The Catholic World Volume Iii Part 134

"Oh! she, I imagine, is safe ahead there at the Grange. At any rate, she has not returned up the line; every station has been watched, and they would have telegraphed to me."

O the dreariness of that drive! Rain poured down from the leaden, lowering sky and concentrated into a thick midst over the dismal wolds. Patter, patter, slush, slush, as we drove along the wet miry roads, the horses urged on to the utmost of their wretched, broken-down speed; and the damp chill air penetrating the old rotten vehicle and entering the very marrow of one's bones. So we arrived at last before a low stone lodge that guarded some ponderous iron gates.

A gaunt ill-favored man came out at the sound of the wheels, and stared at us in no friendly manner.

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"Whar are ye from?" ho called out.

"From Mr. Wilmot," answered the inspector.

"Dunna b'lieve ye. Orders is for ne'run to go up to the house."

Keene opened the door of the fly and sprang out.

"Look here, my man," he said, producing his staff; "I'm a police-officer from London, and I've come down here about the murder of your master. Open the gate in the name of the law!"

The man stared, pulled the keys out of his pocket, unlocked the gates and threw them open. The inspector jumped up beside the driver and bade him go on.

A short avenue, lined on either side with magnificent trees, brought us to the gate of extensive but ill-kept pleasure-grounds, and so to the stone portico of the Grange. A peal of the bell brought an old woman to the door, who peered out suspiciously, and demanded what we wanted.

"I am a detective-officer from London, and have a warrant for searching this house;" and Keene putting the old hag aside, we pa.s.sed into the hall.

"Ye mun show me yer warrant or I'll have ye put out agin in double-quick time," she said, scowling at the inspector. For reply the staff of office was again out of his pocket in a twinkling, and flourished before her eyes.

"You take yourself off and show us over the house instantly, or it will be the worse for you."

The woman cowered, and muttering to herself, led the way across the s.p.a.cious hall, and threw open a door on the left. The house apparently was a low rambling building of ancient date, with panelled walls and high cas.e.m.e.nt-windows. We traversed several rooms, bare in furniture and that struck one with a sense of utter cheerlessness and want of comfort. This, then, was the desolate isolated house which Gilbert Thorneley had owned and yet shunned so carefully during life; this was the place where his idiot boy had probably dragged on the greater number of his miserable years. But I need not dwell upon our search through the house.

High and low Inspector Keene ranged; looking into cupboards and dark closets, sounding the panelled walls and poking at imaginary trapdoors. With the exception of the old crone, who accompanied us, and a great tabby cat lying before the kitchen-fire, no trace of living soul was visible.

"Where's young Mr. Thorneley?" said the inspector to her when our visitation was made.

"Never heard on him."

"Who lives here?"

"Only myself."

"Where's the lady who came here yesterday evening?"

A curious gleam shot from the old woman's eyes.

"Dunno; no lady here."

"I shall take you into custody, if you won't tell."

"Then you mun do it--I'se nothing to say."

Keene turned to me.

"Our visit has been useless, sir. I used the threat, but I can't take the woman on no charge; there is nothing left but to--"

Hark! what sound was that which rang out upon our ears, which made our hair stand on end, and our hearts stand still! Shriek upon shriek of the most horrible, wild, unearthly laughter pealing from somewhere overhead. The old woman made a dash forward to the staircase, and called some name that was drowned in the echoes of that terrible mirth. But in a second we had bounded past her and up the flight of stairs, and there, at the far end of the corridor, gesticulating and jabbering at us as we approached him with all the fearful, revolting madness of idiocy, was the man in whose features was stamped the perfect likeness of old Gilbert Thorneley.

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CHAPTER IX.

THE TRIAL.

Inspector Keene's third point had been followed up and worked out: Francis Gilbert Thorneley, the lost heir was found; and the living evidence in favor of the will I had made was in our actual possession.

That it should be so seemed a merciful interposition of Providence; for we had little doubt but that it had been intended I should, under the influence of the stupefying drug administered by Do Vos, be delayed on my journey, and so give time for him or the housekeeper, or both, to visit the Grange and effect whatever purpose they had in view. What had defeated them, or caused their failure, remained as yet a mystery. Equally mysterious was the way in which both the conspirators had managed to elude the vigilance of the police; and bitter seemed the Inspector's disappointment when, on arriving in London, he found no intelligence awaiting him of either man or woman.

We brought up the poor idiot with us; and I took him to my own chambers, engaging a proper attendant to take charge of him, recommended by the physician whom I called in to examine him. He seemed to be perfectly harmless, and tractable as a child, but totally bereft of sense or reason, amusing himself with toys, picture-books, and other infantile diversions, by the hour. We tried to get some coherent account of himself from him, but to no purpose; he knew his name and the name of the old man and woman who had been his sole guardians and companions, apparently for years. But beyond that, no information could be elicited; and to all questions he would reply with some sort of childish babble or jabber. This was the heir to old Thorneley's immense wealth.

There now remained the two other points marked by the Inspector to follow up. Oh! how time was fast rus.h.i.+ng on!--time that was so precious for life or death--and so little done as yet toward clearing away all that mountain of condemning evidence which would infallibly, in the eyes of any English jury, bring sentence of death upon the suspected murderer. The question forever rang in my ears, "_Who_ bought that grain of strychnine on the 23d of October?" Upon the discovery and identification of that person both Merrivale and myself, as also the counsel whom he had engaged for the defence, felt everything would hang. But up to the present moment, except in our own minds, not the shadow of a clue could be found. The 16th November, the day appointed for the trial of Hugh Atherton, approached with terrible nearness; and our confidence in all but G.o.d's mercy and justice was ebbing fast away. After finding and bringing the lost heir to London, I wrote to Atherton by Merrivale, detailing all that old Thorneley had confided to me, the contents of the will, and my journey into Lincolns.h.i.+re. I wrote, entreating him to see me; to let no cloud come between us, who had been such close friends from boyhood, at such a moment; to turn a deaf ear to all influence that might suggest that I was acting otherwise than I had always done toward him. I wrote all the bitter sorrow of my heart at having been forced involuntarily to give evidence that might be turned against him; all the self-reproach I felt for not having yielded to his wish of returning home with me that terrible evening.

He answered me in cold distant words, that _under the circ.u.mstances_ it was best we should not meet; that Merrivale would act for him in all as he judged best; that he did not wish to be disturbed again before his trial. I showed the letter to Merrivale, and he told me he could not make it out, for that Hugh was quite unreserved with him on all points save this, and {752} to every suggestion he had made to him of seeing me, he had invariably given the same reply, and declined to enter upon the subject. Then I had recourse to Ada Leslie; but she only obtained the same result.

"I told him, guardian," she said, "how true you were to him, how earnest and indefatigable in doing all you could for him, how sure I was that you loved him better than any thing on earth. But all the answer I got was, 'No, Ada; not better than anything. Don't let us say anything more on the subject.' What can he mean? for I am sure he meant something particular."

Was it hard to look in her face, meet her clear trusting eyes, and answer back, "_You_ were right, Ada; he is laboring under some delusion?" Were they false words I spoke, my own heart giving them the lie? Thank G.o.d, no. I was true to her, true to him.

The time between my journey into Lincolns.h.i.+re and the day of the trial seems, on looking back, to be one dead blank, inasmuch as, do what we would, we were no nearer the solution of the mystery after those three weeks of research and watchfulness than we were on the morning succeeding the murder. There were the prolonged conferences of lawyers with counsel, of counsel with prisoner, of both with the detectives; and day by day I saw Merrivale's face growing more careworn, stern, and anxious; I saw both Inspector Keene's and Jones's baffled looks; and--worse, far worse than all--I saw Ada Leslie wasting away before me, withering beneath the blighting sorrow that had fallen upon her young life. Oh! the terrible anguish written upon that wan, worn face that would be lifted up to mine each time I saw her, the unspeakably painful eagerness of her tones as she would ask, "is there any news?"

and the touching calmness of her despairing look succeeding the answer which blasted the hopes that kept cruelly rising in her breast only to be crushed!

So the morning of the 16th of November dawned upon us. For the defence Merrivale had engaged two of the most acute lawyers and most eloquent pleaders then practising at the English bar, Sergeant Donaldson and Mr. Forster, Q.C. They were both personal friends of Hugh Atherton, both equally convinced of his innocence. On the part of the Crown the Solicitor-General, Sergeant Butler, and a Mr. Frost were retained--all eminent men. The judges sitting were the Lord Chief-Justice and Baron Watson. Although we arrived very early, the Court was crowded to suffocation; and it was only by help of the police-officers and authorities that we could find entrance, although engaged in the princ.i.p.al case coming on. Special reporters of the press, for London and the country, were eagerly clamoring for seats in the reporters'

bench; and even foreign journals had sent over their "own correspondents," such a general stir and sensation had the murder of Gilbert Thorneley made far and near.

Two or three trivial cases of embezzlement and stealing came first before the Common Sergeant, whilst preparations for the one great trial were made, the witnesses collected, and the counsel on either side holding their final conferences. At a quarter to eleven the Chief-Justice, followed by his brother judge, entered amidst profound silence and took his seat. They were both men who had grown old and gray in the administration of justice, who had for years sat in judgment upon the guilty and the not guilty--men whose ears were familiar with the details of almost every misery and crime known to human nature--men who had had their own griefs and trials; and on the venerable face of the superior judge many a deep furrow had been left to tell its tale, whether engraven by private sorrow, or sympathy for the ma.s.s of woe and suffering which pa.s.sed so constantly before his eyes. I had the honor of being personally acquainted {753} with his lords.h.i.+p. How well I remembered an evening, not so long ago, spent at his house with Hugh Atherton; when he, that eminent judge, that distinguished lawyer, had come up to me and talked of Hugh, of his talents, his eloquence, his growing reputation! I remembered the sad, wistful expression of his eye as it dwelt upon my friend, and the tone of his voice, as he said with a deep sigh, "If my boy had lived, I could have wished him to have been such a one as _he_." He remembered it also, if I might judge from the sorrowful gravity of his countenance. I was standing beside Merrivale beneath the prisoner's dock, facing the judge's chair; and in a few moments there was a rustle and stir throughout the court, and I saw the Chief-Justice pa.s.s his hand before his eyes for a brief second. Then was heard the loud harsh voice of the clerk of the court addressing some one before him:

"Philip Hugh Atherton, you stand there charged with the wilful murder of your uncle, Mr. Gilbert Thorneley. How say you, prisoner at the bar--are you guilty or not guilty?"

A voice, low, deep-toned, and thrilling in its distinctness, replied: "Not guilty, my lord; not guilty, so help me, O my G.o.d!" and turning round, once again my eyes met those of Hugh Atherton.

A great change had been wrought in him during the last three weeks, he had grown so thin and worn; and amongst the waving ma.s.ses of his dark hair I could trace many and many a silver thread. Twenty years could not have aged him more than these twenty days pa.s.sed in that felon's cell, beneath the imputation of that savage crime. Who could look at him and think him guilty; who could gaze upon his open, manly face, so n.o.ble in its expression of mingled firmness and gentleness, in its guileless innocence and conscious rect.i.tude of purpose, and say, "That man has committed murder"? My heart went out to him, as I looked on his familiar face once more, with all the love and honor with which I had ever cherished his friends.h.i.+p.

A special jury were then sworn in. All pa.s.sed unchallenged; and the Solicitor-General rose to open the case for the prosecution, and began by requesting that all the witnesses might be ordered to leave the court. It is needless to say that I had been subpoenaed by the crown to repeat the wretched evidence already given at the inquest; needless also to say that, not being personally present during the whole trial, I have drawn from the same sources as before for an account of it.

We had been given to understand that no other witnesses than those examined before the coroner would be called against the prisoner; why should they want more? They had enough evidence to bring down condemnation twice over. On the part of the defence I have before said up to that morning nothing fresh had been discovered that could in any way be used as a direct refutation of what had already been adduced, and would be brought forward again on this day.

After the examination of the medical men I was called into the witness-box, and examined by the Solicitor-General. To my former evidence I now added an account of what had pa.s.sed between myself and the murdered man on the evening of the 23d, the contents of the will, my journey to the Grange, and the discovery of Thorneley's idiot son.

I likewise gave an account of my visit with Jones to Blue-Anchor lane.

I noticed that this was ill-received by the Crown counsel; but the judges overruled the Solicitor-General's attempt to squash my statements, and insisted upon my having a full hearing. At the end Sergeant Donaldson rose to cross-question me.

"Did Mr. Thorneley mention in whose favor his previous will had been made?"

"He did not. Simply that he intended the will drawn up then to cancel all others."