Kitabı oku: «Under Orders: The story of a young reporter», sayfa 14
CHAPTER XXII.
TRIUMPHANTLY ACQUITTED
WHEN Myles appeared in the court-room the next morning it was with a pale face and heavy eyes after the anxious weariness of his sleepless night. He brightened somewhat under the influence of Billings’ cheering presence and words, and was comforted by his lawyer’s cordial hand-grasp and confident manner.
The counsel for the company announced that he was satisfied to rest his case upon the evidence already in. Then Captain Ellis, addressing the jury, said:
“You have listened patiently, gentlemen, to the charges brought against my client and the testimony offered to prove them true. Now I beg to claim your attention for a very short time to the testimony which I shall produce to disprove those charges, and show them to be based in part, if not wholly, upon falsehood and perjury.”
The captain then gave a rapid sketch of the former relations existing between Myles Manning and Ben Watkins. In conclusion he said:
“I shall not undertake to disprove that my client acted foolishly or wrongly upon the evening of his arrival at this place, though I might easily show how he was tempted and led on from one act of folly to another by those who sought his ruin. I shall, however, endeavor to prove beyond a doubt that he never sought by a dishonest or dishonorable word or action to conceal his folly or undo its effects. He had already confessed it, and fully atoned for it, before this cruel charge was brought against him.”
The captain first called and examined several witnesses who testified that Ben Watkins had owed them sums of money amounting in all to several hundred dollars, and that all of these debts had been paid within a week.
Having disposed of these witnesses, Captain Ellis said:
“I shall now place my client on the stand in order that the gentlemen of the jury may hear his side of the story from his own lips. When he has told it, I shall bring proof that what he has said is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
Myles’ account of all that had happened to him since his arrival at Mountain Junction was listened to with intense interest, though at some points a general expression of disbelief swept over the faces of his hearers. It was hard for them to believe that he could have overthrown Ben Watkins during the struggle between them in the superintendent’s office, for Ben looked the larger and stronger of the two young men.
Myles was, of course, subjected to a searching cross-examination by the other side, but he bore it unflinchingly, answering every question without hesitation, and without once contradicting himself.
When he was finally allowed to resume his seat, a buzz of approval came from the spectators, but it was promptly checked by the sheriff. Captain Ellis smiled as he heard it, and Billings nodded his head approvingly toward the spectators. It was evident to them that the tide of public feeling was turning in their favor.
Myles started as he heard the name of the next witness. It was Mr. Herbert Smedley, and Myles could hardly trust the evidence of his eyes when the handsome, self-possessed young fellow whom he had regarded as the wealthiest and most aristocratic of all his classmates nodded jauntily to him from the witness-stand. Myles could only remember how unkindly Bert had seemed to treat him when they last met, and wonder at his presence in this place. His surprise was increased when, in answer to Captain Ellis’ first question, he heard Bert declare himself to be the step-son of Mr. Saxon, the President of the A. & B. Road.
“Have you known Mr. Manning long?” was asked.
“Ever since we entered college together, nearly four years ago.”
“Was he known in college as an athlete?”
“I should say he was. He was the pride of the gymnasium.”
“Did he ever engage in wrestling-matches?”
“Whenever he had a chance. But he couldn’t find his match in college.”
“Did you ever see him wrestle with Mr. Watkins?”
“Who – Ben? Of course I did; and he threw him every time too.”
At this the buzz among the spectators almost broke out in open applause. Manning stock was evidently on the rise.
“Now,” said Captain Ellis, when the sensation produced by Bert Smedley’s testimony had subsided, “I shall call a witness by whom I hope to prove that part of my client’s story in which he described how the money that enabled him to pay his hotel bill came into his possession. Mr. William Biggs will please take the stand.”
At the sound of his name the big, uncouth-looking fellow whom Myles at once recognized as his cabin acquaintance, Bill, shuffled awkwardly toward the place pointed out to him. He was closely followed by the bull-dog Tige, who, however, was not noticed until he was seated close by his master’s side on the witness-stand.
“Put that dog out of the room,” commanded the judge, sternly.
The sheriff started forward to obey the order, but hesitated at Tige’s ominous growl and display of teeth.
“He won’t do no harm, Jedge. He’s a lamb, Tige is, onless he’s riled. But it’s resky to rile him,” said Bill, facing his Honor and quieting the dog at the same time.
So Tige was allowed to remain where he was, though every now and then he expressed his disapproval of the proceedings by a low growl.
Bill, who fortunately was able to read, identified the “Friend-in-Need” note, and described how it came into his possession.
Then Captain Ellis read the note aloud, and handed it to the clerk of the court to be filed as evidence.
The appearance of Bill and Tige on the witness-stand was as good as a circus to the spectators, and they appreciated it thoroughly.
Now they wondered what new sensation was in store for them, but they were not allowed to wonder long. The opposing counsel had hardly finished his cross-examination of Bill, whose answers were such as to completely baffle him, when Captain Ellis said:
“Now, your Honor and gentlemen of the jury, I am about to place upon the stand a person who was actually present at the famous wrestling-match so graphically described by both my client and Mr. Watkins. As their accounts differ very materially from each other, it is possible that the testimony of this witness may indicate which version of the affair is the true and which the false one. Is Jacob Allen in court? and, if so, will he please step forward?”
There was a moment of waiting, during which the spectators exchanged looks of surprise. Then, from the extreme back part of the room, Jacob Allen, the leader of the late strike, the man for whose arrest a reward was offered, appeared among them, and the crowd made way for him to pass.
As he stepped to the stand and turned a fearless gaze upon those before him, the lawyer for the company sprang to his feet and said:
“I object, your Honor, to the testimony of this man being received. His recent outrages have placed him in the position of a criminal for whose apprehension the company that I have the honor to represent offers a large reward, and for whom officers are now in search. In the name of the President of the A. & B. Railroad Company, I demand his immediate arrest.”
“Your Honor,” said Captain Ellis, “if I am not mistaken, Mr. Allen has in his possession a paper that not only relieves him from all fear of arrest, but grants him unconditional pardon for any alleged act of wrong committed against the A. & B. Railroad Company.”
“If you have such a paper as this gentleman suggests, I shall be pleased to examine it,” said the judge, turning to Allen.
The latter handed him a letter, which the judge read carefully. When he had finished it, he said:
“This letter not only contains a withdrawal of all charges against Jacob Allen, together with that of the reward offered for his apprehension, but it restores him to his old position as conductor on the A. & B. Road. It is signed by Walker B. Saxon, President, with whose signature I am perfectly familiar. Under these circumstances I shall be obliged to admit the testimony of this witness as legal evidence.”
So Jacob Allen was sworn, and allowed to tell his story. He told first how Myles Manning had rescued his boy from imminent peril, and how, out of gratitude, he had given him a pass that would insure him courteous treatment at the hands of any striker he might meet. He denied that Myles had ever afforded any information or aid to the strikers. He mentioned meeting the young reporter on the street the evening after that of little Bob’s rescue and hearing him inquire if he had seen any thing of Mr. Watkins. He told how, upon learning from him that the assistant superintendent was in his office, Mr. Manning had asked him to wait there a minute until he should return, and had entered the railroad building.
“Did you wait?” asked Captain Ellis.
“Yes, sir; I waited until I heard such a scuffling and crashing of furniture up there in the office that I felt it was time to go up and see if anybody was getting hurt.”
“What did you see?”
“I didn’t see any thing, for the light was out, but as I reached the office door, which was open, I heard Mr. Manning say, as nearly as I can repeat his words,
“‘Ben Watkins, I hope you realize that you are whipped, and that I have saved you from committing a State-prison offence. I don’t know why you wanted to set fire to this building, but it looks as if you wished to destroy the contents of that safe in such a way that the blame should be laid upon the strikers. I don’t know what those contents are, but they must be of value to the company. It is evident that you are not fit to be trusted with them. If you will put them back, lock the safe, and give me the key to keep until your uncle returns, I will then give it back to you. As I don’t want to see an old classmate disgraced, I will agree to say nothing of this night’s work so long as you do not compel me to.’
“Then I heard Mr. Watkins agree to do as Mr. Manning said, and with that I heard them both get up from the floor. They lighted a lamp, and I saw that the books and papers from the safe were scattered all around. Mr. Watkins picked them up, put them back in the safe, locked it, and handed the key to Mr. Manning. Then Mr. Manning started to leave the office, and I slipped out ahead of him so quietly that neither of them suspected I had been there.
“When Mr. Manning came down I gave him the bit of a pass I had written for him. Then he hurried away. An hour or so after that, as I was going home, I saw Mr. Watkins stop at the post-office door as if he were mailing a letter.”
All this had been listened to with breathless interest, and when Allen ceased speaking a sound like a great sigh of relief rose from the spectators. They all knew Jacob Allen to be a man of such sterling honesty that “as honest as Jake Allen” had become a saying in the town. He had never been known to tell a lie, and it was not likely that he was telling one now.
Allen’s cross-examination was long and severe, but it failed to alter his statements by a single word.
Captain Ellis himself took the stand for the purpose of testifying to the sending back of the safe-key by Myles the moment he heard of the superintendent’s return.
Finally a hotel bell-boy testified that, late on the night of Mr. Manning’s arrival at the house, Mr. Watkins had sent him to the telegraph office with a short dispatch.
A copy of the message sent to the Phonograph accusing Myles of intoxication was read by Captain Ellis, and the operator testified to having sent it late that night and that it was in Watkins’ handwriting.
With this the examination of witnesses came to an end, and the counsel for the company rose to make his closing argument. He dwelt at length on Myles’ behavior when he first came to the town, claiming that it alone was sufficient to prove him capable of other acts of folly and even crime. He also attacked the character of the chief witness for the defence, Jacob Allen, and said that his late actions now rendered him unworthy of belief even under oath. He trusted that in weighing the value of the testimony given by Mr. Watkins and the person accused of this great crime the jury would consider their respective positions in life. The one, he said, was a gentleman filling a most important position, in which he enjoyed the fullest confidence of his superiors, while the other was but a reporter, whose business was the fabrication of interesting stories. After talking for nearly an hour in this style, and arousing the violent wrath of Billings, the prosecuting lawyer concluded with an expression of confidence that the jury would find a verdict for the plaintiff, and sat down.
Now came the turn of Captain Ellis. In a manly, straightforward address that lasted half an hour he gave the history of the case, and showed how, by a perfectly natural course of events, an innocent and unsuspecting person had become involved in a tangled web of circumstantial evidence that caused him to be accused of a crime. He pointed out clearly that a desire for revenge and an urgent need of money, together with an offered opportunity for taking it, might readily have led Ben Watkins to rob the safe and then seek to fasten the crime upon another. He told the story of Myles’ splendid act in saving from disaster the train with the 50th Regiment on board, and asked the jury if they thought it possible for a person who would commit the one act, to be capable of performing the other. He referred to the remarkable character for honesty and truthfulness that Jacob Allen had borne for years. He answered his opponent’s slur upon reporters by speaking of them as gentlemen whose position was as honorable and important as that of any class of men in the world, and he finally ended by saying that he was willing to rest his case with the jury upon the merits of its evidence alone.
The judge summed up the main points of the case in a few brief and clearly worded sentences. Then he informed the jury that they might retire and consider their verdict.
Without leaving their seats the twelve jurymen, who had watched the case with a deep interest, whispered together for a moment. Then the foreman rose and said:
“May it please the Court, we do not find it necessary to retire, as our minds are already fully made up, and we are unanimously agreed as to the verdict.”
A breathless silence reigned over the court-room. Myles felt as though his very heart had ceased its beating, while Ben Watkins’ face assumed a deathly pallor.
“Very well, Mr. Foreman,” replied the judge, “the Court awaits your verdict.”
“It is, ‘Not guilty,’” said the foreman, speaking in a loud, clear voice.
At these words the young reporter’s overstrained nerves gave way, and burying his face in his arms on the table before him, he gave one great gasping sob of joy.
The next instant Billings grasped his hand, crying out as he shook it:
“It’s all right, old man. Your space has been measured and the full bill is allowed.”
“Silence!” roared the sheriff; “silence in court!”
But for the next minute or two he might as well have commanded the wind to keep silence. The spectators couldn’t help cheering, and as many of them as could get near him just had to shake hands with Myles Manning.
As soon as a little quiet was restored and he could make himself heard the judge ordered the sheriff to arrest Ben Watkins on the charge of perjury. That officer attempted to obey the order, but it was too late; Ben had disappeared. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion that followed the verdict he had slipped from the court-room. Five minutes later he was on board a fast train westward bound; nor from that day to this has any thing been heard from him directly. He is supposed to be in one of the new mining regions of the far West, but as the railroad company have not seen fit to prefer a charge against him for robbing their safe, nobody has cared to look him up.
As for Myles, the world never seemed so bright and joyous to him as when he stepped from that court-room honorably acquitted of the dreadful charge that had threatened to cloud his whole life. Accompanied by Billings, Captain Ellis, and Bert Smedley, he walked to the hotel, and almost every person they met on the way stopped to shake hands with him, or greeted him with a bow and a smile.
The good news had already travelled far beyond Mountain Junction. Billings had dispatched two messages from the court-room, one to Mrs. Manning and one to the Phonograph. Captain Ellis had sent one to the colonel of the 50th Regiment N. G. S. N. Y., and Bert Smedley had sent one to Mr. Saxon. Answers to these began to arrive soon after the party reached the hotel. The first was,
“We never for a moment doubted result. Come home quickly.
“Kate.”
From Mr. Haxall came the words:
“The Phonograph is proud of its representative, and congratulates itself as heartily as it does you.”
A dispatch from the general officers of the A. & B. Railroad contained the words:
“This company would not have brought suit against you had it not felt certain of defeat. Accept heartiest congratulations, and come home with Bert as soon as you reach New York.
“Walker B. Saxon, President.”
The fourth message to come flying over the wires to Myles was:
“The 50th rejoices over your victory, and is under orders to celebrate – Fizz, Boom, Ti-gah! Signed, Pepper, Colonel, and a thousand other friends.”
The fast express of that afternoon bore Myles and his three faithful friends away from the scene of the young reporter’s recent trials and triumphs. As it left the Mountain Junction station it was followed by a hearty round of cheers from a crowd of people. They were led by Jacob Allen and little Bob and by Bill Biggs and Tige, the bull-dog.
Billings had seen to it that the Phonograph should have a full description of the trial and its glorious ending. When Myles read it the next morning it was with a greater pride than he had taken in that other account of himself published some ten days before, but it was a pride tempered with humility and sincere gratitude.
As the train rolled into the New York station it was greeted by the familiar cheer of the 50th Regiment. There, in full uniform, drawn up in perfect line, was Captain Ellis’ company, to whom had been accorded the honor of welcoming home the new honorary member of the regiment. His name is inscribed upon the roll as “Myles Manning, the hero of Mountain Junction.”
Myles, Bert, and Billings, breakfasted with President Saxon of the A. & B. Road. When the first-named of these guests ventured to ask this friend why he had taken such an interest in him and his affairs, the other smilingly answered:
“For Bert’s sake, and because he asked me to, in the first place; afterward, because you proved yourself worthy of it. I knew of you through Bert long before you found it necessary to leave college, but when, on the very day that you did leave it, he came to me and asked me to do something for you, I said that I must first know you personally and study your character.”
“And to think,” said Myles, turning to Bert, “that I should have so misjudged you, and considered you as only a friend in prosperity who would desert a fellow in his time of need!”
“I wish,” remarked Billings, plaintively, “that somebody would arrest me, and give me a chance to prove how truly good I am. My failing seems to be that I am beyond all hope of suspicion.”
At the Phonograph office Myles was received with hearty congratulations.
Of all his triumphs his welcome home was the greatest and best. His mother’s happy tears, Kate’s proud smiles, and his father’s “I am well satisfied with you, my son,” were more than worth the trials that had won them.
••••••••
All this happened some years ago, and since then time has worked many changes. Van Cleef, for instance, is one of the cleverest and best-informed editorial writers on the Phonograph, of which Rolfe is managing editor, and the original and only Billings is the valued Washington correspondent. Myles Manning remained on the paper until he had made an enviable reputation for himself as a space writer and stood at the head of the reporters’ list. Then he resigned to accept a fine position as a foreign writer for one of the great illustrated magazines.
His articles appear in the magazine, illustrated by charming sketches signed “K. M.”; for his sister Kate travels with him wherever he goes. Every now and then they find time to visit their parents in London, where Mr. Manning, entirely recovered from his blindness, is the trusted financial agent of the A. & B. Railroad Company of New York.
With all his prosperity, and with all the freedom of action that his magazine allows him, Myles never for a moment forgets that he is still “under orders.” He has won a reputation for prompt obedience to them, and his superior officers consider that they cannot praise him more highly than by saying:
“Myles Manning never fails us. He can always be depended upon to carry out our instructions to the very letter.”
