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Master Hand

<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> <h3>THE TRIAL CONCLUDED</h3> When I took my seat again the next day and looked about me upon a scene now become familiar, I entertained little hope of the result of the day's proceedings. I knew better than others how meagre was the evidence of the defence and I could not see how the unsupported testimony of the prisoner, even if he were physically capable of giving it coherently, could have much weight; and yet I knew that that was all Littell had to offer. But even I, as I was yet to learn, failed to appreciate the splendid abilities and resources of that man. When court was opened there was a longer delay than usual over that period of busy idleness that usually precedes the moment of getting down to work, and during this time it was plain from the remarks audible on all sides that every one was awaiting with expectancy the opening statement of Littell, for in it was looked for a key to the line of defence. Whether Littell felt he could argue the whole case to better advantage at a later stage, or whether he thought it wiser to leave unsatisfied to the latest moment the intense curiosity and interest he knew he had aroused, I do not know; but whatever his reason may have been, when signalled by the Judge, he rose only to say that he had no preliminary statement to make, but would leave it to the prisoner to tell his own story, and therein all the defence knew of the case, to the jury without preface. He added that they would find it a straightforward, credible statement which he believed would carry conviction; that it had been told to him voluntarily, and he was willing the Court and jury should hear it in the same way. He then called the prisoner to the stand, and I was gratified to see by the inquiring look he directed to Littell as soon as he had taken his place in the witness-box that Winters was fully conscious of what was demanded of him and prepared to meet it. Littell met his glance encouragingly, and in response asked him to relate all he knew concerning the death of White, and to tell of his own whereabouts and doings about the time of the occurrence. "Address the jury!" the lawyer concluded, and Winters obediently faced his judges and during all his testimony addressed his words directly to them. He spoke in a low voice, but very distinctly, each word being audible, and his manner was quiet and entirely free from anything suggesting defiance or cunning. It is not necessary that I should again repeat his story. It was given just as he had told it to me and subsequently to Littell and as I have already related it, and it seemed to me on this occasion, as on the previous ones, to bear the stamp of truth. It made an impression, as I could perceive, upon the jury also, but whether any of them believed it or not, I could not tell. The greater part of them I feared were saying to themselves "This man is clever" rather than "This man is innocent." During the entire recital, Littell kept his attention fixed on the jury, his keen gaze studying each countenance and trying to read there the impression made, but neither by sign nor word did he interrupt or endeavor to lead the witness. Evidently he was playing his best card, and, alas! his only one. There was a few moments interval after the conclusion of Winters's direct evidence while the prosecution consulted together before the District Attorney began his cross-examination, and during that time Winters sat listlessly in his chair, seemingly indifferent to his surroundings. I think his long siege of trouble and sickness must have more or less stupefied him or have made him callous, perhaps desperate. Whatever the cause, his mental attitude was probably the best possible one under the circumstances as it made it unlikely he would become either nervous or excited. The cross-examination proved a long and searching one, enough to tax the nerve of any ordinary man, but except for some signs of physical weakness, Winters remained perfectly composed, nor could the lawyers trip him up in any particular. He reiterated his story, piece by piece, in response to their questions, deviating in no particular from his first statement, while in new matters broached by them he was apparently entirely candid. He admitted the bad feeling he felt towards his cousin and charged it to the unfair provisions of his father's will. He confirmed Benton's testimony that he frequently demanded money of his cousin. He denied any knowledge of the contents of White's will and also denied that he had ever corresponded in any way with White, or that there was any secret between them. This last was in reply to questions by which the State's officers endeavored unsuccessfully to connect him with the letter found by Miles, as also with the conversation related by Belle Stanton. In no particular could they break down his testimony. They did, however, show by his own admissions, that he was an idler and a drunkard, and a man of bad reputation and associates, but his answers were so freely given that these facts lost some of their damaging effect. Altogether, he must have made about as favorable an impression as a man in his position could, but I could see no reason to hope that it had done more for him than possibly to excite the interest and in some degree the sympathy of the jury. When it came to Littell's turn to re-examine, he left his seat and, going over to the prisoner, took him by the arm and raised him to his feet. "Winters," he said, "I believe you have told all you know of the case, but before you leave the stand, I have one more question to ask you. I want you to tell this jury, and tell them upon the solemn oath you have taken, had you any hand in your cousin's death or any knowledge of it?" Winters looked at him and then at the jury before he spoke and then answered firmly: "I had not." "That is all," Littell said, and the witness returned to his place. There was a period of expectation,—everyone was waiting for something, you could feel it in the air,—till after awhile Littell, apparently in response to the silent question, leaned forward with a little expression of surprise and said in the most even tones: "That is all, your Honor, I have no further testimony to offer." The effect of this announcement was immediate; the air of expectation was banished and astonishment took its place; people exchanged glances of surprise—almost consternation: "Was this all there was to be to the defence; why! there was no defence." You could almost read the words in the expressions of those about you, but Littell seemed undisturbed and after a moment's hesitation the Judge announced an hour's recess with the expectation that the case would be concluded at a late session. It had been a long morning, for the proceedings had been late in beginning and the testimony of Winters had occupied several hours, and most of those within the rail, that is, those who were assured of regaining admission to the scene, hastened away upon the announcement to make the most of the opportunity for rest and refreshment. Not so with the spectators, however; there was scarcely a movement in that compact mass; for any of them to go was to resign their places to others—and the sacrifice was too great. I looked toward Littell in the hope that he would join me at lunch, but his head was bent over some papers and if he was conscious of my glance he gave no sign, and so I went out alone. When I returned he was still in the same attitude and I doubted if he had left his seat. One by one the others dropped in and resumed their places until, when the recess had expired and the session was resumed, all was in readiness to proceed. There was some delay, however, while the State's officers engaged in earnest consultation, till the attention of the Judge being attracted thereby, he looked up and peering inquiringly over his glasses in their direction said: "Well, gentlemen, are we ready?" At this the junior arose and asked permission to recall the defendant. General surprise was manifest at this request, and Littell offered prompt objection to its concession. In a few words he called attention to the fact that there had been no such re-direct examination of the defendant as to afford occasion for re-cross, and further insisted that as the witness had been permitted to leave the stand he could not be recalled; and he added pointedly that the prisoner was too exhausted to stand the strain of further examination—which fact his brother lawyers knew and were seeking to turn to their advantage. When, at the conclusion of these words, the District Attorney arose with severe mien to reply himself in place of his junior, I knew there was coming the usual indignant protest of injured innocence, and I listened with indifference to its eloquent vindication and then to the argument that followed. It was the first tilt of the trial between counsel and as usual proved a source of entertainment to the spectators, but to me it was weariness. Still, I gave attention while the lawyer told why he wished to recall the witness and why he should be allowed to do so, and argued that he had never said he was through with the witness and had never closed his case—through all of which the junior nodded approval, and Littell looked bored and occasionally interrupted, and the Judge remained expressionless—and so it went on and meanwhile the daylight faded in the room and the gas was lighted and the atmosphere, already oppressive, became almost stifling in its heat, and the crowd moved restlessly and men yawned, and I listened and listened in dull consciousness till, feeling satisfied that in the end the Court would rule for the defence, I slipped quietly from the room. Littell's summing up could alone affect the final result now, and in the meanwhile the quiet and the cool air of the corridor were welcome. As I paced up and down smoking a cigar and weighing in my mind the chances of the trial, I would occasionally get a momentary glimpse into the court-room as the door would swing open to permit the exit of some other weary spectator like myself, and in the hot glare of the gaslights the scene within would be visible through the doorway like a picture within a frame, the court with all its surrounding functionaries, the figure of the speaker gesticulating as he addressed the Judge, the form of the prisoner bowed and still between his guards, and in the foreground the dense throng of spectators, all in vivid relief. I can close my eyes and recall that picture even to this hour, but never without a feeling of overwhelming melancholy; so strong are the impressions some things leave upon us. After a while there was a stir within and some one said that the Court had sustained the objection of the defence and declined to permit the recall of the defendant, and that Littell was about to begin his final argument, and so I hurried back. He was already on his feet in the centre of the room and facing the jury. He had neither books nor memoranda by him and evidently relied upon his memory for all he meant to say. His voice was deep and serious when he began to speak: "I have been practising my profession, as your Honor knows, for forty years and this is the first as it is the last time that I appear before a criminal tribunal; only a sense of imperative duty as a lawyer and as a man has brought me here to-day; could I with a clear conscience have escaped this solemn duty, I would have done so, but a call higher than has ever appealed to me before has summoned me to the side of a man who is being wronged, and therefore it is I am here. "I am without the resources of my brother lawyers accustomed to practise in this court and I have, therefore, no facts to submit, except those presented by the witnesses for the State, and no evidence to offer, except that of the prisoner himself. "I believe the evidence of the State's witnesses to be substantially true and therefore have made no effort to cast doubt upon it, and I believe the testimony of the prisoner to be true, and, therefore, I rely upon it." Then in a more conversational tone he addressed himself to the jury. "The unusual feature of this case," he said, "is that while the testimony of the State would seem to make out the guilt of the prisoner, his own story makes out his innocence, and yet both are uncontradicted and are consistent with each other. I wish you to keep this in mind, because, if it be as I say and the story of the prisoner be not incredible, you cannot convict him; you must remember it is not the duty of the defence to prove the innocence of the accused, but that of the prosecution to establish his guilt. "It is going to be my effort now to demonstrate to you the truth of what I have said by an analysis of the evidence, and then I am going to do what is more than is demanded of me as counsel for the defendant,—I am going to try and point out to you not only the possibility of its having been some one else than the accused who committed this deed, but who that some one was." Then he took up the evidence piece by piece and analyzed it. Every doubt, every possibility in the case, which he and I had so often discussed together, was developed and presented to the jury in its strongest phase, till there appeared to be left no possible theory of the crime that could make consistent all the facts. The State's case seemed torn to shreds, and its evidence, which but a few moments before had seemed plain as day in its application, was now full of unsolvable mystery. I waited breathlessly to see where his wonderful logic and eloquence would finally lead him and us, while the jury hung in spellbound attention on his every word. Then, when he had each one helplessly at sea looking eagerly to him for some explanation that would fit the case and solve its doubts, he turned abruptly to the dock and pointing to the prisoner, said: "Forget that man; he did not do it! You must start afresh in this case if you are to find the murderer! "I may not tell you who he is; that is not my duty; but I will tell you what sort of a man he is, and why and how he did this deed. "It is all so plain that he who runs may read. "It was a man in White's own station in life, a man who knew him and knew his ways, his haunts, his very nature. "A man who was implicated with him in some wrong-doing and feared for his own safety while the weaker vessel shared the dangerous secret with him. "A man of pride whose reputation was dear to him; a man of resource and determination; one who did not know fear or hesitation. "That man, whoever he may be,—and such a one only killed White,—was the man for whom that half-written letter full of reproach and threats was meant, and it was such threats as those that drove him on to his terrible deed. "He came there that night after I and the others had left; he came probably to expostulate, or to plead, but he found the victim in a sleep, heavy from drink, and the weapon was at hand and it was the easier and the shorter and the sure way, and he killed him. "Then he put on the cap and ulster to disguise himself and he stuffed the money that was on the table in the pocket to mislead simple people and as he hurried away from the scene one bill dropped in the vestibule, where Winters, as he said, found it. "The ulster and the other bills he left at the house of Belle Stanton, the place most likely again to confound the simple-minded, because the place where White was most apt to go at all hours. "Now that I have told how and why the crime was done, let the police go and find their man and bring him to you, and not ask you to make good their shortcomings by convicting this innocent prisoner. "Acquit him! Let him go free! He is only his own enemy! No such weakling ever did that deed! He is incapable of it! I tell you he is innocent! I know it!" His voice, which had been growing more and more impassioned till each note vibrated through the room, suddenly ceased and absolute stillness followed, till the voice of the Judge was heard addressing him in a low tone. "Mr. Littell," he was saying, "I cannot allow you to give your own opinions to the jury; it is contrary to the practice; you must confine yourself to the evidence." Littell stood erect, listening to the remonstrating words, and when they were concluded, replied gravely: "I have undertaken the defence of this man, your Honor, and the obligation it carries with it is above the rules of practice. That prisoner is innocent and I have only told this jury so, as was my duty. I have no more to say"; and he turned away and resumed his seat, but not till the last echo of his words had ceased did a man move in the court-room. All eyes remained fixed on the lawyer—unable to break the spell he had put upon them. That a change had come over the feelings of all there, could be felt. How much conviction he had carried to the Judge and jury, or how much of only wonder and uncertainty it was that I saw written in their faces, I could not tell, but all signs of listless indifference were gone, and in their place was tense feeling. I felt as though the wonderful insight of this man had worked a revelation. I had expected a great argument, but this word-picture of the nameless criminal and his crime was dreadful in its realism. When the District Attorney rose to begin his closing argument, he acted like a man confounded by an unexpected proposition, and groped about amid legal generalities till he felt his way. Then he caustically referred to his opponent's closing sentences as a brilliant bit of fancy fitting for a place in a stage setting, but with no proper place among the real things of life, and he admonished the jury to put it aside from their consideration till they should have dealt with the serious facts before them. Then he proceeded to a review of the case and again arrayed in order all the damaging facts of the evidence, which seemed to fix the crime on Winters. Throughout he received the close attention of the jury, but that he was entirely successful in eradicating the effect of Littell's speech seemed very doubtful. After he had finished, the Judge charged the jury. His review of the evidence was fair and impartial, but it necessarily told against the prisoner, to whose testimony he would only allow its proper balance of weight. He hesitated before he referred to Littell's argument as if doubtful just how to treat it, but at length said that the theories of the counsel could be considered only in so far as the evidence bore them out. He might have said more, but he, too, I thought, was unable to overcome entirely the effect the speech had had upon him. He then directed that the jury retire to decide upon their verdict, and announced to the lawyers his intention of waiting till twelve o'clock for their decision, in case they should reach an agreement by that time. When the Judge retired, most of the spectators and witnesses left the court-room, but the lawyers and reporters gathered about the trial table as is their custom—in interested discussion of the case. Littell, however, sat aside to himself with his head resting on his hand in a deep study. Several endeavored to congratulate him, but he only shook his head and turned away. "I fear it has been of no avail," he said to me. He was evidently thinking of the prisoner and not of himself. I refrained from any comment, but was doubtful of the State's chances of securing a verdict, and there were many opinions expressed to the same effect. The very persons who during the recess had taken conviction as a foregone conclusion were now not only doubtful of the verdict, but in some instances, I thought, even doubtful of the prisoner's guilt. No stronger evidence of Littell's masterful conduct of the case would have been needed even had the general opinion on the subject not been outspoken, but through it all Littell sat by indifferent. Time passed and when the hour of twelve came around, the Judge returned to the bench and all was decorum again. A bailiff was sent to inquire if the jury had agreed. It was but a matter of form, for all knew that had they done so, they would have reported it voluntarily; but still each man kept his place and waited with nervous expectation, while the court sat to receive the reply. In a few minutes the messenger returned and reported that there was no present prospect of an agreement that night, whereupon the court adjourned until ten in the morning. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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