was no ordinary woman, that all along there had been depths in her being which he had never fathomed, knew that she meant what she said.

"No, no, Mary," he repeated, "you must not. If you love me, you will promise me this. You will promise to be silent. You will promise that you will give no hint or suggestion of what you fancied. Besides, I'm guilty, Mary. I'm guilty, Mary. That is, promise me, for the love you bear me."

There were footsteps in the stone corridor outside. It was a warder coming to tell her that her time was up, and that she must leave him.

"Promise me, Mary." He caught her and held her close to him. "Tell me you'll do nothing!" he cried.

"On one condition I will," was her answer.

"What is it?" he asked eagerly.

"That you'll tell the truth before my father and the jury."

"Your father?"

"Yes, did you not know? He is the judge who has to try the case."

"Then, then, Mary, promise me----"

The key turned in the lock, and Mary and Paul separated. Neither had made a promise.

Presently Mary Bolitho went back to her hotel, where she sat in her room alone for hours, thinking and planning; while Paul Stepaside sat in his cell, with heaven in his heart; yes, heaven, even although he suffered the torments of h.e.l.l.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FIRST DAY OF THE TRIAL

It was the morning of the trial, and the a.s.size Court was crowded.

Before daylight a number of people, hungry for excitement, had hung round the strangers' entrance, and as soon as the doors were opened had rushed with a kind of savage curiosity to the part of the hall where the public was admitted. Long before the trial was opened every inch of s.p.a.ce was occupied by a seething, excited crowd. So great was the interest created that many, who might not have been expected to witness the scene, were so eager to be present that the officials were inundated with applications for admission. Long before the court began its sitting, the air was hot and tense with eager curiosity. Some, indeed, talked casually and carelessly, as though a murder trial were an everyday occurrence, but in the main the atmosphere was electric.

Men's faces were set and stern, and more than one woman showed signs of hysteria. Outside, a great throng of people, who were unable to gain admission, waited as if held by a spell. The ushers found difficulty in maintaining anything like order. The hum of voices was heard everywhere.

"I wonder how he'll look," said one. "I'll warrant he'll be as pale as death."

"Nay," said another, "he's noan that soort. He'll look as proud as ever. He'll mak it seem as though we were th' murderers, and he wur innocent."

"Ay, but he must have had a terrible time!" said another. "He's been waiting there for weeks. Just think of it! I've heerd he's given in, too."

"Given in? What dost a' mean?"

"Ay, I've heerd as 'ow he's consented to have a counsel."

"Who has he got, then?"

"I don't know for certain, but it is said that young Mr. Springfield hev took on th' job."

"But he can noan clear hissen."

"I'm noan so sure. He's a rare clever chap, is Paul!"

"It would be fun to see him swing, wouldn't it? It's a shame that they hang people in private now, instead of in public like they used to."

And so on. To them it was like a scene in a theatre. Their appet.i.tes were morbid, and they had come thither to appease their hunger.

One by one the barristers found their way to their seats. Clerks were busy writing at their desks, while the reporters sat at the table allotted to them, writing descriptive articles. To them the occasion offered a fine opportunity. It was no ordinary trial. Paul Stepaside was a young member of Parliament, and had become popular throughout the whole county. He had been freely discussed as a coming man. What wonder then that tongues wagged! What wonder the crowd eagerly waited his coming!

The murdered man, too, was well known in the county. He was a big employer of labour, and had freely moved in Lancas.h.i.+re society.

Sitting close to the barristers' seats, ladies belonging to some of the best families in Lancas.h.i.+re had gathered. They, too, were eager, hungry for excitement. Some of them were educated women, delicately nurtured, and it seemed strange that they should find an interest in such gruesome proceedings. Yet, with a kind of reversion to the savage instincts of former days, they had gathered with the rest. After all, civilisation is only a veneer, and the old, elementary, savage feelings lie dormant in it all.

"Bakewell's for the prosecution, I suppose," said one young barrister to another.

"Yes; and it couldn't be in better hands. I wish Stepaside were not such a fool!"

"Why, would you like the job?"

"Like it! I should think I would! It's one of the finest opportunities since I've been called."

"But he's no defence, man!"

"Oh, a defence could easily be made. It would give a fellow a splendid chance. You see the case is the talk of the country, and the question of motive has to figure largely. Why, the evidence could be riddled!

To say the least of it, one might get a verdict for manslaughter."

"You mean to say he won't give you the chance you want." And the other laughed.

"Anyhow, it seems jolly mean of him not to allow one to make the most of such an opportunity. You know Binkley, don't you? He's now making thousands a year. For years he used to hang around the courts, unable to get a brief, and then a case something like this turned up, and he acted for the prisoner."

"But he didn't get him off."

"No; but, don't you see, it gave him his chance. His cross-examination was clever, and his speech for the defence was so brilliant that it gave him a reputation. It made him! After that, briefs came in like mad. But I see time is up."

A minute later the clerk of the a.s.sizes came into the court. Then a great hush fell upon all present. From a door at the back of the hall came Mr. Justice Bolitho and took his seat. Immediately all eyes were turned towards him.

"Handsome, isn't he?"

"Yes; a striking figure of a man."

"Isn't it strange though? Only a year or two ago he and Stepaside fought for the Brunford seat. They ran neck and neck too, and he got in. Of course that was before he was made a judge. Do you know what Stepaside said when the figures were announced? He said that he and Bolitho would meet again, and always to fight; and now it's come to this!"

"Ay; and he appeared against him years ago, when he was up for the riot. Then he only got him sent to gaol for six months, and now it seems as though he'll put on the black cap and condemn him to be hanged. My word, though, I shouldn't like to be a judge!"

Judge Bolitho was indeed a striking figure as he sat there in his judicial robes and heavy wig. His features were large and commanding.

His eyes had the look of authority. His mouth was set and stern. He looked every inch of what he was, a representative of the dignity of the law, a man set apart to do justice--a cultured, able man, too, with fine, almost cla.s.sical features, even although they were somewhat heavy. Not a cruel man--at least he did not appear so; indeed, he was well known as one who could tell a good story and pa.s.s a timely joke.