The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II

“A great many more,” said Hipsley. “Now, Morris, attend to me. Sam asked the police to assist him, as he had cut his hand with a reaping-hook?”

“He did, indeed, sir,” said the witness; “and a dreadful cut it was. It was hard for him to get his hand into the sleeve of the jacket.”

“I perceive; he had difficulty in putting on the jacket, but the policemen helped him?”

“They did, sir; and one of them was hurting him, and Sam called out, ‘Take care, take care. It’s better to cut the ould sleeve; it’s not worth much, now.’”

“And did they cut it?”

“They did, sir; they ripped it up all the way to the elbow.”

“That was a pity, was n’t it, to rip up a fine frieze coat like that?”

“Oh, it was n’t his coat at all, sir. It was only a flannel jacket he had for working in.”

“So, then, he did not wear the blue-gray frieze like your son’s when he went to jail?”

“No, sir. He wore a jacket.”

“Now, why was that?”

“Sorry one o’ me knows; but I remember he didn’t wear it.”

“Did n’t I say that I left my coat at the bog, and that I was ashamed to go in the ould jacket?” screamed out Meekins, whose earnestness was above all control.

“If this go on, it is impossible that I can continue to conduct this case, my Lord,” said Wallace. “While no attempt has been made to refute one tittle of the great facts I have mentioned, a system of trick has been resorted to, by which my client’s credit is sought to be impugned. What care I if he was known by a hundred nicknames? He has told the court already that he has lived a life of reckless adventure; that he has sailed under every flag and in every kind of enterprise. Mayhap, amid his varied characters, he has played that of a land bailiff; nor is it very strange that he should not wish to parade before the world the fact of his being arrested, even under a false accusation; for he was discharged, as he has just told you, two days after.”

A large bundle, carefully sealed, was now carried into the court, and deposited before Mr. Hipsley, who, after a few seconds’ consultation with Grounsell, rose, and addressed the court, —

“My learned friend complains of being surprised; he will, perhaps, have a better right to be so in a few moments hence. I now demand that this man be consigned to the dock. These affidavits are all regular, my Lord, and the evidence I purpose to lay before you will very soon confirm them.”

The judge briefly scanned the papers before him; and, by a gesture, the command was issued, and Meekins, who never uttered a word, was conducted within the dock.

“I will merely ask the witness two or three questions more,” added Hipsley, turning towards the jailer, who alone, of all the assembly, looked on without any wonderment.

“Now, witness, when did you see the prisoner wear the blue-gray coat? After the death of Mr. Godfrey, I mean.”

“I never seen him wear it again,” was the answer.

“How could ye?” cried Meekins, in a hoarse voice. “How could ye? I sailed for America the day after I was set at liberty.”

“Be silent, sir,” said the prisoner’s counsel, who, suffering greatly from the injury of these interruptions, now assumed a look of angry impatience; while, with the craft of his calling, he began already to suspect that a mine was about to be sprung beneath him.

“You have told us,” said Hipsley, – and, as he spoke, his words came with an impressive slowness that made them fall deep into every heart around, – “You have told us that the coat worn habitually by the prisoner, up to the day of Mr. Godfrey’s murder, you never saw on him after that day. Is that true?”

“It is, sir.”

“You have also said that this coat – part of a piece from which your son had a coat – was of a peculiar color?”

“It was, sir; and more than that, they had both the same cut, only Sam’s had horn buttons, and my son’s was metal.”

“Do you think, then, from the circumstances you have just mentioned, that you could know that coat if you were to see it again?”

A pause followed, and the witness, instead of answering, sat with his eyes fixed upon the dock, where the prisoner, with both hands grasping the iron spikes, stood, his glaring eyeballs riveted upon the old man’s face, with an expression of earnestness and terror actually horrible to witness.

“Look at me, Morris,” said Hipsley, “and answer my question. Would you know this coat again?”

“That is, would you swear to it?” interposed the opposite counsel.

“I believe I would, sir,” was the answer.

“You must be sure, my good man. Belief is too vague for us here,” said the prisoner’s lawyer.

“Is this it?” said the solicitor, as, breaking the seals of the parcel before him, he held up a coat, which, ragged and eaten by worms, seemed of a far darker color than that described by witness.

The old man took it in his hands and examined it over carefully, inspecting with all the minute curiosity of age every portion of the garment The suspense at this moment was terrible; not a syllable was spoken; not a breath stirred; nothing but the long-drawn respirations of the prisoner, who, still leaning on the iron railing of the dock, watched the old man’s motions with the most harrowing intensity.

“Let me see it on him,” said the witness, at last

“Prisoner, put on that coat,” said the judge.

Meekins tried to smile as he proceeded to obey; but the effort was too much, and the features became fixed into one rigid expression, resembling the look of hysteric laughter.

“Well, do you know me now?” cried he, in a voice whose every accent rang with a tone of intimidation and defiance.

“I do,” said the witness, boldly. “I ‘ll swear to that coat, my Lord, and I ‘ll prove I ‘m right. It was the same stuffing put into both collars; and if I ‘m telling you the truth, it ‘s a piece of ould corduroy is in that one there.”

The very grave was not more still than the court as the officer of the jail, taking off the coat, ripped up the collar, and held up in his hand a small piece of tarnished corduroy.

“My Lord! my Lord! will you let a poor man’s life be swore away – ”

“Silence, sir, – be still, I say,” cried the prisoner’s counsel, who saw the irremediable injury of these passionate appeals. “I am here to conduct your defence, and I will not be interfered with. Your Lordship will admit that this proceeding has all the character of surprise. We were perfectly unprepared for the line my learned friend has taken – ”

“Permit me to interrupt the counsel, my Lord. I need scarcely appeal to this court to vindicate me against any imputation such as the learned gentleman opposite would apply to me. Your Lordship’s venerable predecessors on that bench have more than once borne witness to the fairness and even the lenity of the manner in which the crown prosecutions have been conducted. Any attempt to surprise, any effort to entrap a prisoner, would be as unworthy of us as it would be impossible in a court over which you preside. The testimony which the witness has just given, the extraordinary light his evidence has just shown, was only made available to ourselves by one of those circumstances in which we see a manifestation of the terrible judgment of God upon him who sheds the blood of his fellow-man. Yes, my Lord, if any case can merit the designation of Providential intervention, it is this one. Every step of this singular history is marked by this awful characteristic. It is the nephew of the murdered man by whom the first trace of crime has been detected. It is by him that we have been enabled to bring the prisoner into that dock. It is by him that a revelation has been made which, had it not occurred in our own day and under our own eyes, we should be disposed to class amongst the creations of fiction. The learned counsel has told you that these articles of clothing have been produced here by surprise. This affidavit is the shortest answer to that suspicion. From this you will see that, early this morning, young Mr. Dalton requested that two magistrates of the city should be brought to his bedside, to take down the details of an important declaration. The fever which for several days back had oppressed him, had abated for the time, and he was, although weak and low, calm and collected in all his faculties. It was then, with remarkable accuracy, and in a manner totally free from agitation, that he made the following singular revelation.” The counsel then recited, at more length than would suit our reader’s patience to follow, the story of Frank’s visit to Ireland when a boy, and his accidental presence in the grounds of Corrig-O’Neal on the very night of the murder. “At first the magistrates were disposed to regard this revelation as the mere dream of an erring intellect; but when he described every feature of the locality, and the most intricate details of scenery, their opinion was changed; and when at last he designated the exact spot where he had seen a large bundle buried, it only needed that this should be confirmed to establish the strict truth of all he alleged. With every care and precaution Against deception, the magistrates proceeded to visit the place. They were accompanied by several persons of character and station, in presence of whom the examination was made. So accurate was the narrative, that they found the spot without difficulty, and, on digging down about two feet, they came upon the articles which you now see before you. These, without any examination, they at once sealed up in presence of the witnesses, and here for the first time have they been displayed to view.”

As the counsel had reached thus far, the fall of a heavy body resounded through the court, and the cry was raised that the prisoner had been seized with a fit.

“No, my Lord,” exclaimed the lawyer; “fatigue and weariness alone have produced this effect. My unhappy client is no more proof against exhaustion than against slander.”

“My Lord! my Lord!” cried the prisoner, as, holding by the spikes of the dock, he leaned forwards over it, “can’t I get justice? Is it my coat – ”

“Sit down, sir,” said his counsel, angrily; “leave this to me.”

“What do you care what becomes of me?” cried the other, rudely. “Where’s Father Cahill? Where’s – ” At this instant his eyes met those of D’Esmonde, as, seated in the gallery immediately above him, he watched the proceedings with an agonizing interest only second to the prisoner’s own. “Oh, look what you’ve brought me to!” cried he, in an accent of heart-broken misery; “oh, see where I’m standing now!”

The utterance of these words sent a thrill through the court, and the judge was obliged to remind the prisoner that he was but endangering his own safety by these rash interruptions.

“Sure I know it, my Lord; sure I feel it,” cried he, sobbing; “but what help have I? Is there no one to stand by me? You’re looking for marks of blood, ain’t ye?” screamed he to the jury, who were now examining the coat and cap with great attention. “And there it is now, – there it is!” cried he, wildly, as his eyes detected a folded paper that one of the jurymen had just taken from the coat-pocket “What could I get by it? – sure the will could n’t do me any harm.”