ELMER L- 
 REIZENSTEIN 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 

 
ON TRIAL 
 
White, New York. 
 
 She had returned to the subject uppermost in her mind 
 
ON TRIAL 
 
 THE STORY OF A WOMAN AT BAY 
 
 BY 
 
 ELMER L. REIZENSTEIN 
 
 MADE INTO A BOOK FROM THE 
 PLAY OF THE SAME NAME 
 
 BY 
 
 D.JTORBETT 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 1915 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1915 
 BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I THE MURDER i 
 
 II I MEET WITH UNEXPECTED SUPPORT . . 18 
 
 III THE INQUEST 38 
 
 IV MRS. STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS .... 57 
 V I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS . . . . . 74 
 
 VI I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. 
 
 BURKE 99 
 
 VII I SET ABOUT GETTING DORIS'S STORY . 117 
 
 VIII A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS .... 134 
 
 IX THE STATE'S STRONG CASE . . . .151 
 
 X DORIS CREATES A SENSATION . . . .164 
 
 XI A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE . . . .188 
 
 XII AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER .... 204 
 
 XIII THE PRICE OF SAFETY . . . . . 222 
 
 XIV A WOMAN AT BAY 232 
 
 XV MAY'S FLIGHT 250 
 
 XVI A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 257 
 
 XVII SHIPWRECK 277 
 
 XVIII THE JURY DEBATES 297 
 
 XIX MR. GLOVER OBLIGES . . . . . .310 
 
 XX THE VERDICT 328 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 She had returned to the subject uppermost in her 
 
 mind Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 She heard her husband exclaim: "Strickland!" . 14 
 
 "My daddy brought him to me from Cleveland the 
 
 night he came home" 78 
 
 "I just knew I wouldn't go to sleep for the longest 
 
 while" . . 92 
 
 "I took it from my pocket and held it up" . . .114 
 
 And then had followed lies, and more lies, and then 
 
 more lies 242 
 
 "And he leaned across the table to kiss me" . . . 266 
 
 "I heard the woman say: 'You had better go home 
 
 with your father' "....... 290 
 
ON TRIAL 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE MURDER 
 
 So much that is inaccurate has appeared from 
 time to time in the newspapers all over the coun- 
 try about the Trask murder, and the subsequent 
 trial and acquittal of Robert Strickland, the de- 
 fendant, that I have felt constrained in justice to 
 all concerned to set matters right; not only by cor- 
 recting these inaccuracies, but by narrating for the 
 first time in detail some of the circumstances 
 which, for lack of a better word, I may describe 
 as extenuating, which undoubtedly influenced the 
 jury in coming to their decision. If to some peo- 
 ple I may seem to have been over-long in making 
 up my mind to adopt this course, I have two ex- 
 planations to offer for my procrastination: in the 
 first place, I have been, and still am, reluctant to 
 cause any additional suffering to a woman who 
 must have already reached the point beyond which 
 human endurance can hardly be expected to go, 
 by reopening wounds which Time itself can never 
 
2 ON TRIAL 
 
 fully heal ; secondly, I am conscious that my chief, 
 if not my only, equipment for the task I am about 
 to undertake is that I happen to be in possession 
 of all the facts in the case, many of which as any 
 lawyer will understand could not, for purely 
 technical reasons, be brought before a jury. 
 
 I may be pardoned, by way of introduction, for 
 saying a few words about myself to explain why 
 and how I happen to be the person upon whose 
 shoulders the responsibility for the performance 
 of these duties seems to rest. My name is Mal- 
 colm Arbuckle. For nearly twenty years I have 
 been known as a criminal lawyer, during which 
 period I have met with unusual success a cir- 
 cumstance which I attribute largely to fortune. 
 Certainly I wish to make no pretensions to the 
 possession of more than average ability, together 
 with perhaps a little more than average persist- 
 ence, a heritage of my Scottish blood. 
 
 In one way only has my career differed from 
 that of most of my confreres at the Bar: I have 
 never asked nor accepted for myself any fee from 
 my clients. The greater part of them, indeed, 
 would have been unable to pay me had I done so. 
 
THE MURDER 3 
 
 In the rare cases where, out of gratitude for such 
 services as I have been able to render them, my 
 clients have insisted upon paying me a fee, the 
 sum has eventually been turned over to some char- 
 ity upon the worthiness of which I have satisfied 
 myself after careful inquiry. This conduct on 
 my part has frequently been described as eccentric. 
 But to all such criticism I am completely indif- 
 ferent. 
 
 Left an orphan at an early age, and discovering 
 upon attaining my majority that I was the pos- 
 sessor of a fortune giving me an income which one 
 of my simple tastes and habits would never think 
 of spending, I cast about in my mind for the voca- 
 tion which would at once employ my leisure and 
 afford me an opportunity for helping my fellow- 
 men. 
 
 From my earliest youth, all tales of mystery 
 and so-called "detective" stories have interested 
 me more than any other form of light literature. 
 By this confession, I am aware that I lay myself 
 open to the charge of being a person of unculti- 
 vated taste, entirely lacking in nice discrimination. 
 In my own defence I might cite two of the most 
 
4 ON TRIAL 
 
 illustrious men of modern times: namely, Prince 
 Bismarck and Mr. Gladstone, both of whom are 
 said to have beguiled their leisure with the ro- 
 mances of Fortune de Boisgobey and Emile 
 Gaboriau. 
 
 Be that as it may, I admit that I find such tales 
 most absorbing. Even the accounts of real 
 crimes, so graphically set forth in our daily papers, 
 interest me more than almost any other form of 
 news. For years, I have made it a practice to 
 follow every criminal trial most closely; in espe- 
 cial those which have to do with murder. 
 
 The shelves of my library are loaded with 
 scrap-books containing accounts of all the most 
 celebrated murder cases of the last twenty-five 
 years. The ones which have never been cleared 
 up are naturally the most fascinating. It would 
 doubtless surprise my friends to know that I have 
 in every one of these cases sometimes only after 
 months of study been able to arrive at a solution 
 which I am convinced is the true one. Perhaps in 
 my old age, when time shall have removed the 
 actors from the scenes of these tragic dramas, I 
 shall offer these conclusions to the world. 
 
THE MURDER 5 
 
 It can readily be seen how this natural predis- 
 position on my part determined me in the choice 
 of a career. I decided to fit myself for the prac- 
 tice of law and to devote myself to defending 
 those unfortunates accused of crime who were 
 without means to regularly employ counsel for 
 themselves. 
 
 And now we come to the Robert Strickland case. 
 Most of my readers will probably recall the sen- 
 sation caused by the murder of Gerald Trask, 
 and the principal facts connected with that crime, 
 as they appeared in the papers. It will, there- 
 fore, only be necessary to give a brief summary 
 of the accounts that appeared in the New York 
 papers on the morning of June 25th last. 
 
 When my servant, an elderly Scotsman who 
 has been with me for a number of years, came to 
 call me at his accustomed hour of half after seven, 
 it did not need the arm full of papers he was 
 carrying to tell me that they contained news of 
 peculiar interest. One glance at his face would 
 have been sufficient. I may add, parenthetically, 
 that his interest in all matters criminal is second 
 only to my own, and that he follows each case 
 
6 ON TRIAL 
 
 with an interest which is as lively as it is intelli- 
 gent. 
 
 More than once, I am bound to admit, some 
 shrewd comment or observation on his part has 
 been of real assistance when my own brain was 
 temporarily befogged with pondering too long 
 over some knotty problem. I have made it a 
 practice upon numerous occasions to summon him 
 to my study after I have arrived at a tentative con- 
 clusion, and have stated my case to him as I might 
 put it before a jury. If he is not perfectly con- 
 vinced and he clearly understands that I rely 
 upon him to be absolutely frank I know that my 
 argument requires strengthening. 
 
 He has never in the slightest degree presumed 
 upon these departures from our ordinary relations, 
 appearing the morning following our most hotly 
 contested debates, with his accustomed air of re- 
 spectful assiduity. 
 
 Ordinarily, I read the Times while at my break- 
 fast. But McLean has his instructions to bring 
 a copy of each of the morning papers whenever 
 a new case is reported, as well as to look out for 
 the later additions. 
 
THE MURDER 7 
 
 "Something unusual, McLean, to judge from 
 your face," I said, sitting up in bed. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, sir. Mr. Gerald Trask, the 
 banker, was shot and killed last night in his own 
 library, and a friend of his, a Mr. Robert Strick- 
 land, was taken, you might almost say red-handed, 
 with a pistol in his hand." 
 
 It is needless to say that nothing more Was re- 
 quired to banish the last trace of drowsiness from 
 my brain. 
 
 Gerald Trask was known to me personally, al- 
 though our acquaintance was of the slightest: 
 Robert Strickland, I knew by reputation only. 
 But everything I had ever heard of him tended to 
 show that he was a man of unusual probity and 
 honesty. 
 
 I made haste with my toilet, nearly cutting my- 
 self while shaving a thing which has not hap- 
 pened to me above a half dozen times in my life ! 
 Over my breakfast, I ran hastily through the 
 papers. 
 
 Yes, it was in them all; the same extraordinary 
 story varied only in unimportant details. The 
 staring head-lines, one of them bristling with ex- 
 
8 ON TRIAL 
 
 clamation points, could be read on the front page 
 at arm's length. 
 
 TRASK THE BANKER MURDERED IN 
 HIS LIBRARY! 
 
 MURDERER STRUCK DOWN BY DEVOTED 
 SECRETARY ! 
 
 MRS. TRASK ALSO ATTACKED! HER ASSAILANT 
 ESCAPES! MOST DARING CRIME COM- 
 MITTED IN NEW YORK IN YEARS ! 
 ROBBERY THE PROBABLE MOTIVE ! 
 
 and so on, and so on, in the hysterical manner 
 which even our best newspapers are pleased some- 
 times to affect. 
 
 Having carefully read each account and turned 
 the papers over to McLean, who was doing his 
 best to conceal his eagerness to have his turn at 
 them ; I went at once to my study and sat down to 
 reduce to writing the plain narrative of the events 
 which had transpired at the home of Gerald Trask 
 the night before. At the end of about a quarter 
 of an hour, I found that I had been able to make 
 the following abstract of what appeared to be the 
 principal (unverified) facts: 
 
THE MURDER 9 
 
 Shortly after nine-thirty o'clock, Gerald Trask 
 had returned from Long Branch, New Jersey, to 
 find his wife and his secretary, a young man by the 
 name of Stanley Glover who lived in the house, 
 and appears to have been on terms approaching in- 
 timacy with both his employer and his wife (a 
 policy which both experience and observation have 
 taught me will lead to trouble nine times out of 
 ten, unless both parties possess unusual tact and 
 discretion), chatting pleasantly in the library. At 
 the end of ten or fifteen minutes, young Glover 
 had withdrawn to his own room, with the pur- 
 pose of checking over various tradesman's ac- 
 counts for Mrs. Trask, the family being about to 
 close the house preparatory to going away for the 
 summer in accordance with their usual cus- 
 tom. 
 
 While he was still in the room, however, two in- 
 cidents occurred which, in the light of subsequent 
 events, seem to be not without significance. He 
 had been obliged to await his employer's return 
 before getting the account books from the safe, 
 which was let into one of the walls of the room. 
 The safe was a new one, and Mrs. Trask had 
 
10 ON TRIAL 
 
 neglected to get the combination from her hus- 
 band. 
 
 On being asked for the combination, Trask had 
 searched vainly in all of his pockets for the card 
 on which he, himself, had written it only the day 
 before. Finally, he had come to the conclusion 
 that he must have, inadvertently, given it to his 
 friend, Robert Strickland, at whose apartment he 
 had stopped for a moment on his way from the 
 train. 
 
 He had, it seemed, invited Strickland to join a 
 fishing party at Long Branch for the following 
 Sunday, and had written the address of his house 
 on a card which he had taken from his pocket with- 
 out examining the other side. As none of the 
 cards still remaining in his card-case had the de- 
 sired combination written on it, it seemed only 
 logical to suppose that he had carelessly used that 
 particular one on which to write the address. 
 However, with an effort of memory, he was able 
 to recall the necessary succession of numbers, and 
 had opened the safe himself. 
 
 Furthermore, it appears that Strickland had 
 been in considerable financial difficulty for some 
 
THE MURDER 11 
 
 little time, through no immediate fault of his own. 
 Trask had accepted his note for ten thousand dol- 
 lars, which note had fallen due two days before, 
 that is to say, on the 22nd inst. 
 
 The mention of Strickland's name had recalled 
 to the careful secretary the fact that this note was 
 over-due. On his mentioning this circumstance, 
 Trask had taken ten one thousand dollar bills 
 from his pocket, laughingly explaining that 
 Strickland had paid the note that very evening in 
 this very unusual manner on the ground that it 
 had been so darned hard to get, that he wanted the 
 pleasure of paying it in cash, rather than by check. 
 (A most unbusiness-like and childish proceeding 
 for which, I may say, I cannot find any excuse.) 
 Before leaving the room, the secretary had placed 
 this money in the safe with the understanding that 
 he was to deposit it properly in the morning with- 
 out fail. 
 
 How long after his departure she and her hus- 
 band continued their conversation Mrs. Trask is 
 unable to say. (This seems reasonable, as she is 
 still in a very emotional and excited condition.) 
 At most, she thinks it could not have been longer 
 
12 ON TRIAL 
 
 than half an hour. They went to their respective 
 bedrooms, both of which appear to open off the 
 library. (I should like to see a plan of the 
 house.) She had hardly begun her toilet for the 
 night, when she fancied that she heard a slight 
 noise in the room she had just quitted. Suppos- 
 ing that it was her husband returning for a book 
 or a magazine, she opened the door to beg him not 
 to read late. (It seems that he had the bad habit 
 of reading in bed; a practice which cannot fail to 
 be injurious to the eyes.) 
 
 She had no sooner stepped into the room, than 
 she was seized by the throat by a man who seemed 
 to spring from behind the door. At the same mo- 
 ment her head was enveloped in a towel or cloth 
 of some sort, and she was forced to the floor. 
 (The cloth thrown over her head turns out to 
 have been an embroidered scarf, or table cloth, 
 which her assailant had snatched from the library 
 table, presumedly for the purpose of preventing 
 her from crying out.) She was only able to give 
 a muffled scream before her head struck heavily 
 against the edge of a leather divan that stood in 
 the room. 
 
THE MURDER 13 
 
 She was on the point of losing consciousness, 
 partly from the blow caused by the impact of her 
 head against the furniture, and partly from the 
 tight hold on her throat, when she became aware 
 that the room, up to that moment in complete 
 darkness, was suddenly flooded with light. From 
 what seemed to her a long way off, she heard her 
 husband's voice at the telephone. Whether he 
 had come into the room in response to a ring from 
 the telephone, she is unable to say. 
 
 The next instant three things occurred almost 
 simultaneously. There came the quick report of 
 a pistol shot (she does not pretend to have recog- 
 nised what it was at the time), the grip on her 
 throat was suddenly relaxed, and, as with a scream 
 she attempted to free her head from the scarf and 
 struggle to her feet, she heard her husband ex- 
 claim: "Strickland!" 
 
 She had just succeeded in getting the scarf 
 partly away from her face when the pistol rang 
 out again. She saw her husband reel and fall, 
 as Glover, armed with a heavy strck, rushed in and 
 felled the assassin with a blow on the arm, the 
 pistol falling from his hand as he went down. 
 
14 ON TRIAL 
 
 Young Glover seems to have acted with ad- 
 mirable presence of mind. He at once telephoned 
 for the nearest doctor, ordered the butler to stand 
 guard over the disabled Strickland, while he, him- 
 self, examined the contents of the safe, the door of 
 which stood open. 
 
 Everything was intact except the drawer in 
 which, a little earlier, he had placed the ten 
 one thousand dollar bills. They were missing. 
 Having despatched another of the men servants in 
 search of the police, he saw to it that, as far as 
 possible, the room was left in the exact condition 
 in which he had found it. Even the French win- 
 dows at the back of the room were left open, in- 
 dicating the probable course taken by the man 
 who had half strangled Mrs. Trask. 
 
 He thought of another thing. The card upon 
 which was written the numbers making the com- 
 bination of the safe, which Trask thought he must 
 have given to Strickland, might reasonably be sup- 
 posed to be still in his possession. He bent over 
 the man, still lying on the floor, groaning with 
 pain, and searched his pockets. The card was in 
 one of the side pockets of his coat. After the 
 
THE MURDER 15 
 
 arrival of the police, the safe was closed and 
 re-opened by means of the combination found on 
 this card. 
 
 The doctor, a physician by the name of Morgan, 
 found that Trask must have died instantly. The 
 second shot had entered the body just above the 
 left breast, and had penetrated the heart. The 
 first one had merely grazed the right shoulder. 
 Finding that it was too late to do anything for 
 Trask, Dr. Morgan turned his attention to Strick- 
 land whose arm was badly fractured by the blow 
 from Glover's heavy cane. He was in great pain. 
 
 A search of the house showed that nothing had 
 been disturbed in any way outside of the room in 
 which the tragedy had occurred. No examination 
 of the ground outside of the French windows was 
 attempted. (It would have been a waste of time 
 in any case, as two of the servants had dashed out 
 that way as soon as they learned that Mrs. Trask' s 
 assailant had escaped. Any clues that might have 
 otherwise been of value would have been hope- 
 lessly confused, where not entirely obliterated. 
 The secretary should, of course, have thought of 
 this and prevented all such futile running about. 
 
16 ON TRIAL 
 
 But he is young and, on the whole, conducted him- 
 self with a presence of mind not often found in a 
 man of his years.) 
 
 Having carefully gone over my summary, and 
 satisfied myself that I had left out nothing, how- 
 ever trifling, which might have any bearing on the 
 case it is hardly necessary to say that I discarded 
 all the theories both of the reporters and the de- 
 tectives which, to my mind, occupied a large 
 amount of space that might have been used to 
 much better purpose if they had printed the mul- 
 tiplication table, which would have been quite as 
 interesting and much more instructive I prepared 
 to go out for a long walk. It has always been my 
 experience that my mind works more clearly in 
 the open. 
 
 I had no business for the moment that was at 
 all pressing. While I had no reason to suppose 
 that I would ever have any official connection with 
 the Strickland case for Strickland must have 
 many friends who would back him at least to the 
 extent of engaging a lawyer it nevertheless in- 
 trigued my interest. 
 
 Certainly, on the surface, it presented no prob- 
 
THE MURDER 17 
 
 lem. It was as simple as two plus two equals 
 four, according to the sleuths of the press. A 
 man, entering a house for the purpose of robbery, 
 kills the owner who recognises him, upon being 
 surprised in the act. As for the other man who 
 at the same time had attacked the owner's wife? 
 Well, he was an accomplice. What else could 
 he be? All very pretty; but I took no stock in it 
 whatever. 
 
 Telling McLean that I might not be back until 
 dinner time a piece of information which he re- 
 ceived with an air of dazed respect, showing that, 
 for the moment, his mind was entirely occupied 
 with his papers I left the house bound for the 
 Park. On the way up, I would make it a point 
 to take a look at the late home of Gerald Trask, 
 which would only take me a little out of my way. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 I MEET WITH UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 
 
 I CANNOT say that my walk was productive of 
 any very wonderful inspiration. Not that I had 
 had any expectation that it would be. I had, so 
 far, too few facts to enable me to build up much 
 of a theory. I have always held with those who 
 declare that the only way to attack a problem of 
 the nature of the one that just now possessed me 
 was to approach it with a perfectly open mind, 
 entirely without prejudice. But I am, I hope, 
 sufficiently honest to confess that in this particu- 
 lar case I was unable to do so. I deferred debat- 
 ing the matter with myself, however, until I 
 should have had a look at the Trask house with 
 which, as I have said, I was not familiar. 
 
 As I had surmised, there was little to be seen 
 when I reached the street. The usual crowd of 
 persons inspired by morbid curiosity were before 
 me. A small force of police were occupied in 
 
 keeping the ever-increasing mob in motion. After 
 
 18 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 19 
 
 all, it was only natural. The papers had "played 
 up" the murder too well for any one with a serious 
 purpose in studying the scene of the crime to have 
 any chance, at least for the moment. 
 
 Already, although it lacked fully two hours till 
 noon, the newsboys were hawking extras purport- 
 ing to throw fresh light on the Trask murder, on 
 every street corner. I noticed that they seemed 
 to be doing a thriving business in the crowd around 
 the Trask house. How some of the ragged tatter- 
 demalions were able to afford the penny for the 
 purchase, was a mystery. 
 
 I would have been willing to wager a con- 
 siderable sum and I am not in the habit of bet- 
 ting, as a rule that the majority of the persons 
 before me had heard Gerald Trask' s name for the 
 first time in their lives within the last twelve 
 hours. And yet from the scraps of conversation 
 which I overheard during the short time I re- 
 mained in the neighbourhood, one would have 
 judged that many of them were on terms ap- 
 proaching intimacy, if not with him, with some 
 member of the family. Certainly few of them 
 looked as if they were drawn from the class which 
 
20 ON TRIAL 
 
 would have supposedly formed either the busi- 
 ness or social associates of the late banker. 
 Truly, human vanity manifests itself in curious 
 ways! 
 
 While moralising after this fashion, I took as 
 careful a look at the darkened house as the circum- 
 stances permitted. I confess to having experi- 
 enced a momentary longing to break through the 
 police guard and mount the steps to that door be- 
 hind which lay the possible solution of the mystery 
 which so greatly interested me. I would have, 
 just then, given a good deal to be left by myself 
 in that darkened room, the scene of the murder. 
 
 The house itself had no intrinsic interest from 
 an artistic or architectural point of view. Its 
 "note" was a certain solidity the sort of home 
 appropriate for a sound man of business who cared 
 nothing for display. It differed but little from 
 its neighbours. Owing to the fact that it stood at 
 the end of a long row of similar buildings, it had 
 the advantage of appearing a little larger because 
 it had more ground. At some time or another, the 
 banker had bought the corner lot which had been 
 utilised as a small flower garden. 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 21 
 
 It was through this enclosure, apparently, that 
 Mrs. Trask's assailant had made his escape. 
 Nothing could have been easier. Even as I 
 passed, I noticed that the low iron gate in the 
 fence would have presented no obstacle to a man 
 of ordinary activity. I felt quite certain that I 
 could have vaulted it myself. A broad walk of 
 heavy flag-stone bisected the little garden. Right 
 under a sort of bay-window or rather, a sort of 
 alcove whose three sides were composed of so- 
 called French windows, and which had apparently 
 been added after the house was built it took a 
 sharp turn towards the back of the house. A 
 man, stepping out of one of these windows had 
 nothing to do but run down the walk, come out 
 through, or over, the gate, and go on down the 
 street. A hedge, which grew back of the orna- 
 mental iron fence, would have screened him suffi- 
 ciently to make it an easy matter. 
 
 Satisfied that there was nothing more to be seen 
 at present, I proceeded on my way to the Park. 
 Once there, I selected one of those uncomfortable 
 benches whose backs curve at exactly the wrong 
 place with which the authorities have chosen to 
 
22 ON TRIAL 
 
 equip our pleasure ground, and gave myself up to 
 a fresh consideration of the few facts in the case 
 that were in my possession. 
 
 That Gerald Trask had been murdered by 
 Robert Strickland seemed to be beyond dispute. 
 He had been taken "red handed," to use McLean's 
 expression, with a pistol in his hand, standing over 
 the body of his victim. The remote possibility 
 that Trask had been shot by the other man, I dis- 
 missed for two reasons. In the first place, al- 
 though there was nothing in Mrs. Trask' s state- 
 ment to show that she had ever laid eyes on 
 Strickland before, the fact that she heard her hus- 
 band call out: "Strickland!" as she described, 
 showed that it was on him that his attention was 
 focussed. Granted, for the moment, that the 
 other man had done the shooting, and escaped with 
 his pistol as well as the ten thousand dollars, what 
 was Strickland doing with his pistol? If he had 
 drawn it to defend his friend, why had he not 
 fired at the murderer as he made his dash for free- 
 dom*? There were only two shots fired, and both 
 were accounted for by the doctor. Above all, 
 what was Strickland doing in his friend's house, 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 23 
 
 having entered by stealth, at that time of 
 night ^ 
 
 In the second place, I was by no means satis- 
 fied that there had ever been another man. 
 There was nothing in Mrs. Trask's account to 
 establish the fact of his presence. No one had 
 seen him. She had been seized by the throat on 
 entering the room. The scarf had been thrown 
 over her head at the same time. It seemed per- 
 fectly possible for a man of average strength to 
 hold a dazed and frightened woman by his left 
 hand while he fired his pistol with his right. 
 What was there to show that Strickland had not 
 acted alone 1 ? 
 
 But how about the ten thousand dollars which 
 was missing from the safe, I hear you ask. There 
 seemed to be no doubt that the secretary had 
 placed it there while his employer and his wife 
 were in the roorru It certainly was not there when 
 he examined the safe later. And when he had 
 searched Strickland's pocket for the incriminating 
 card, he had not found it. Had Strickland 
 hurled it back of some piece of furniture, or thrown 
 it under the divan, or otherwise ridden himself of 
 
24 ON TRIAL 
 
 it before Glover struck him down? That would 
 argue that he had anticipated the attack. 
 
 A man would hardly go to the length of enter- 
 ing the house of the man who had been his bene- 
 factor for the purpose of stealing the money which 
 he had paid him earlier in the evening, too late to 
 be deposited in the regular way in the bank, shoot 
 him down in cold blood, and then throw away the 
 booty which he had risked so much to get. Even 
 if he had escaped for the moment, and it never 
 occurred to any one to search the room for the 
 missing money, how could he ever hope, hunted as 
 a murderer, to be able to come back and recover 
 it*? The idea was absurd. But I had my own 
 theory about that missing money which I was for 
 the moment keeping in the back of my mind until 
 I should have something more tangible than I had 
 at present to go on. 
 
 While, as I have said, I had no acquaintance 
 with Robert Strickland, everything that I had ever 
 heard of him and I had heard a good deal at one 
 time and another was opposed to the theory that 
 he had entered the Trask house for the purpose of 
 robbing the safe. That he had come with some 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 25 
 
 sinister purpose could not be denied. Otherwise, 
 he would have come in the ordinary way to the 
 front door, no matter how late the hour, if his 
 business had been sufficiently urgent. But it must 
 also be remembered that he had already seen Trask 
 earlier in the evening, and that the hour could not 
 be considered extraordinarily late, for the whole 
 shocking affair had taken place before midnight. 
 Whatever his purpose, I was convinced and here 
 is where I threw the theory of approaching my 
 problem with an unprejudiced and open mind 
 overboard that it had nothing to do with the ten 
 thousand dollars. Another argument against the 
 presence of the other man in the room. It would 
 be stretching the long arm of coincidence pretty 
 far to suggest that by chance two men, unknown 
 to each other, had entered the same house the 
 same night, each with his own secret and unlaw^ 
 ful purpose. 
 
 Of course I was perfectly aware that my theo- 
 ries would be considered the fantastic vapourings 
 of an amateur by the professional detectives. 
 No doubt they had already built up the case on 
 the foundation that Strickland had come to rob 
 
26 ON TRIAL 
 
 the safe bringing his accomplice, a professional 
 safe-cracker, naturally, with him. The murder 
 that followed was an unpremeditated accident. 
 It had been no part of the original plan, and was 
 merely the desperate effort of the detected thief 
 to make good his escape. He had to kill the only 
 person who could have identified him. The whole 
 thing was as simple as A-B-C ! So it was, if one 
 could believe it. I couldn't. 
 
 Still, I had to acknowledge to myself that I 
 had as yet nothing to offer in substitution for what 
 I foresaw would be the popular and accepted ver- 
 sion of the crime and the motives behind it. 
 Nothing that I knew of Strickland was of the 
 least assistance whatever. Would my knowledge 
 of Trask be of greater help*? Let us see. 
 
 Gerald Trask I had known personally. He 
 happened to belong to my club, and it was there, 
 if I remember correctly, that I first met him. I 
 could not recall that I had ever had any conver- 
 sation of any length with him either there or 
 anywhere else. I am not much of a club man 
 at best. I am sometimes a whole month without 
 entering either of the clubs to which I belong. 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 27 
 
 Trask, who was what is vaguely described as a 
 man-about-town, and who I learn from the 
 papers, belonged to half a dozen other clubs, prob- 
 ably preferred any of the others to the one in 
 which we shared the honour of membership. In- 
 deed, I had once overheard him admit to a friend 
 that he considered it absurdly old fogy. Well, 
 I can only say that I think that most of the mem- 
 bers were well content that he should think so. 
 I know I was. 
 
 For there is no doubt that Gerald Trask was 
 not popular with men. Just why, it would per- 
 haps be difficult to say. He was superficially a 
 suave, polished man-of-the-world. There was no 
 criticism to be made of his manners. He was, 
 if anything, a shade too coldly polite. Upon oc- 
 casion he affected a sort of cordiality. But it 
 never rang true. He never could disguise a cer- 
 tain cynical hardness which one felt was his real 
 disposition. Behind his mask of good-fellowship, 
 there lurked something intrinsically repellent. 
 
 His reputation for honesty in business was of 
 the best. But his reputation outside of his busi- 
 ness left much to be desired. I cannot recall 
 
28 ON TRIAL 
 
 that I ever heard any definite charge made against 
 him, but he had an evil repute where women were 
 concerned. How it arose, I do not know, but it 
 certainly existed. Was it not possible that a 
 woman was at the bottom of the whole tragedy? 
 Some woman in whom both the men were inter- 
 ested? 
 
 Of his wife, I knew little. I never saw her 
 to my knowledge. She had the reputation of 
 caring a great deal for society. I have seen her 
 picture frequently in the papers. I believe that 
 she is considered handsome in a large, imposing, 
 cold way. They have, I think, one or two chil- 
 dren still at school. The only person I ever 
 heard speak of Mrs. Trask is a woman, an old 
 friend of my own, who also goes a great deal into 
 society. I happened to be dining at her house 
 a thing which I regularly do twice a year when 
 the woman I had taken in to dinner happened to 
 speak of Gerald Trask and asked me if I knew 
 him. 
 
 "I just know him," I said. "He happens to 
 belong to the same club I do. But we have 
 hardly more than a nodding acquaintance." 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 29 
 
 She smiled in a knowing fashion. "I under- 
 stand," she said. "I never met a man who con- 
 fessed to knowing him better than that." 
 
 "But I assure you " I began. 
 
 She didn't even give me a chance to complete 
 my sentence. "Ethel," she called down the table 
 to our hostess, "here's another man who only 
 knows Gerald Trask to bow to! Doesn't that 
 prove what I have always said?" 
 
 "It only proves," said Mrs. Williamson calmly, 
 "that he doesn't know Joan Trask. I have known 
 her longer than any one in town. I went to 
 school with her. I am far from defending him. 
 But I do say that Joan Trask is the explanation 
 for all the stories that are told about her hus- 
 band." 
 
 From which I inferred that if Gerald Trask 
 were not a man's man, his wife was not a woman's 
 woman. 
 
 Robert Strickland was also married, I had 
 heard. But I had an idea that he and his wife 
 had always lived very quietly, caring little for 
 society. I had been told that they had one child. 
 Whether it was a boy or a girl, I did not for the 
 
30 ON TRIAL 
 
 moment recall. His friends had, naturally, not 
 seen so much of him since he had met with his 
 financial reverses. It was said that he was plan- 
 ning to leave New York to try his fortunes some 
 place in the West. 
 
 These meagre facts, together with the ones I 
 have already recapitulated from the newspapers, 
 represented the sum total of my knowledge of 
 the principal characters in the drama which was 
 about to be unfolded, and in which I was to have 
 a much greater interest than I yet suspected. 
 
 Having discovered that it was far past my 
 regular hour for luncheon a fact which annoyed 
 me greatly, for I am a strong believer in regularity 
 in the general conduct of life I made my way 
 to a quiet hotel in the neighbourhood where I 
 knew that the cooking was plain and good and 
 the prices reasonable. The chief objection to 
 eating away from one's home now-a-days is that 
 you never know what you are eating nor what 
 you are going to be asked to pay. I make it a 
 rule to have all my meals at my own house with 
 rare exceptions. This, of course, was an excep- 
 tional occasion. 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 31 
 
 After having spent some little time over a lunch 
 that was quite satisfactory, all things being con- 
 sidered, I determined to dismiss the Trask murder 
 from my mind for the time being. Nothing was 
 to be gained by stewing over it any longer until 
 some fresh facts presented themselves. I had 
 some pottering work, the sort of thing that one 
 can do without using much thought, that I al- 
 ways keep on hand for just such occasions. I 
 would go home and paste up some articles in my 
 scrap-book. I made up my mind to have a cold 
 supper in place of my usual dinner. My forget- 
 fulness about my noon-day meal had upset my 
 routine for the day. 
 
 McLean being out when I returned home, I 
 wrote the necessary directions on the slate which 
 hangs in the back of the hall for that purpose. 
 I found it impossible to interest myself in my 
 scrap-book, so, firmly determined not to let my 
 mind return to the forbidden subject, I threw 
 myself on the sofa in my library with a new mys- 
 tery story which had just come in a package with 
 a number of others from my bookseller's. I fear 
 the worthy man has a small opinion of my liter- 
 
32 ON TRIAL 
 
 ary tastes. I have a standing order with him to 
 supply me with all the detective stories in French, 
 Italian, and English as fast as they appear. The 
 one I selected was of slight interest. In a few 
 moments I gave it up and, feeling excessively 
 drowsy, fell asleep. 
 
 It was over an hour later that McLean awoke 
 me to tell me that my supper was ready. When 
 I reached the dining-room, I found the evening 
 papers lying on the end of the table. A glance 
 at the headlines convinced me that there was 
 nothing new of any importance. Probably there 
 wouldn't be until after the inquest. 
 
 Supper over, I took the opportunity while 
 McLean was bringing me the cigars, to ask him 
 what he thought of the affair on the whole. I 
 could tell by his manner that he suspected me 
 of wishing to draw him out without letting him 
 know my own opinions. Consequently he was 
 more than usually cautious, which, in McLean, a 
 typical Scot, is saying a great deal. I saw that I 
 would have to give him a lead. 
 
 "What is your idea about the other man? 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 33 
 
 The accomplice, or whatever you choose to call 
 him; the one who got the money*?" 
 
 But McLean was not to be had so easily. He 
 hadn't seen it stated anywhere that any man got 
 the money. 
 
 "You certainly read that a sum of money had 
 disappeared from the safe?" 
 
 "Yes. I read that." 
 
 "Well? Or perhaps you don't believe the sec- 
 retary's story about putting the ten thousand dol- 
 lars in the safe with his own hands?" 
 
 "Yes. I believe he did what he said." 
 
 "Oh, then you think that it is still there, per- 
 haps. That in his excitement he overlooked it. 
 Is that your idea?" 
 
 "No, sir, I do not. I think that, for a young 
 man, he kept his head very cool indeed. I think 
 that if it was there when he was looking for it, 
 he would have found it." 
 
 "But if it wasn't there, who did get it? I 
 asked you if you thought that the man who half 
 strangled Mrs. Trask got it." 
 
 McLean's lip twitched slightly. 
 
34 ON TRIAL 
 
 "No, sir, I don't think he got it," he said dryly. 
 
 "And why not, pray 4 ?" I asked, in pretended 
 surprise. 
 
 "Because I'm not at all sure that he was ever 
 there. I've yet to hear of any one who really 
 saw him." 
 
 "But Mrs. Trask?" 
 
 "She didn't see him." 
 
 "Man alive! He half choked her!" 
 
 "She didn't see him," repeated McLean dog- 
 gedly. 
 
 "Oh! Then you think that it was Strickland 
 with whom she had the struggle?" 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "And that it was he who got the money?" 
 
 "I'm not saying that." 
 
 I sprang out of my chair with a movement of 
 impatience and began to pace up and down the 
 room. As a matter of fact I didn't want McLean 
 to see my face. I confess to not having the 
 self-control that my admirable domestic pos- 
 sesses ! 
 
 "Well, if there was no such man there as Mrs. 
 Trask seems to believe, and Strickland didn't get 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 35 
 
 the money, and it isn't still in the safe, then 
 there is only the secretary left, and he didn't put 
 it there in the first place after all." 
 
 "I think you're forgetting some one, sir." 
 
 At that moment I was fortunately walking 
 towards the other end of the room. By the time 
 I had turned, I was able to look completely puz- 
 zled. 
 
 "Who on earth can you mean?" 
 
 McLean gave me a look which suggested that 
 he was not in the least taken in. 
 
 "Mrs. Trask, sir." 
 
 "Mrs. Trask! You think she took the 
 money?" 
 
 "I do, sir." 
 
 "Robbed her own husband?" 
 
 "She wouldn't be the first woman who's done 
 it." McLean is revoltingly cynical, in the mat- 
 ter of women. 
 
 "Perhaps you think she killed him as well?" 
 
 He paid no attention to this question. 
 
 "But she didn't know the combination of the 
 safe." 
 
 "Neither did the secretary, sir." 
 
36 ON TRIAL 
 
 "The only two people who could have known 
 it were Trask, himself, and Strickland." 
 
 "Maybe Trask had the money, then. I haven't 
 heard that they searched his pockets." 
 
 "But they did search Strickland's. The secre- 
 tary couldn't have missed those bills when he was 
 going through Strickland's pockets looking for 
 that card." 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "But don't you remember that Mrs. Trask 
 didn't know the combination of the safe? It is 
 explicitly stated that it was a new one and that 
 she had neglected to get the combination from 
 her husband. That's why Glover had to wait 
 until Trask returned before he could get the books 
 he wanted out of the safe. And it was Trask, 
 himself, who opened it after his return. You 
 don't pretend to believe that any one not an ex- 
 perienced safe-opener could master a combination 
 consisting of a succession of numbers from seeing 
 another person use it once?" 
 
 "No, I don't think she could have." 
 
 "What do you think, then?" 
 
 "I think that even if it was true that she didn't 
 
UNEXPECTED SUPPORT 37 
 
 know it in the first place, she had plenty of time 
 to find it out while she was talking to her husband 
 after the secretary had gone upstairs. It looks 
 as if she had always known it before. She could 
 ask for it perfectly naturally while the subject 
 was fresh in her mind." 
 
 And I hadn't thought of that! 
 
 "She must have had some definite scheme for 
 accounting for the disappearance of the money 
 in the morning." 
 
 "Well, she didn't have to use it if she did." 
 
 I couldn't dispute that! 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE INQUEST 
 
 As I have said, the evening papers contained noth- 
 ing of any importance. The same might be said 
 of the papers on the following morning. I do 
 not mean that columns were not devoted to the 
 "Great Trask Murder Mystery." It was "fea- 
 tured" on all the front pages, and overflowed onto 
 many others to the exclusion of almost all other 
 news, it seemed. Fortunately, at the particular 
 time at which the murder had occurred there 
 seemed to be a dearth of news of importance. 
 
 I would not go so far as to say that newspaper 
 reporters are sufficiently hardened to pray for 
 murder stories, but I do think that they accept 
 them philosophically as they accept much else that 
 is disagreeable, and with a distinct feeling of 
 gratitude when they arrive in a season which is 
 as dull from a news point of view as the summer 
 often is. 
 
 I left the thorough reading of them to McLean, 
 
THE INQUEST 39 
 
 who devoured the smallest paragraph. I was 
 quite content to skim through them, knowing well 
 that if he came across anything really significant, 
 he would keep me informed. But I saw enough 
 of them to assure me that the marvellous inge- 
 nuity of my friends of the press showed no sign 
 of approaching exhaustion. 
 
 The most elaborate and ingenious solutions 
 were spun from the most tenuous of threads. 
 Facts that could not be explained away were ig- 
 nored. Everybody who had the most remote con- 
 nection with the case was interviewed. The chase 
 for the missing accomplice was in full cry. But 
 the only thing that was accomplished in that di- 
 rection was to throw suspicion for a moment on 
 a rich South American, who had carelessly ten- 
 dered a thousand dollar bill in payment for a 
 purchase in one of the largest shops. 
 
 Two things I noted with interest. No one 
 seemed to doubt the existence of the second man, 
 and if any one shared with McLean and me the 
 suspicion that Mrs. Trask might be able to ac- 
 count for the missing bills, it was carefully kept 
 out of print. There was one other thing that 
 
40 ON TRIAL 
 
 both puzzled and interested me. Every one con- 
 nected with the Trask family, relatives and serv- 
 ants alike, had been cross-examined. But of 
 Mrs. Strickland, the wife of the accused man, no 
 slightest mention had been made. As far as I 
 could ascertain, she had not even been to see her 
 husband since his detention. 
 
 It was quite natural to suppose that this terri- 
 ble blow had prostrated her. But, if so, was not 
 that an important bit of news? And what 
 woman as devoted to her husband as Mrs. Strick- 
 land was said to be would not have been able to 
 draw upon that marvellous nervous force which 
 even the weakest women possess sufficiently to en- 
 able her to take her place at his side in this 
 dreadful time"? I was convinced that there was 
 more in this singular reticence in regard to Mrs. 
 Strickland than met the eye. 
 
 The hour appointed for the inquest found me 
 early at the door of the court room. I had antici- 
 pated that the widespread interest in this case, 
 presenting as it did, such unusual features, would 
 draw a perfect throng of the same class of persons 
 as still haunted the scene of the crime. I may 
 
THE INQUEST 41 
 
 say that I was not disappointed. Fortunately, I 
 was sufficiently well known to obtain entrance 
 without trouble. 
 
 I had no sooner found a seat well up toward 
 the front of the room where I could both see and 
 hear everything, than I noticed McLean standing 
 at the far end, near one of the windows. Just 
 how he had managed to get in, I am not sure a 
 great number of people had been turned away 
 but I have a shrewd suspicion that he is nearly, 
 if not quite, as well known to the minor officials 
 as I am. He had asked if he might have a few 
 hours off. It would not have been McLean, if 
 he had mentioned what he purposed doing with 
 his leisure. But I was not at all surprised at 
 seeing him. 
 
 I am not going to give a detailed account of 
 the proceedings. Naturally, all the salient points 
 of the evidence that came out at the inquest, were 
 brought forth again at the trial. But there were 
 a number of things that would have struck any 
 intelligent layman, interested in the case, as im- 
 portant and interesting. 
 
 The figure that commanded the most attention 
 
42 ON TRIAL 
 
 was that of the widow of the murdered man. 
 She was dressed in the deepest mourning and her 
 face, except during the time she was on the stand, 
 was completely shrouded in a heavy veil. I was 
 struck by the fact that she was both like and un- 
 like the published portraits I had seen of her. 
 
 In so far as they showed her to be a large, im- 
 posing woman of a pronounced blond type, the 
 portraits were accurate. But what they utterly 
 failed to convey and what, just why I cannot 
 say, surprised me was that she possessed far 
 more animation than one usually expects from a 
 person of her rather bovine type of beauty. To 
 be sure, this animation might be described as 
 intermittent. She would proceed coldly and 
 evenly without any sign of emotion for some little 
 time; then her eyes and her whole face would 
 lighten with a flash that was not without a certain 
 venomous suggestion. 
 
 Curiously enough, these flashes I can think of 
 no better word to use put me in mind of noth- 
 ing so much as of the illumination that follows 
 the sudden turning on of an incandescent electric 
 light. Just as their subsidence which left her 
 
THE INQUEST 43 
 
 face wearing its habitual (I am convinced that 
 it was habitual ! ) look of guarded calm brought 
 to mind the switching off of the same light. I 
 began to be greatly interested in noting just what 
 questions, or just what things in her testimony 
 produced them. But of that, later. 
 
 I admit that the impression that Mrs. Trask 
 produced on me was not a favourable one. That 
 she was a woman of a certain force, was unques- 
 tionable. But that that force frequently took the 
 form of obstinacy, I was perfectly convinced. 
 
 Her whole manner, while on the stand, was not 
 that of a woman recently bereaved, and in so sud- 
 den and terrible a fashion. One gathered the im- 
 pression that her mind was more fully occupied 
 with thoughts of revenge than taken up with sor- 
 row over the loss she had sustained. 
 
 Indeed, her voice never faltered even while she 
 was bearing witness to the dreadful scene she had 
 gone through. Even in her account of the last 
 conversation that she was ever destined to hold 
 with her husband, her icy composure never de- 
 serted her, no note of tenderness ever crept into 
 her cold voice. I began to read new meanings 
 
44 ON TRIAL 
 
 into my friend Mrs. Williamson's remark about 
 her. Common report said that the Trasks had 
 not been happy in their married life. Every tone 
 of the widow of Gerald Trask was a confirmation 
 of this report. 
 
 The only other witness of importance for I 
 pass, for the present, over the doctor and one or 
 two others of less interest from the point of view 
 of their personalities was the young secretary, 
 Stanley Glover. 
 
 He came to the stand with a certain brisk smart- 
 ness, subdued by his consciousness of the serious- 
 ness of the occasion, and the important part he 
 was called upon to take in the proceedings. Like 
 most young people, particularly those inexperi- 
 enced in appearing in courts, he displayed a tend- 
 ency to be too voluble. An inquest allows of 
 greater latitude than a more formal trial. But 
 young Mr. Glover would have gone beyond 
 bounds even then, had he not constantly been 
 held in check. 
 
 However, his excessive willingness to tell all 
 that he knew and had heard, as well as the various 
 deductions which he, himself, drew from the cir- 
 
THE INQUEST 45 
 
 cumstances, coupled with what others had seen 
 and heard and related to him later, did not mili- 
 tate against the generally favourable impression 
 which he made, not only on me, but, as I could 
 plainly perceive, on the whole audience. 
 
 His appearance might have been described as 
 "dapper." Without being handsome, he was by 
 no means bad looking. He had that direct glance 
 which always makes a good impression ; implying, 
 as it does, the possession of a frank and open 
 nature. From his ready and self-possessed re- 
 plies, I judged that his was an alert and active 
 mind. No doubt, an admirable secretary for a 
 man of affairs. 
 
 I waited for nothing more after the secretary 
 had left the stand. Whatever testimony was to 
 follow would be more or less a matter of routine; 
 a confirmation of what I had already heard on 
 the part of the police and some of the servants 
 who had been despatched for them or for the 
 doctor. The result of the inquest was, of course, 
 a foregone conclusion. Robert Strickland would 
 be indicted for murder, and the popular verdict 
 would be that he was guilty of robbery as well. 
 
46 ON TRIAL 
 
 Of his guilt on the latter count, I have already 
 recorded my opinion. 
 
 Once home and in my study, I drew out the 
 abstract to which I have already referred, in order 
 to make some additions. I was pleased to find 
 that I had only one correction to make. The 
 newspapers had placed the hour of Gerald Trask's 
 return somewhat earlier than that testified to by 
 his wife and his secretary at the inquest. That 
 might easily be accounted for by the fact that in 
 their first agitation they had both fallen into a 
 slight inaccuracy which they were able to rectify 
 in their calmer moments. As to whether it was 
 of importance, I was not prepared to decide as 
 yet. 
 
 I give the substance of Mrs. Trask's evidence 
 merely. Not being a shorthand reporter, I make 
 no attempt to repeat it verbatim, or to cast it in 
 the form of questions and answers in which it 
 was, naturally, given at the inquest. 
 
 She had been dining out with friends, but had 
 left them at the conclusion of the dinner, reach- 
 ing home about half-past nine o'clock. (Trask, 
 therefore, could not have returned shortly after 
 
THE INQUEST 47 
 
 nine, as his wife and secretary had been convers- 
 ing some moments before his arrival.) As she 
 came in the front door, she heard the telephone 
 in the library ring. She went at once into the 
 library to answer it. 
 
 A voice a woman's voice (it was here that I 
 first noticed one of those strange flashes in her 
 face) asked if she were speaking to 182 River. 
 Mrs. Trask having answered in the affirmative, 
 the voice went on to ask for Mr. Trask. Having 
 said that he was not in, the witness asked the 
 name of the person who was calling, and what she 
 wanted to talk to Mr. Trask about. As a proof 
 that she felt within her rights in making this un- 
 usual request, she explained that she was Mr. 
 Trask 3 s wife. (If her manner at the time was 
 as forbidding as it was when she related the inci- 
 dent, I am not surprised that she got no satis- 
 faction.) In place of answering, the woman at 
 the other end of the line asked when Mr. Trask 
 was expected to return. Mrs. Trask did not 
 know. 
 
 She had just rung off, when young Glover came 
 in, having heard, as he thought, the telephone 
 
48 ON TRIAL 
 
 ring. He had been upstairs in his room, which 
 seems to have been above the library. The fact 
 that both rooms had their windows open explains 
 how he could have heard it. Mrs. Trask said 
 that she had answered the ring herself, and that 
 some woman was calling her husband. She de- 
 manded of Glover if he knew what woman would 
 be likely to call Mr. Trask at his house at that 
 hour of the evening. 
 
 Of course the secretary had no ideas on the 
 subject. (I'd trust him for that.) Mrs. Trask 
 had then asked if the secretary was expecting her 
 husband home that night. Yes; he was expected 
 on the 9.12 train, Glover had told her. He 
 would probably be back at any moment, as it was 
 just half-past nine. Mrs. Trask had permitted 
 herself to wonder what he was doing at Long 
 Branch at this particular time, considering that 
 the entire family were to move down the follow- 
 ing week and that they would be there all sum- 
 mer. Which reminded her that she wanted the 
 secretary to go over her tradesmen's accounts be- 
 fore they left. 
 
 Glover had volunteered to do it at once, and 
 
THE INQUEST 49 
 
 had gone over to the safe to get the books. Find- 
 ing it locked, he had asked Mrs. Trask if she 
 would give him the combination. She confessed 
 to having neglected to ask for it. The new safe 
 had only been in a short time. As Glover never 
 had occasion to open the safe when his employer 
 was away, he had never had the combination of 
 either the old one or the new one. (A very wise 
 and sensible precaution on his part.) 
 
 Mrs. Trask had just remarked that she must 
 remember to ask her husband for it, when the 
 door opened and Trask appeared. The witness 
 admitted that she and her husband had had a 
 few words on the subject of the woman who had 
 called up. (Again her face became luminous.) 
 She insisting that he must know who it was, and 
 he asserting just as positively that he hadn't the 
 least idea of whom it could have been. Probably 
 to create a diversion for one can readily imagine 
 that such discussions were embarrassing for the 
 secretary Glover had asked his employer to open 
 the safe that he might get the desired books. But 
 although Trask turned his pockets inside out, one 
 after another, in searching for the card upon which 
 
50 ON TRIAL 
 
 he had written the new combination, he could not 
 find it. 
 
 He grew quite irritated over the matter, receiv- 
 ing the various suggestions offered by his compan- 
 ions with rising ill-humour. Perhaps he had left 
 it in some other suit. He might have pulled 
 it out inadvertently with something else. He 
 might even have left it down at Long Branch. 
 He vetoed all these suggestions. He had reason 
 to know that he had had it in the inside pocket 
 of the coat he had on, for he had opened the safe 
 just before leaving to get his check book the morn- 
 ing before he left. 
 
 Finally, he remembered what he had done with 
 it. He had given it to his friend Strickland. 
 Upon Glover expressing his surprise, he explained 
 that he had just come from Strickland's flat. 
 That he had invited him to come down to Long 
 Branch for Sunday, and had written the address 
 on the card for him. He had never stopped to 
 look on the other side of the card. He was sorry, 
 but Glover would have to wait until the next day 
 for his books, unless, by chance, he was able to 
 get the combination from memory. 
 
THE INQUEST 51 
 
 After trying two or three combinations he was 
 able to hit upon the right one and threw open 
 the door of the safe with an invitation to Glover 
 to help himself. 
 
 Confessing that he was tired out from golfing 
 all day, he told the secretary that he should not 
 require him further that evening, but kindly in- 
 vited him to join the fishing party for Sunday 
 morning. They would go down Saturday night, 
 and Strickland was coming with them. 
 
 The repetition of Strickland's name, recalled 
 to Glover the matter of the note due two days 
 before. Trask explained that it had been paid. 
 Strickland had returned from Cleveland, Ohio, 
 only that same evening. From the train he had 
 telegraphed asking Trask to meet him at his house. 
 He had not only taken up the note, but he had 
 paid the amount in cash, that is, in ten one thou- 
 sand dollar bills. 
 
 Both Mrs. Trask and Glover had expressed 
 their wonder over a proceeding so very unbusi- 
 nesslike. But Trask, while admitting that their 
 criticism was a just one, had related how Strick- 
 land had said that "It had been so darned hard 
 
52 ON TRIAL 
 
 to get that he wanted the pleasure of handing 
 him the actual money." (I have commented 
 upon the childishness of this action before.) 
 
 There had followed a little discussion between 
 the two men, in which Mrs. Trask confessed that 
 she had taken little interest, and had not there- 
 fore followed it very closely, as to the new pros- 
 pect which Strickland's Western venture seemed 
 to hold out. They both appeared to be genu- 
 inely glad that his luck seemed about to change. 
 It had been particularly hard for him to bear his 
 late troubles with equanimity on account of his 
 devotion to his wife. The mention of Mrs. 
 Strickland had re-awaked Mrs. Trask's interest 
 in the conversation. (I would have been sur- 
 prised if it hadn't!) She had asked what Mrs. 
 Strickland was like; if she were a nice woman, 
 and if she were pretty. Her husband had de- 
 clared himself unable to answer any of these ques- 
 tions. As it happened, he had never met the lady. 
 He had directed Glover to put the money in the 
 safe, and to deposit it the first thing in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Glover had obeyed, and having been told that 
 
THE INQUEST 53 
 
 nothing more was required of him had locked the 
 safe and prepared to retire to his own room, prom- 
 ising Mrs. Trask that he would have the books 
 ready for her in the morning. Just as he was 
 going out, Trask called after him to ask him to 
 remind him to get the card with the combination 
 written on it back from Strickland as soon as he 
 saw him, remarking that it was a damned careless 
 piece of business on his part. 
 
 Mrs. Trask admitted with a reluctance, of the 
 genuineness of which I was by no means con- 
 vinced, that, after the secretary had taken himself 
 off, she had returned to the subject uppermost in 
 her mind: the woman at the telephone. Again, 
 she demanded to know who it was. Again he 
 had reiterated that he had no idea. They had 
 had a quarrel over the matter. Even if she had 
 been really reluctant to speak of the matter in the 
 first place, there was no doubt about the fact that 
 she described their quarrel with a certain zest. 
 She admitted that it had been a more serious quar- 
 rel than they had had for a very long time. She 
 even said that it had been thirteen years since 
 they had had so serious a difference. 
 
54 ON TRIAL 
 
 She had even threatened him with divorce, al- 
 though on what particular grounds she proposed 
 to apply for one, she did not say. And then a 
 curious thing came out which had no direct bear- 
 ing on the subject of their immediate quarrel. It 
 appears that for six years, that is during the life 
 of the elder Trask, his son's marriage had been 
 kept secret. 
 
 Mrs. Trask for six years, as she ex- 
 pressed it, had "hidden herself away." She ad- 
 mitted that she had alluded to that part of her 
 life in the progress of their recriminations. One 
 could see that with her it was an abiding source 
 of bitterness. (I must confess that I didn't won- 
 der at that.) In the end, they had kissed and 
 made up, and Trask once again declaring that he 
 was completely fagged out, they had separated 
 for the night. 
 
 Her account of the murder and of the things 
 that immediately preceded it, differed in no way 
 from what I had already read in the papers; ex- 
 cept that she added one thing, and a most impor- 
 tant thing. She had not only heard her hus- 
 band's voice at the telephone, but she had also 
 
THE INQUEST 55 
 
 distinctly caught the words: "Is that you^ 
 May?" 
 
 There was no doubt that this admission pro- 
 duced a distinct impression, not to say a sensa- 
 tion, on everybody present. Who was May? 
 Was she the same woman who had called up 
 earlier on that fatal evening*? Was Trask ex- 
 pecting a call from her, or did he only recognise 
 the voice? In either case, had he not lied to his 
 wife when he declared that he had no idea who 
 the woman, who had so urgently desired to speak 
 to him that she could not wait until morning to 
 call him up at his office, was? One had only 
 to look at his widow's face to know that she had 
 asked herself all these questions and had an- 
 swered them. 
 
 There was little more to her testimony except 
 to state that she, herself, saw that the safe was 
 opened and that the money which Glover had 
 placed there was missing. 
 
 Glover's testimony also closely followed the 
 lines of his published interview. But he, too, 
 added one detail which was interesting and served 
 only to make the case against Strickland more 
 
56 ON TRIAL 
 
 black, giving added support to the theory that 
 he had come to the house originally with the pur- 
 pose of robbery. With that fact established, 
 there would be no trouble in establishing the mo- 
 tive of the murder. 
 
 When the secretary finally found the card he 
 was searching for in Strickland's pocket, Strick- 
 land had snatched it from his hand, and had 
 partly torn this incriminating piece of evidence 
 before Glover succeeded in repossessing himself 
 of it. I had to admit that that looked very bad 
 indeed. I could see the effect that would have 
 on a jury. It certainly was a very damning piece 
 of evidence. It gave my own theory of the case 
 a severe jolt. Also, I had waited to hear if Mrs. 
 Trask had remembered to ask her husband for 
 the new combination as she had intended doing. 
 Still, I thought I knew the reason she had for not 
 mentioning it if she had. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 MRS. STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS 
 
 DOUBTLESS the reader, if any such there be, who 
 has been good enough to follow my halting nar- 
 rative thus far will not be surprised to learn that 
 by the end of the inquest my interest in the Trask 
 murder, or rather, to speak more accurately, my 
 interest in the case from the point of view of 
 Strickland, had reached the point where I had re- 
 solved to be present at the time when he should 
 be formally charged with the crime and indicted 
 and offer my services as assistant to whatever 
 counsel he should select. 
 
 I had little doubt that my offer would be ac- 
 cepted. I have said that I had the reputation for 
 being an eccentric on account of practising my 
 profession without the expectation of a fee. But 
 as I never in any sense entered into competition 
 with those that did so, I was confident that I had 
 long ago extracted, so to speak, the poison from 
 the barb of criticism. 
 
 I think that I may in all modesty say that it 
 
 57 
 
58 ON TRIAL 
 
 was generally admitted that what I may have 
 lacked in native ability was balanced by my will- 
 ingness to give my whole time and attention to 
 any case upon which I was engaged without spar- 
 ing myself. I don't think any one ever accused 
 me of a lack of industry. And after all, in the 
 practice of law, as in any other branch of human 
 endeavour, industry is a factor which counts. 
 
 Having gone over in my mind the list of crimi- 
 nal lawyers at the New York bar, all of whom, 
 except perhaps some of the younger men, I knew 
 and was known to personally, I could think of 
 no one who would be apt to decline the offer of 
 my personal services in a subordinate capacity. 
 The fact that Strickland was just beginning to 
 get once more upon his feet financially, would 
 surely not debar him from obtaining the best 
 legal assistance. A man who had, up to the time 
 of the present catastrophe, enjoyed the best of 
 reputations, could not fail to have friends who 
 would stand behind him in his hour of sore 
 need. 
 
 Judge of my astonishment, therefore, when I 
 discovered that he had engaged no counsel what- 
 
MRS STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS 59 
 
 ever. But before I come to that, let me give my 
 impressions of the man as I first saw him. 
 
 He sat at a small table withdrawn a few feet 
 from that occupied by the reporters. His shat- 
 tered arm, bandaged, and in a sling, rested on the 
 table before him. From time to time, he eased 
 it by placing his right hand under his elbow. He 
 must have been suffering intense physical pain. In 
 spite of the strong restraint that he was evidently 
 putting on himself, occasionally a groan escaped 
 him. But it would have been equally apparent 
 to the most careless observer that his physical 
 agony was nothing compared with the mental tor- 
 ture he was undergoing. The havoc which the 
 hours that had passed since the night of the mur- 
 der had wrought was amazing. One did not need 
 to have known him before as I had not to real- 
 ise that. 
 
 Before the shipwreck of all that gives a value 
 to life, he must have been a man of unusual 
 health and vigour. His well-knit, well-nourished 
 frame could belong only to a man of regular and 
 temperate habits. I guessed him to be in the 
 early forties, and I have no doubt that he had 
 
60 ON TRIAL 
 
 looked even younger. Now, he might have been 
 almost any age. He sat huddled in his chair, 
 leaning on the table. From time to time, he took 
 deep sobbing breaths which seemed to wrack his 
 whole frame. During the brief proceedings in- 
 volving the formality of his arraignment, he only 
 altered his position once, and only once did I see 
 him fully open his eyes ; that was when the officer 
 in charge of him nudged him to remind him that 
 he must stand up. 
 
 I have seen, in my time, many men bowed with 
 misery and despair. But I have never looked 
 upon a human being so completely crushed with 
 misery as Robert Strickland that day, and for 
 many days after. I sincerely hope I never may 
 again ! 
 
 When, on being reminded, he rose to his feet 
 to plead to the indictment, he did an extraordi- 
 nary thing. At the time I thought that he could 
 not possibly realise what he was doing. In a 
 broken voice he pleaded guilty, and declared him- 
 self ready to suffer the consequences. He de- 
 clared that he had engaged no one to defend him, 
 and that he didn't want to be defended. At first 
 
MRS STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS 61 
 
 glance, it seemed only reasonable to suppose that 
 the man had lost his reason, or, at least had de- 
 cided to sham insanity. 
 
 It is needless to say that justice does not per- 
 mit of any man being undefended, nor of his 
 pleading guilty. The plea of "not guilty" was 
 entered for him, and His Honour did me the 
 honour of appointing me counsel for his defence, 
 which is how I came to be finally connected with 
 the Strickland case in an official capacity. 
 
 I will never forget my first interview with my 
 unwilling client in his cell in the Tombs. It 
 was well that I was a seasoned lawyer, and well, 
 too, that I have an underlying strata of obstinacy 
 in my character almost I say "almost" advisedly 
 equalling Strickland's own. A younger man 
 would have thrown up the case in despair. A less 
 obstinate man would have abandoned it in dis- 
 gust. I did neither; although I confess that more 
 than once my patience and my temper were sorely 
 tried. 
 
 But in the midst of his own suffering, and in 
 the face of his unconquerable resolution to say no 
 word that would assist in his defence, he main- 
 
62 ON TRIAL 
 
 tained the courtesy of a well-bred man. He 
 never forgot a certain deference to me as an elder 
 man. He was invariably polite. He frequently 
 expressed himself as being grateful to me for prof- 
 fering my services. He spoke of the regret that 
 he felt for the trouble he was causing me. But, 
 nevertheless, he flatly refused to help me in any 
 way. He was guilty. He had no desire to es- 
 cape punishment. The day that he would be 
 called upon to expiate his crime could not come 
 too soon. He was positively childish in his pro- 
 testations that he couldn't see why he should have 
 to endure the formality of a trial. What for'? 
 He had pleaded guilty. He was guilty. Why 
 could they not sentence him to death without all 
 this red tape? No one who heard him could 
 doubt that he was sincere in his wish. 
 
 I could learn nothing from him that was of the 
 slightest aid. On all points pertaining to the 
 events of the night on which he had been taken 
 in the Trask house, he maintained an obstinate, 
 unbreakable silence. The effect of this extraordi- 
 nary conduct, while it did not alter my determi- 
 nation to defend him as best I might, was to 
 
MRS STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS 63 
 
 convince me that both McLean and myself had 
 been in error in one matter at least. There had 
 been another man present. Strickland must be 
 shielding some one. Who else could he be shield- 
 ing? And of what nature was the tie that bound 
 these two men together that one of them should 
 be willing to go to death and a disgraceful death 
 to shield the other? 
 
 Finding that threats, entreaties, and logic were 
 alike unavailing I had, of course, not neglected 
 to appeal to him on behalf of his wife and child; 
 and, while he showed himself more nearly vul- 
 nerable on being attacked on that side than on 
 any other I decided to leave him alone for the 
 time being. A few hours' reflection in the quiet 
 of my own house, and yes, I admit it the pros- 
 pect of a debate over the whole matter with 
 McLean, could not fail to inspire me with fresh 
 courage and perhaps a supply of fresh ideas. I 
 do not in the least mind confessing that I felt the 
 need of both. 
 
 I left my recalcitrant client lying on the cot in 
 his cell and departed in a more perturbed frame 
 of mind than I liked to think possible. I was 
 
64 ON TRIAL 
 
 able to glean only one faint bit of consolation 
 from the whole situation. McLean would be bit- 
 terly disappointed to find that he I did not say 
 we was wrong in regarding the so-called accom- 
 plice as a mythical personage. He must have 
 existed. There was no other way to explain 
 Strickland's attitude. And the accomplice once 
 admitted, what became of the theory that it was 
 Mrs. Trask who had robbed the safe? 
 
 It was palpably absurd to suppose that Strick- 
 land had brought the other man with him to help 
 him attack an unarmed man. Could it be that 
 the safe had contained anything else say com- 
 promising or incriminating letters that he had 
 wanted? I still refused to entertain the idea 
 that he was a common, vulgar thief, in the sense 
 that he had come for the money. 
 
 I determined to dismiss the whole matter from 
 my mind, at least until I reached home. In- 
 spired by the example of a young man who seemed 
 to be reading his paper with absorbed interest 
 while waiting on the subway platform for his 
 train, I also bought the same paper. A glance 
 over his shoulder told me that he was deeply en- 
 
MRS STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS 65 
 
 grossed in what I believe is called the "Sporting 
 Page." I devoted myself to the same page until 
 I arrived at my station. If it had been printed in 
 a foreign language, I would have understood just 
 about as much of it. As a complete rest to the 
 mind, I found it had many things to recommend 
 it. And yet I presume that there are people who 
 read it with understanding and satisfaction! 
 
 Once home, I went at once to my room to pre- 
 pare for dinner. I had planned to surprise Mc- 
 Lean with the news that I had been appointed 
 Strickland's counsel. But I found that he was 
 already acquainted with the fact which was in 
 all the evening papers. It certainly was not on 
 the "Sporting Page." To that I could swear! 
 
 I had had ample time to go carefully over my 
 unsatisfactory interview with my client before 
 McLean was at leisure to come to me in my study 
 as I had told him to do. Rather to my surprise 
 he accepted my altered view on the subject of the 
 accomplice. But he stubbornly refused to admit 
 that such an admission was tantamount to ex- 
 onerating Mrs. Trask from the charge of having 
 taken the money herself. He was honest enough 
 
66 ON TRIAL 
 
 to admit that for the moment he was completely 
 puzzled. 
 
 Nor could he fathom the reason why Strick- 
 land should go such lengths to screen the other 
 man. "There's only one person in the world who 
 can explain that," he said. 
 
 "The other man, I suppose," I jeered. 
 
 "Not at all; Mrs. Strickland." 
 
 For a long moment I stared at him. 
 
 "Get my hat and stick, will you"? I'll go at 
 once. Strickland's flat was somewhere in the fif- 
 ties, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Fifty-eighth Street. The addres's was in one 
 of the papers. I'll look up the number." 
 
 He left the room to return presently with the 
 address written on a card. 
 
 "I'm obliged to you," I said. And he knew 
 that I didn't mean for the address alone. 
 
 The house was an easy one to find. To judge 
 from its appearance it was an old one, but the 
 windows were all handsomely curtained, and it 
 suggested, somehow, that the rooms would all be 
 large and spacious. 
 
 "Could you tell me if Mrs. Robert Strickland 
 
MRS STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS 67 
 
 is home?" I asked of a respectable looking col- 
 oured boy who stood in the doorway. 
 
 For some reason or other, he seemed slightly 
 embarrassed. 
 
 "If you'll wait a minute, sir, I'll ask Bertha. 
 She was Mrs. Strickland's maid. She's down in 
 the jani tress' flat now." 
 
 I was puzzled by his manner. And why 
 "was"? If Bertha were no longer Mrs. Strick- 
 land's maid, what would she know about her 
 movements'? In a moment he returned with a 
 good-looking girl whom I judged to be a German. 
 
 "That's the gentleman that was asking," he 
 said by way of introduction, and politely with- 
 drew some distance down the hall, although I 
 could see that he was burning with curiosity as to 
 my errand. 
 
 "You wanted to see Mrs. Strickland?" en- 
 quired Bertha with a troubled air. 
 
 "Yes. Can you tell me if she is at home, and 
 if she can see me? It's very important." 
 
 "Would you give me your name, sir?" 
 
 "Certainly. I am Mr. Arbuckle ; Mr. Malcolm 
 Arbuckle." 
 
68 ON TRIAL 
 
 Bertha's face lightened in a most flattering 
 manner. 
 
 "Oh, sir! Then you're the gentleman who is 
 going to get the master out of his trouble !" she 
 said enthusiastically. Evidently all the world 
 knew of the new responsibility I had assumed 
 except those who confined themselves to the 
 "Sporting Page"! 
 
 "Yes, I am Mr. Strickland's lawyer." 
 
 "And did he send you over to see Mrs. Strick- 
 land"?" she asked, the troubled look returning. 
 
 I was beginning to be annoyed. 
 
 "No, he did not. But is that any reason for 
 her not seeing me 4 ? She can give me a great deal 
 of information that I will need in my defence of 
 Mr. Strickland." 
 
 To my surprise, the girl burst into tears. 
 
 "Oh, sir," she sobbed. "I only wish I could 
 tell you how to see her. She's gone !" 
 
 "Gone!" I echoed "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Gone. Left the house. She even left Miss 
 Doris without a word. The poor little thing 
 stayed alone with me here for three days, and 
 then I took her up to her aunt's." 
 
MRS STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS 69 
 
 "Doris? Is that Mr. Strickland's little girl?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." She had regained some of her com- 
 posure by now, and was drying her eyes on a large 
 handkerchief. 
 
 "But when did Mrs. Strickland leave, and 
 where is she now?" 
 
 "I wish I could tell you, sir. I mean I wish 
 I could tell you where she was. None of us 
 know. Her own sister doesn't know. No one 
 has seen her since that night." 
 
 "What night?" I asked in growing excitement. 
 
 "The night the night that Mr. Trask died." 
 
 I liked the way that the faithful creature re- 
 fused to use the word that was in everybody's 
 mouth, the word "murdered." Evidently she was 
 devoted to both her master and mistress. 
 
 "Bertha," I said, taking her kindly by the arm, 
 "this is most important. Just when did Mrs. 
 Strickland leave the house, and how? Did she 
 go alone?" 
 
 "She must have gone soon after Mr. Strickland 
 did, and I'm sure she went alone. There was no 
 one here for her to have gone with. I had gone 
 to bed, and I wouldn't have known anything 
 
70 ON TRIAL 
 
 about her going if it hadn't been that Miss Doris 
 was so frightened and came crying to my room. 
 The poor child had, of course, gone to bed long 
 before. But something had awakened and fright- 
 ened her. She told me that her mother had been 
 crying and saying terrible things. And that she 
 had been telephoning to some one, and that some- 
 thing she had heard over the telephone had made 
 her mother scream. And that she had taken her 
 in her arms and kissed her so hard that it hurt 
 her. And had said 'Good-bye,' and had gone run- 
 ning out of the door. And that her father wasn't 
 in his room so that he must have gone, too." 
 
 "Bertha," I asked, "do you happen to know 
 what Mrs. Strickland's name was*? I mean, do 
 you know what Mr. Strickland called her?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. He always called her 'May.' " 
 
 I drew a long breath, and waited a minute. 
 
 "And you say that you took Miss Doris up to 
 her aunt's? Can you give me the address, and 
 the aunt's name?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. She's a Mrs. Stanwood, and she's a 
 widow." 
 
MRS STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS 7* 
 
 I wrote the name down with the address. 
 
 "And now, Bertha, one thing more. How 
 could I reach you if I wanted to see you again to 
 ask you any more questions'? Or" seeing that 
 she looked troubled "if I should have any news 
 of Mrs. Strickland?' 
 
 "Oh, sir, do you think you will? Sometimes, 
 I'm afraid" here she looked as if she were about 
 to cry again "that no one will ever see her 
 again." 
 
 "Nonsense!" I said, with a confidence that I 
 was far from feeling. "But how can I let you 
 know if I do have some news?" 
 
 "There's no place better than here, sir. Of 
 course, I'll have to look out for another place. 
 The rent's paid on Mr. Strickland's flat until the 
 fifteenth of the month. But I just can't bear to 
 stay here nights. But I am here all day in case 
 she should come back. Oh, thank you, sir !" 
 
 I slipped something into the devoted creature's 
 hand. 
 
 "Then this address will find you until after the 
 fifteenth?" 
 
72 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Yes, sir, and even after that. The jamtress 
 will keep any letters that come for me." 
 
 "Very well. Good night." 
 
 "Good night, sir, and thank you." 
 
 I was surprised to find myself at my own door. 
 I had been so taken up with my thoughts on the 
 way home that I seemed to have covered the dis- 
 tance in no time. 
 
 I imparted my great news to McLean. 
 
 "McLean, it seems that Mrs. Strickland's 
 Christian name is May." 
 
 The information left him cold. And yet he 
 had heard that name at the inquest. 
 
 "And what did she have to say about the other 
 man? Have you found out the reason why 
 Strickland's keeping so dark about him?" 
 
 "She didn't say anything about him, for the 
 best of reasons. She has disappeared." 
 
 McLean made a sound that strongly resembled 
 a whistle. "Disappeared? When?" he asked. 
 
 "The night of the murder, of course. Good 
 night to you." And I started up the stairs to bed. 
 
 "And her name is May!" I heard him exclaim 
 
MRS STRICKLAND DISAPPEARS 73 
 
 softly to himself, as he made his way to his own 
 part of the house. 
 
 I felt convinced that he considered me ungrate- 
 ful. I had a guilty feeling that he was justified. 
 I needn't have said "of course" ! 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 
 
 WHILE I was dressing the next morning, I was 
 planning my visit to Mrs. Stanwood and specu- 
 lating as to how I was to set about making friends 
 with Doris. I am fond of children at least I 
 think I would be, if I were more accustomed to 
 them. But I admit that I always am terribly 
 embarrassed to know how one begins with them, 
 so to speak. I am handicapped by having prac- 
 tically no childish recollections of my own to 
 draw upon. I was, I realise now that it is too 
 late, a singularly solitary child myself. I never 
 had any playmates of my own. Still, the ice once 
 broken, I rather flatter myself that I have "a way" 
 with little people. I was great friends at one 
 time with the small son of one of my colleagues. 
 Bless me, how time flies ! Tom is grown up and 
 married, and has children of his own now. But 
 somehow I fancied that I would find it harder 
 to get to know a little girl. 
 
 By the time I was ready for breakfast, I had 
 
 74 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 75 
 
 decided on the first step. I must take the child 
 some little gift. Children always liked presents. 
 Probably girls liked them even more than boys. 
 The next question was what sort of thing to take. 
 I turned to McLean. 
 
 "McLean, do you do you know any chil- 
 dren?" 
 
 "Know any children?" repeated McLean stu- 
 pidly. 
 
 "That's what I asked." And as he still stood 
 looking at me, I added, with a touch of irrita- 
 tion, 
 
 " Good heavens, man ! There must be some 
 children in this neighbourhood !" 
 
 "There are," said McLean with emphasis, "and 
 too many of them. If I don't know them, I 
 promise you they know me. 9 ' 
 
 I recalled that McLean had complained at the 
 police station about some boys who had broken a 
 window in his basement while playing ball, and 
 decided to try another tack. 
 
 "Haven't you any nephews, or nieces, or small 
 cousins, or anything?" 
 
 "I have two nieces," he admitted grudgingly. 
 
76 ON TRIAL 
 
 I felt greatly cheered. "And how old are 
 they?' 
 
 "One of them is nearly fifty. She was my old- 
 est brother's child. There was twelve of us. I 
 was the tenth." 
 
 "And how old is the other one?" I asked with 
 diminishing hope. 
 
 "Two weeks, sir." 
 
 This, evidently, was a matter in which McLean 
 could be of no assistance. 
 
 Before starting for 84th Street, where Mrs. 
 Stanwood lived, I went down town to one of the 
 most reliable toy shops. No doubt some of the 
 clerks would be able to advise me. It was stupid 
 not to have thought of that before. I selected a 
 pleasant- faced man who looked old enough to be 
 sensible. 
 
 "I I am looking for a small present for a 
 child, a girl. I thought perhaps you could help 
 me in making a selection." 
 
 But his first question floored me. "Certainly, 
 sir. How old is she?' 
 
 "I don't exactly know. The ordinary age, I 
 should say." 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 77 
 
 His look suggested that I had said something 
 foolish. 
 
 "I mean to say that I haven't any idea. But 
 I don't think she can be over three or four." 
 
 Why I had decided on that age I would have 
 been rather put to it to explain. He assured me 
 that there were a number of things to choose from. 
 I finally selected a picture book, filled with pic- 
 tures of domestic animals and with what I took 
 to be explanatory notes in type so large that I 
 could read it at arm's length without my glasses. 
 To this I added, entirely on the advice of the 
 clerk, a large tin horn. I mildly suggested that I 
 thought the latter selection more appropriate for 
 a small boy. But he assured me that small girls 
 were even more fond of making noise than small 
 boys. I wanted to ask him how he knew. But 
 I didn't. 
 
 With these purchases, neatly done up in two 
 separate packages, I started upon my important 
 errand. The hall attendant having telephoned 
 up a garbled paraphrase of my name, I presently 
 found myself ushered into a pleasant drawing- 
 room, by a respectable-looking, elderly maid to 
 
78 ON TRIAL 
 
 whom I presented my card. It was a comfort to 
 know that she could not change that. A moment 
 later, Mrs. Stanwood was with me. 
 
 She had been a pretty woman once, I could see 
 that. I also decided that she was probably much 
 younger than she looked. She was evidently in 
 poor health, as she walked with the feeble step 
 of an old woman. Her eyes had that washed out 
 look of a woman who has wept too much. Just 
 now, however, I would have said that she was 
 suffering more from fright than grief. She held 
 out her hand to me without a word. 
 
 "Mrs. Stanwood " I began. 
 
 "Yes, I know. I saw it in the paper. You 
 are Mr. Strickland's lawyer." 
 
 "Then you know why I have come." 
 
 She sank into the nearest chair, and began to 
 lock and unlock her hands nervously. 
 
 "I can be of no help to you, none at all. I 
 would do anything I could if I thought it could 
 possibly help my Mr. Strickland. But there is 
 nothing I could say that would not make matters 
 worse. I suppose he has told you " 
 
 "He has told me nothing," I interrupted. 
 
<) White, New York. 
 
 "My daddy brought him to me from Cleveland the night 
 he came home" 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 79 
 
 "Not a word of any kind can I get out of him. 
 He insists that he is guilty and that is all there 
 
 is to it." 
 
 For a moment her face lost its look of deadly 
 apprehension. "That is like Robert, that is like 
 Robert!" she repeated. "Oh, I'm so glad. It is 
 like him to think of Doris. Not that the child's 
 life is not ruined as it is! I can tell you noth- 
 ing," she said again. 
 
 "But I wasn't expecting you to tell me any- 
 thing that would help me in my defence of Mr. 
 Strickland that is, not directly. I was only 
 hoping that through you I might be able to find 
 Mrs. Strickland." 
 
 For a moment she buried her face in her hands. 
 When she looked up, her face was still wet with 
 tears. 
 
 "I know nothing about her. I didn't even 
 know that she had disappeared until Bertha came 
 up here bringing Doris. Bertha thinks that she 
 is is dead. But I have still one hope, not much 
 of one, I admit. Still, if she had no money, it 
 would take a long time to get there," she said 
 more to herself than to me. 
 
8o ON TRIAL 
 
 "How do you know she had no money?" 
 
 "Because Bertha brought me her purse which 
 she found lying on the table. It was the one she 
 usually carried when she was shopping. It had 
 thirty dollars in it, and some loose change. She 
 never would have kept her money in two purses; 
 that is, no amount to speak of. She might have 
 had a little change in some other one. But she 
 left without ever thinking of the money, I am 
 sure." 
 
 "And you still think that she may have gone 
 somewhere where she is known?" 
 
 "If I didn't think so, I should go mad!" she 
 exclaimed, almost violently. Then, recovering 
 herself with a strong effort, she went on. "You 
 see I was only just beginning to recover from a 
 terrible illness, an illness of nearly a year. I 
 have only been out of bed a little over a month. 
 When I read this fearful thing in the paper, I 
 was completely prostrated. I was only half con- 
 scious for several days. And then Bertha came 
 with more terrible news." 
 
 "Are you willing to tell me where you think 
 Mrs. Strickland may have gone?" 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 81 
 
 She shook her head. "Not now. It wouldn't 
 do any good. I will only say that it is a place 
 in the country. Years ago, after May had had a 
 great shock, she was ill there for a long, long time. 
 I have a feeling that another shock, which would 
 remind her so of the first one, would have the 
 effect of sending her back there again. Indeed, 
 once before, when she was ill again, just before 
 Doris was born, she disappeared. It was there 
 we found her. But that time she had taken some 
 money with her. Now it is such a long way! 
 If only she has the strength to get there, it will 
 be all right. The people know her." 
 
 "Mrs. Stan wood, why are you keeping so much 
 back from me?" 
 
 "Because, you must believe me, it would only 
 make matters worse if I told you." 
 
 "Will you answer me this question: Do you 
 think that Robert Strickland went to Trask's 
 house to get that money?" 
 
 "Never!" Her face flushed with indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 "Then his motive for killing Gerald Trask had 
 nothing to do with that ten thousand dollars?" 
 
82 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Nothing whatever." 
 
 "Where is Doris? May I see her?" 
 
 She hesitated a moment. "I don't see what 
 possible good it can do," she said. "But there is 
 no reason you shouldn't. Of course, you under- 
 stand that she only knows that her father and 
 mother have gone away? She is a curious child, 
 far older than her years. She is more like her 
 father than her mother. She has her father's 
 taste for mathematics. If she had been a boy, I 
 am sure she would have been interested in engi- 
 neering as he is." 
 
 I thought with alarm of the picture book with 
 its large print, and of the horn lying on the floor 
 beside me. Mrs. Stanwood rose and touched the 
 electric button. 
 
 "Tell Miss Doris I would like to see her," she 
 said to the respectable-looking maid. 
 
 "One question before the child comes," I said. 
 "Did you read the account of the inquest?" 
 
 Again she clasped and unclasped her hands. 
 Her lips formed the word "No," although no 
 sound came from them. 
 
 "Then you didn't know that Mrs. Trask testi- 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 83 
 
 fied that the last thing she heard her husband say 
 before he recognised Mr. Strickland, was while he 
 was at the telephone, and that the words were: 
 'Is that you, May'?" 
 
 She gave a sort of stifled scream. For a mo- 
 ment I thought that she was going to faint. Her 
 face, pale as it was, grew paler, with a sort of 
 grey pallor. I sprang from my chair, and went 
 over toward her. But she waved me away. Her 
 will power was nothing short of astonishing. She 
 gave a long shuddering breath. "I told you I 
 had nothing to say." 
 
 But she had answered me, nevertheless. 
 
 A child's step came running down the hall. It 
 was Doris. When I saw her, I leaned down and 
 shoved my two parcels under the chair in which 
 I was sitting. It was covered with light coloured 
 material, as was all the upholstered furniture, giv- 
 ing the room a bright, summer-like air. I had 
 noticed that the chair in which I was sitting had 
 a deep ruffly sort of thing at the bottom. Why 
 I did such a foolish thing, I don't know. I was 
 weak enough to act on the impulse of the mo- 
 ment. The moment I laid eyes on her, I could 
 
84 ON TRIAL 
 
 have blushed when I thought of that wretched 
 tin horn. 
 
 Not that Doris was anything but a child, but, 
 as her aunt had said, she looked older than her 
 years. And besides, as I learned later, she was 
 nearly nine years old. And I had told the clerk 
 in the toy store that she couldn't be more than 
 four! She was uncommonly tall for her age. 
 Whether it was because she was not quite happy 
 in her strange surroundings and merely missed 
 her parents, or whether it was that she really un- 
 derstood far more than her aunt was disposed to 
 think, of the occurrences of the night when she 
 had last seen them, her face and manner had a 
 gravity and seriousness sad to see in so young a 
 child. 
 
 She had evidently been carefully brought up, 
 for, when her aunt said: "Doris, I want you to 
 go over and shake hands with Mr. Arbuckle. He 
 is a friend of your father's," she came over to me, 
 and making me the prettiest courtesy imaginable, 
 put her little hand in mine. Under one arm she 
 carried a quaint little doll, dressed like a little 
 German boy. 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 85 
 
 "Are you a friend of my daddy's?" she asked 
 eagerly. "Have you seen him since the night" 
 for a moment her lip quivered, and the tears 
 brimmed into her dark eyes "since the night he 
 and my mamma went away? And do you 
 know when he is coming to take me back 
 home?" 
 
 "You see, Mr. Arbuckle, she doesn't like to 
 stay with her aunt at all," said Mrs. Stan wood, 
 with an attempt to divert Doris' thoughts. 
 
 "Oh, no, Aunt Helen, I do like to stay with 
 you," said the child, running over to her aunt's 
 side. "Only," she added frankly, "I like to be 
 in my own home with my mamma and daddy 
 best. I love to come up and spend the day here, 
 as I often do. But I do want to go home again ! 
 Do you know when my daddy is coming for me?" 
 she repeated. 
 
 "I can't quite tell you that," I said. "But I 
 know he'll come as soon as he can. Your father 
 hurt his arm quite badly the other day. But I 
 am going to help him as much as I can. I came 
 to see you because maybe you can help me to 
 help him." 
 
86 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Oh, can I*?" she cried delightedly. And then 
 she added: "Are you a doctor 4 ?" 
 
 "No," I said, "I'm not a doctor. But I think 
 I can help him in another way. But there are 
 some things I want to ask you about. Will you 
 try to answer my questions like a good little 
 girl?' 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir." 
 
 Whether Mrs. Stanwood thought that I might 
 make more progress if I had the child alone to 
 myself, or whether she did not feel equal to re- 
 maining to hear the questions she feared I might 
 ask, I do not know. At all events she rose to 
 leave the room. 
 
 "If you will excuse me, I think I must go and 
 lie down again," she said. "But first I would like 
 to say just a word to you. Doris, will you run 
 out and ask Margaret to get my broth ready?" 
 
 The child ran away, and Mrs. Stanwood turned 
 to me. 
 
 "What do you expect to get by questioning 
 Doris?" she asked. 
 
 "I hardly know. But I am hoping that she 
 can tell me something of the occurrences at her 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 87 
 
 home the night Trask was shot. He went there, 
 you know, on his way home from the station." 
 
 "To see Robert," she said hastily. 
 
 "Certainly. To see him. Strickland had tel- 
 egraphed for him to come." 
 
 "It was the maddest thing to do. I don't un- 
 derstand it." 
 
 "Why, it seems to me to be perfectly simple." 
 
 "That is because you don't understand." 
 
 "I know. But I want to. Mrs. Stanwood, 
 don't you want to give Robert Strickland a chance 
 for his life?" 
 
 "What chance has he? Besides, I have al- 
 ready told you that anything that I might say 
 would do him far more harm than good." 
 
 "Are you sure of that?" 
 
 "Positive." 
 
 "Do you object to my questioning Doris?" 
 
 "No. Only I do not believe it can do any 
 possible good. Have you told her father that 
 you were coming?" 
 
 "No, I haven't. As a matter of fact, I hadn't 
 thought of the child until after I left him and 
 found that Mrs. Strickland was gone." 
 
88 ON TRIAL 
 
 "But you had told him that you were going 
 to see his wife?" 
 
 "No. But, remember, it is a matter of life 
 and death. Strickland is evidently trying to 
 shield some one the other man perhaps. As he 
 will not open his lips, some one else must." 
 
 "Then you place life above everything? 
 Above honour, even?" 
 
 "I cannot connect Strickland with anything 
 that is dishonourable." 
 
 "You are right," she said, holding out her 
 hand. "Whatever dishonour is back of all this 
 is not his. But I warn you that he will suffer 
 worse things than death. I do not understand it 
 all myself. There is much that seems to me in- 
 credible. If only May had not vanished as she 
 has. One word with her, and I would know what 
 I ought to do. And now I will send Doris to 
 you again. I no longer object to your asking her 
 what you will." 
 
 With that, she left me alone. 
 
 "Come, Doris," I said, as the child came slowly 
 back into the room, "won't you come over and sit 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 89 
 
 here by me on the sofa? Then we can have a 
 good long talk and be quite comfortable." 
 
 "What an odd looking dolly," I began. "You 
 seem to be very fond of him." 
 
 "I like him better than all my other dolls. 
 He's German, and his name is Hermann. My 
 daddy brought him to me from Cleveland the 
 night he came home. Do you know, Mr. Ar- 
 buckle, when we are going there*? You knew we 
 were all going there to live. My daddy has got 
 a house there. A nice white house with a garden 
 and lots of flowers, and, oh, yes, a dog!" 
 
 "Yes, I knew that you were going. But I 
 didn't know about the house. Who told you 
 about that?" 
 
 "Daddy did; the night he came home." 
 
 "That's what I want to hear about; all about 
 the night he came home. Did he come after your 
 bedtime?" 
 
 "He came after my regular bedtime. But 
 Mamma let me sit up later because I hadn't seen 
 my daddy for ever so long. And then I'd been 
 a good girl and passed all my examinations at 
 
90 ON TRIAL 
 
 school. I was promoted. I'm in the Grammar 
 school now." 
 
 "Good gracious, you don't say so! Why, you 
 must know lots about all sorts of things!" 
 
 "I'm afraid I don't," admitted Doris re- 
 luctantly. "You see, I'm so much better at 
 arithmetic than at anything else. I just can't 
 forget numbers, and I just can't remember lots of 
 other things which the teacher says are just as 
 important." 
 
 "So you remember numbers, do you? Do you 
 remember dates, too?" 
 
 "Yes, I remember dates. But I remember 
 other sorts of numbers better. My daddy says I 
 know all of his telephone numbers better than he 
 does. He never has to look in the book except 
 for new ones when I'm 'round." 
 
 "That must be a great help to him. But, now, 
 tell me about the night he came home. What 
 were you doing while you were waiting for him 
 to come from the station?" 
 
 "Oh, I did lots of things. I played 'round a 
 while; and then I practised some scales on the 
 piano until I remembered that Mamma was lying 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 91 
 
 down resting; and then I played a while with my 
 dolls; and, oh, yes" she gave a merry, childish 
 laugh "I had all of my dolls I've got lots of 
 them playing tea-party round the corner back 
 of the lounge. And when Mamma came in to 
 telephone to 4000 Jersey City, about the purse 
 that she had lost at Long Branch " 
 
 "A purse she had lost at Long Branch?" 
 
 I could have bitten my tongue out. Doris 
 turned to me with a sort of troubled look. 
 
 "Go on, dear child. I didn't mean to inter- 
 rupt you." 
 
 "I don't know whether I ought to tell you or 
 not. I promised Mamma that I wouldn't tell 
 Daddy for fear it might worry him. But then 
 he knew all about it afterwards when the man 
 from Long Branch brought it back." 
 
 "But what were you going to say about when 
 your mamma came in to telephone and you were 
 playing there with your dollies'?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" Again Doris was overcome with 
 mirth. "I frightened her. You see, she didn't 
 know I was there. And after she had finished 
 telephoning, and I came up to ask her if it was 
 
92 , ON TRIAL 
 
 her nice, soft, little black purse she had lost, she 
 screamed and said: 'Doris! Where did you 
 come from'?' And then she told me all about 
 lending her purse to a friend who hadn't any 
 money. My mamma's purse had lots of money. 
 She told the man at the telephone that it had 
 about forty dollars in it. And some addresses 
 written on cards that she didn't want to lose." 
 
 "And a friend of hers had lost it at Long ' 
 Branch?" 
 
 "Well, I don't just understand about that. 
 She told the man at the telephone that she had lost 
 it at Long Branch, and then she told me that it 
 was a friend who had lost it. And when I asked 
 her if it wasn't fibbing to tell the man that she 
 had lost it when it was her friend who had, she 
 said she'd explain that to me some other time. 
 And besides she had been shopping all that day 
 to get ready to go to Cleveland. That's why she 
 sent me up to spend the day here with Aunt 
 Helen. But later on, after I had gone to bed in 
 the next room I didn't want to go to bed. I 
 just knew I wouldn't go to sleep for the longest 
 
White. New York. 
 
 'I just knew I wouldn't go to sleep for the longest while" 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 93 
 
 while ! I was too excited at seeing Daddy again 
 I heard the man come that found the purse, and 
 then Mamma remembered that she had been to 
 Long Branch after all. Wasn't it funny she for- 
 got?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed. Did you hear the name of the 
 man who found the purse?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. But I don't remember it." 
 
 "Would you know it, if you heard it?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "It wasn't a Mr. Trask?" 
 
 "Oh, do you know Mr. Trask? He was nice 
 to Hermann. He asked him how he liked Amer- 
 ica. No, of course it wasn't Mr. Trask." 
 
 "He was nice to Hermann?" I was frankly 
 puzzled. 
 
 "Yes, to Hermann here." She held up the 
 German doll. 
 
 "Oh, I see." 
 
 "You see, Daddy had just brought Hermann 
 home to me, and while I was sitting on his lap 
 telling him all about what I had been doing while 
 he was gone, Mr. Trask came to see him. And 
 
94 ON TRIAL 
 
 when Daddy said to him: This is Doris, 5 he 
 asked me what Hermann's name was, and I told 
 him." 
 
 "Was your mamma there when Mr. Trask 
 came?" 
 
 "No, sir. She was helping Bertha get Daddy 
 some supper. He hadn't had any." 
 
 "Then she didn't see him at all?" 
 
 "Not till a long time after he came. They 
 talked ever so long. I guess it was about some 
 business. My mamma didn't come in until just 
 as Mr. Trask was going away." 
 
 "They weren't they weren't angry about any- 
 thing, were they?" 
 
 "Oh, my, no ! Mr. Trask gave Daddy a piece 
 of paper all folded up. And Daddy said he was 
 mighty glad to get it. And then he gave Mr. 
 Trask some money. And while they were talk- 
 ing, Daddy took the paper that Mr. Trask had 
 given him and tore the corner off it. Wasn't it 
 funny, when he said he was 'mighty glad to get 
 it' ? I guess he wasn't thinking of what he was 
 doing. I wanted to stop him, but I was afraid " 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 95 
 
 to interrupt them. And then Mr. Trask asked 
 him to come with him fishing on Sunday. And 
 he wrote the place where he lived on a card and 
 gave it to him. I didn't want him to go away 
 so soon again. So I was glad when Mamma said 
 she didn't want him to go, either." 
 
 " Did she say why she didn't want him to 
 go?" 
 
 "She said she didn't like the idea of his going 
 out in one of those boats." 
 
 "Oh. And what did Mr. Trask say to that*?" 
 
 "Oh, he'd gone away then. Mamma came in 
 just as he was going. And Daddy said : 'I want 
 you to meet Mr. Trask, May,' and he was sorry 
 Mr. Trask had to hurry away. He said he 
 wanted them to know each other." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "And then, they sent me to bed." 
 
 "But you say you didn't go to sleep at once. 
 You heard the man come who brought back 
 your mamma's purse? Did you hear anything 
 else?" 
 
 The child's whole expression changed. A look 
 
96 ON TRIAL 
 
 of fear came into her eyes. Her lips quivered. 
 
 "Oh, please, please don't ask me to tell any- 
 thing more. I can't! I can't! It frightens me 
 to remember. I cry most every night when I go 
 to bed, for I can't help thinking of it. But I try 
 not to let Aunt Helen hear me !" 
 
 I saw that I had better not press her further 
 for the present. Besides I had enough to go on. 
 I must try and find who had brought back the 
 missing purse. "All right, my dear, we won't 
 talk any more about it just now. Tell me, what 
 do you do all day, now that school is over 4 ? Have 
 you any playmates? Any other little girls you 
 know?" 
 
 "No, sir. But when Margaret isn't too busy, 
 Aunt Helen lets her go with me out to the Drive. 
 But that isn't very often, 'cause Margaret's too 
 busy," she explained mournfully. 
 
 "Well, I think we can fix that. I must be out 
 of town to-morrow. But suppose I come up the 
 following morning? I think your Aunt Helen 
 would let you go out with me. And you can show 
 me all the prettiest places on the Drive. I don't 
 know it at all." 
 
I BUY A GIFT FOR DORIS 97 
 
 "Don't know Riverside Drive? How funny !" 
 laughed Doris. 
 
 I was glad to see that I had been able to divert 
 her attention from the recollections that fright- 
 ened her. I felt like a brute, to torture a child as 
 I must later on. But the story of what had oc- 
 curred later that night, I must and would have. 
 If I put it on the ground that in telling me she 
 was going to help her beloved Daddy, which was 
 indeed the truth, it would make it easier for us 
 both. 
 
 Having asked Doris to present my compliments 
 to her aunt, and to say that I hoped to see her 
 again within a day or two, I took my departure, 
 my mind fully occupied with the missing purse. 
 Was it the same purse that Bertha had brought 
 to Mrs. Stanwood? Probably. But it had had 
 only thirty dollars in it, and, if Doris' accurate 
 memory for numbers could be relied upon, her 
 mother had said over the telephone that it con- 
 tained about forty. I rather pique myself upon 
 being a judge of character. I was sure, from see- 
 ing her the once, that Bertha was honest. How 
 stupid I was becoming! McLean would have 
 
9 8 ON TRIAL 
 
 done better! The reward, of course. Mrs. 
 Strickland must have given it to the man who 
 returned it. 
 
 I was half way home when I remembered those 
 wretched parcels under the chair! 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. BURKE 
 
 FATE decreed that I should find it impossible to 
 keep my promise to Doris. I found myself 
 obliged to postpone our outing for another day. 
 But by way of apology, I had, together with the 
 note explaining that some important matters con- 
 nected with the case would necessitate a change 
 of plan addressed to her aunt, forwarded to the 
 child a handsome female doll dressed in the most 
 approved German fashion, which I suggested 
 might be a companion for Hermann in his exile. 
 
 I had added an explanation of the mysterious 
 bundles which could be found under the chair in 
 the drawing-room, and had begged that their con- 
 tents might be disposed of in whatever manner 
 would most commend itself to Mrs. Stanwood. 
 McLean brought an agreeable note in reply. 
 Doris was delighted with her doll. She was look- 
 ing forward to initiating me into the unknown 
 beauties of Riverside Drive. And the janitor 
 
 99 
 
ioo ON TRIAL 
 
 happened to have an infant of a suitable age to 
 enjoy the toys I had originally designed for her 
 niece. So that was satisfactorily settled. 
 
 I had, of course, paid my client another visit. 
 If I had had any hope of finding him more com- 
 municative, I would have been doomed to dis- 
 appointment. I was glad to find that his arm 
 seemed to be giving him less pain. I did not men- 
 tion having seen Doris, or the matter of the purse. 
 As a leverage, I thought either piece of informa- 
 tion would have been of doubtful value. As a 
 matter of form, I urged him once more to give 
 me some help in building up his defence. His 
 only reply was to remind me that he did not 
 wish to be defended. 
 
 Relying on Doris' boasted accuracy in regard 
 to figures, I telephoned to the Jersey City number 
 to find, as I had surmised, that I was connected 
 with the Lost Articles Clerk. He knew nothing 
 of any purse lost by a Mrs. Robert Strickland. 
 He was disposed to cavil at my rather vague de- 
 scription of it, but accepted my explanation that 
 I was acting for a friend. No, nothing at all like 
 
MR. BURKE 101 
 
 it had been turned in. Did he recall Mrs. Strick- 
 land having telephoned in person the night of 
 June 24th*? No, he did not. He couldn't be 
 supposed to remember the names of all the people 
 that called him up. His manner implied that he 
 wouldn't have told me if he had. 
 
 The next step, naturally, was to go to Long 
 Branch. Judging that the station-master would 
 be the best person to address myself to, I went at 
 once in search of him. As it chanced to be his 
 dinner hour, I debated whether I should take a 
 stroll along the beach, or wait where I was until 
 his return. Chance decided me, and for once, the 
 Jade seemed to have wished to do me a good turn. 
 
 There was a large news-stand at the station, 
 presided over by a pleasant looking, honest-faced 
 Irishman who had arrived at that period of life 
 which the French tactfully allude to as "between 
 two ages." I took to him at once. Explaining 
 that I was waiting for the absent station agent, 
 I asked permission to glance over his stock in the 
 hope of finding something to assist me in passing 
 the time. Having confessed my weakness in the 
 
102 ON TRIAL 
 
 matter of detective stories and mystery tales, Mr. 
 Burke it was later on that he told me his name 
 admitted a like infirmity. 
 
 Having so swiftly and felicitously established 
 a common interest, conversation became easy. I 
 confessed that I followed the criminal branch of 
 the law professionally, which at once brought us 
 to the Trask murder, in which it turned out 
 again, I pay my respects to the goddess of Chance 
 that Mr. Burke had a peculiar, almost intimate 
 interest. 
 
 Having accepted his invitation to come inside 
 and take a chair, I soon found myself comfortably 
 seated in a corner with my back to the platform. 
 Mr. Burke seated himself opposite me, where he 
 could keep his sharp eye out for any potential 
 customer, although he admitted that at this par- 
 ticular hour there was no great likelihood of our 
 being interrupted. It is needless to remark that I 
 devoutly hoped that we might not be. I was be- 
 ginning to have a suspicion, from my host's im- 
 pressive manner, that I had stumbled upon the 
 very man I was looking for. 
 
 "Do you know, sir," said Mr. Burke leaning 
 
MR. BURKE 103 
 
 forward, his hands on his knees, that I was at the 
 Strickland house only a few hours before the mur- 
 der was committed?' I expressed unbounded as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 "And," continued Mr. Burke, "you could have 
 knocked me down with a feather when I read 
 about it in the papers. Him commit a murder! 
 Why, I'd as soon of thought of of myself doin' 
 it! If they'd have come down the next day and 
 arrested me for it, I wouldn't have been more sur- 
 prised, believe me. And yet it looks like he did 
 it if I ain't asking an improper question." 
 
 "Yes, it looks as if he did," I admitted. "In 
 fact he declares himself that he did." 
 
 "Yes, I see that, too," nodded Mr. Burke. 
 "Why," he broke out afresh, "a kinder, pleasanter- 
 spoken gentleman you wouldn't come across in 
 a day's journey! He was that agreeable to me, 
 and he was as patient with her. And she acted aw- 
 ful funny. First, she hadn't lost it. No, she 
 wouldn't hear of it. And there were her callin'- 
 cards inside, half a dozen of 'em. And I've heard 
 since that she had been telephonin' all over the 
 place about it, too. She had the very station 
 
104 ON TRIAL 
 
 master you're lookin' for on the line twice. It 
 beats me !" 
 
 "But you forget you haven't told me what it 
 was, or how you happened to call at the house." 
 
 "That's just like me!" laughed Mr. Burke. 
 "I never could tell a story right. I always begin 
 in the middle and work back to the beginnin'. 
 Besides, I'm extra excited over this. It's all so 
 damned queer. And him a murderer! Well, 
 I'll take a fresh start, and if there's anything you 
 don't understand because I'm leavin' it out, sing 
 out." 
 
 I promised to "sing out," and Mr. Burke began. 
 
 "It was this way. Things was pretty brisk 
 just before the 4.17 train pulled out. There was 
 a whole lot of people who happened to be goin' 
 up to the city by it that day." 
 
 "Just a moment: what day was it^ Do you 
 remember'?" 
 
 "Sure. June the 23rd. The day before the 
 murder. As I was sayin', there was an unusual 
 crowd of people goin' to town for some reason or 
 other, and I was pretty busy tendin' to 'em. 
 After the train had pulled out, I happened to 
 
MR. BURKE 105 
 
 come out from behind here to go over and say 
 something to one of the boys. And right there, 
 lyin' on the platform in plain sight, was one of 
 them little bags that the women folks carry. It 
 was close down to the tracks, as if some one had 
 dropped it just as they was gettin' into the train. 
 
 "Well, first thing I thought I'd hand it into the 
 office. And then the idea come to me, that I'd 
 look inside of it first. And if there was anything 
 valuable in it, why shouldn't yours truly get the 
 reward. I didn't see no reason for dividin' it. 
 I'd found it without any help. Was I right or 
 wrong ?" 
 
 "You were perfectly right," I assured him. 
 
 "Well, that's what I done, anyway. A local 
 happened to come along just then, and I was busy 
 again for a few minutes. When I got time to 
 look at the thing, I see that it had money in it 
 sure enough. I wasn't goin' to take any chances 
 emptying it out here to see what there was in it. 
 Time enough to do that after I shut up shop, when 
 there' d be nobody round to butt in. There's an 
 awful lot of rubberers round a railroad station. 
 You wouldn't believe it!" 
 
io6 ON TRIAL 
 
 I tried to look my regretful surprise. 
 
 "After I'd put the shutters up, I locked the 
 door. Then I emptied the thing on that box over 
 there. First, I counted the money. There was 
 thirty-eight dollars and seventy-five cents. Then 
 I took a look at the other things. There was the 
 usual amount of truck you would expect to find 
 in a woman's purse. A veil, half-a-dozen hair- 
 pins, some samples, and things like that. And 
 there was three or four cards with her name on 
 them. Mrs. Robert Strickland, and the address. 
 You know what it was, I don't just remember 
 now." 
 
 "Yes, I know." 
 
 "And there was a slip of paper with a Long 
 Branch address written on it. I should say that 
 it was in a man's handwritin'. Wait a bit, and 
 I'll tell you. Now I have it. It was 206 Hen- 
 derson Place. That's only about three blocks 
 from here." 
 
 "Well, as that was considerable nearer for me 
 than goin' to the New York address, I thought 
 I'd take a look at it on the way home. But the 
 house was all dark. I was a little later than 
 
MR. BURKE 107 
 
 usual. It didn't look as if any one was sittin' 
 up worry in'. So I made up my mind I'd go 
 round the next day. 
 
 "The next day at the noon hour, when there 
 wasn't much doin', I gave Tommy Jenkins ten 
 cents to watch the stand for half an hour, and I 
 hikes back to old 206. There was nobody there 
 but an old woman who must have thought I was 
 a porch climber or somethin' like that. She kept 
 the door on the chain, and talked to me through 
 the crack. She said she didn't know of any party 
 by the name of Strickland. She was sure they 
 didn't belong there. She wouldn't tell me who 
 did live there when there was any person in the 
 house. Said she had been alone there for ever 
 so long. Finally she did admit that there 
 had been a lady there the day before. But she 
 didn't know her name. So there was nothing 
 for me to do but go to the address on the 
 card." 
 
 "One moment. Have you happened to hear 
 who owned the house you went to^" 
 
 "Not yet. I haven't had time. But I'm goin' 
 to, just out of curiosity." 
 
io8 ON TRIAL 
 
 I felt pretty sure I could have told him the 
 name of the owner. But I didn't. 
 
 "So," continued Mr. Burke, "that same night 
 the night of the murder, mind you, I got off a 
 little earlier, spruced up a little bit, and went up 
 to the city myself. I found the house without 
 any trouble, and went in and read all the names 
 on the bells. Sure enough, the name of Strick- 
 land was there all right." 
 
 "One moment, Mr. Burke. Can you tell me 
 what time that was*?" 
 
 "There now !" said Mr. Burke in open admira- 
 tion. "I just knew you'd ask that. And if I 
 weren't a chump, I'd be able to tell you to the 
 minute. But I can't, that is, exactly. But it 
 couldn't have been long after half-past eight. I 
 know I was on my way back down town when I 
 looked at my watch to see if it was too late to go 
 to a picture show or something. I thought as 
 long as I had taken an evenin' off, I might as well 
 amuse myself. Besides, didn't I have eight good 
 bucks in my pocket that was all to the good?" 
 
 "Eight good what?" 
 
 "Bucks. Dollars. The reward, you know." 
 
MR. BURKE 109 
 
 "Oh! They gave you eight dollars reward?" 
 
 "He did. After he'd counted the money, which 
 was in three ten dollar bills, and the rest in twos 
 and ones, he just rolled up the smaller bills and 
 handed them to me. Oh, he's a fine man, all 
 right. And him gettin' ready maybe then to com- 
 mit a murder! But I'm gettin' ahead of my 
 story. 
 
 "Well, there was a nice lookin' servant girl 
 opened the door for me. And then I told her 
 what I wanted and asked if a party by the name 
 of Strickland was at home. 'Mr. or Mrs. Strick- 
 land?' she asks. I told her I guessed I wanted to 
 see Mrs. Strickland. She asked me as pretty as 
 you please to wait and she'd see. I heard a man's 
 voice ask: 'Who's Mr. Burke*?' And then a 
 woman's voice answered: 'Why, I don't know.' 
 Of course she didn't. How could she? Then 
 the pretty servant girl came back and asked me 
 to come in. 
 
 "I went into a big room all furnished up like 
 the rooms you see on the stage. There was a big, 
 fine-lookin' man there and as pretty a woman as 
 you'd see in a day's journey. The servant girl 
 
no ON TRIAL 
 
 looked pretty good to me till I saw the lady of 
 the house. After that " Mr. Burke made an 
 eloquent gesture. 
 
 "They both was as polite as could be an' asked 
 me to take a chair. But the woman had a sort 
 of scared look in her eyes. It seemed to be up to 
 me to make the first move. So I says : 'I found 
 a purse that belongs to you, mum, I think.' 
 Quick as a flash, the lady says: 'Robert dear, 
 your dinner will be ready now; you had better go 
 in before it gets cold.' 
 
 "But he didn't seem to be in any hurry. 'I can 
 wait a few minutes longer,' he says, easy and 
 pleasant like. Til only take a minute, mum,' I 
 says. 'I've come all the way from Long Branch.' 
 'Have you lost a purse, May*?' he asks. 'Why, 
 no; I don't think so,' says she. 'Are you sure, 
 mum*?' says I. She waited a minute before givin' 
 me an answer. 'Positive,' says she. And all the 
 time she looked as if she was beggin' me to go. I 
 couldn't understand it. 
 
 " 'Where did you find the purse, Mr. Burke?' 
 asks the man. I suppose he was Mr. Strickland. 
 
MR. BURKE ill 
 
 'On the platform of the railroad station at Long 
 Branch last night. I'm the news agent there, 7 I 
 told him. 'Long Branch? Then it can't be 
 yours, can it, May?' She throws her head back 
 sort of defiant like. 'Certainly not. Mr. Burke 
 has evidently made a mistake.' 
 
 "That made me sort of tired. Here am I tryin' 
 to be honest and return a purse that has nearly 
 forty dollars in it. The first place I go, they acts 
 as if they thought I was only makin' an excuse to 
 try to break in. The second, they acts as if they 
 had never heard of a lost purse. I guess they 
 could see that I was sort of gettin' hot. I turned 
 to him. 
 
 " That's funny,' I says. There's half a dozen 
 cards in it with Mrs. Strickland's name and ad- 
 dress on 'em.' 
 
 "He looked kind of queer at that. He turned 
 to her. But she was fussin' with some flowers on 
 the table as if she hadn't rightly heard what I said. 
 That seems strange,' he says. 'Perhaps one of 
 my friends might ' But he didn't let her finish. 
 'What kind of a purse is it, Mr. Burke?' But I 
 
112 ON TRIAL 
 
 was still sore. So I got up as if I was goin' to 
 go, and I says: 'Well, if you haven't lost one, 
 I'll be movin' along.' 
 
 "Then he turned to her very gentle. 'It's just 
 possible that you've made a mistake. Let Mrs. 
 Strickland look at it,' he says to me. But I 
 wasn't goin' to be caught like that. Td rather 
 have you describe it first,' I reminds him. 
 
 " 'Of course; you're perfectly right,' he laughed 
 at his own mistake. Then he says to her : 'You 
 haven't more than two or three purses, May; de- 
 scribe them to Mr. Burke.' But she just kept on 
 fussin' with them flowers. 'But I haven't lost a 
 purse.' If I'd been her husband, I'd a wanted 
 to shake her. Mebby he did. But he just 
 treated her as if she was a bad child. 'I know,' 
 he says. 'But it would only take a moment to 
 describe them.' 
 
 "She looked more scared than ever. But she 
 tossed her head and began to rattle off about the 
 purses so fast that I could hardly catch what she 
 said. 'Well, there's my mesh bag, with the oxi- 
 dised silver purse; there's that green leather bag 
 you gave me for my birthday ' I shook my 
 
MR. BURKE 113 
 
 head to both. 'I guess this one isn't yours, 5 I 
 said. And this time I really started for the door. 
 
 " 'No, I knew it wasn't,' she called after me. 
 And her voice sounded as glad as could be ! But 
 he made one more try. 'Wait a minute; you've 
 forgotten that Frenchy black velvet affair you 
 usually carry.' 'What kind 4 ?' says I, from the 
 door. 'Black velvet with a gold clasp.' I took 
 it from my pocket and held it up. 'This it?' I 
 asks, lookin' at him. 
 
 " 'Of course it is; isn't it, May?' She sort of 
 fell into a big arm chair. She didn't look at the 
 purse. She just looked at him. 'Yes, it looks 
 like it. I don't understand,' she says in a faint 
 voice. 
 
 " 'How much was in it, mum?' I asks her. 
 'About forty dollars, I think.' 'That's right,' I 
 says to him. Thirty-eight dollars and seventy- 
 five cents. Count it, if you don't mind, sir.' 
 
 "He took it over to the table and counted it. 
 'That's the amount that's here. You say you 
 found this at Long Branch, Mr. Burke?' 
 
 " 'Yes, sir,' I told him. 'On the platform, last 
 night. There was a slip of paper in it, with a 
 
ii4 ON TRIAL 
 
 Long Branch address written on it 206 Hender- 
 son Place. 5 " 
 
 "You told him that?" I was too excited to be 
 able to keep from interrupting him. He looked 
 at me in surprise. 
 
 "Sure. Why not? And then I says to him: 
 'I didn't get a chanct to go round there till last 
 evenin'. There wasn't nobody home but an old 
 woman who said she was the housekeeper. She 
 said that she didn't know any party by the name 
 of Strickland, but that there' d been a lady there 
 that day. So I thought I'd come to the address 
 on the card.' T see, I see,' says he. 'Well, we're 
 greatly obliged to you, Mr. Burke.' I started to 
 go, thinkin' that I'd had a good deal of trouble 
 for nothin', when he calls me back. 
 
 " 'Hold on, hold on,' he says, with his hearty 
 laugh. 'You're entitled to some compensation 
 for your trouble.' And he stuffs the bills into me 
 hand. I thanked him, and he insisted on showin' 
 me out of the door himself. But never a word of 
 thanks did she say. Women are queer, I know. 
 But I never saw one yet so sorry to get back forty 
 dollars as that one was !" 
 
O 
 
 PH 
 
MR. BURKE 115 
 
 Mr. Burke paused, evidently waiting for some 
 comment from me. Without saying anything, I 
 drew two photographs from my pocket. They 
 were portraits of Strickland and his wife, which, 
 I have neglected to say, Mrs. Stanwood had 
 loaned me. Silently, I held them out for Mr. 
 Burke's inspection. 
 
 "As like as two peas!" was his comment. But 
 he immediately qualified the remark by adding 
 that he couldn't have believed that Mrs. Strick- 
 land could ever have so happy an expression. 
 
 At that moment, a train pulled in, and Mr. 
 Burke immediately became busy. I was only 
 too thankful that we had not been interrupted 
 before. When the station was once more quiet, 
 I selected half-a-dozen books for myself. As 
 none of the authors were known to me, I permitted 
 myself to be guided in my choice by the friendly 
 proprietor. 
 
 We parted with mutual expressions of esteem, 
 which, I am convinced, were perfectly genuine on 
 both sides. I was sure that I could rely upon him 
 to give his remarkable testimony at the trial, 
 should I require him. That he would be a good 
 
ii6 ON TRIAL 
 
 witness, I was convinced. And I thought I could 
 also depend upon my own judgment sufficiently 
 to feel sure that his honest face would make a 
 favourable impression upon any jury. 
 
 I returned to town feeling well rewarded for 
 the trip. I had the foundation on which to build 
 a defence to the murder charge. But there still 
 remained the matter of the theft of the ten thou- 
 sand dollars. I could not blind myself to the 
 fact that that could not be explained away. Nor 
 would any jury be inclined to accept any other 
 motive for the murder, however strong it might be. 
 
 I knew that the entire police force of New York 
 was on the lookout for any clue to the missing 
 accomplice. I made up my mind to put the mat- 
 ter in the hands of a firm of private detectives 
 whom I knew to be excellent. Not that I built 
 any very high hopes upon the result of their en- 
 deavours. It was well nigh impossible to find a 
 man of whom one had not the slightest descrip- 
 tion. Still, it was worth trying. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 I SET ABOUT GETTING DORIS'S STORY 
 
 THE next day it rained in torrents. All thought 
 of going with my young friend for a walk in her 
 favourite pleasure ground had to be abandoned. 
 But, partly because I did not want to disappoint 
 the child again, and partly because I wanted to 
 question her on some points while the occurrences 
 were still fresh in her mind, I determined to go 
 up to Mrs. Stan wood's to see Doris in spite of 
 the storm. 
 
 Glancing up at the drawing-room windows be- 
 fore I crossed the street, I could see her gazing 
 disconsolately down at the wet pavement. A sud- 
 den realisation of her loneliness swept over me. 
 Poor little girl! That she had suddenly and in 
 an inexplicable manner lost both her parents was 
 all that she knew now. How much more terrible 
 would be her grief when she grew old enough to 
 realise in what manner that loss had come about. 
 
 I stood for several minutes on the kerb, hoping 
 117 
 
ii8 ON TRIAL 
 
 that her glance might turn in my direction. At 
 length my patience was rewarded. She saw and 
 recognised me. I waved my hand to her, and she 
 returned my salute, immediately disappearing 
 from her post. I hastened across to the building, 
 and, in a few moments found myself at Mrs. Stan- 
 wood's door. Doris was there, standing beside 
 the maid. She gave me one of her pretty little 
 courtesies, and held up her cheek to be kissed. An 
 act which touched me most deeply, and made me 
 feel, if possible, more remorseful than ever when I 
 thought of the pain I might be about to cause her. 
 
 "Come right in the drawing-room," she whis- 
 pered in my ear. "I didn't tell them you were 
 coming, 'cause I wanted it to be a surprise." 
 
 I was greatly puzzled. Who were they? I 
 looked to the maid for an explanation. But she 
 gave me no help, but stood looking down at Doris 
 with an indulgent and kindly smile. 
 
 "Mrs. Stan wood begs you to excuse her until 
 later," she said. "She hopes to see you before 
 you go." 
 
 Doris watched me with growing impatience 
 while I divested myself of my mackintosh and 
 
GETTING DORIS'S STORY 119 
 
 umbrella. When I was quite ready, she took my 
 hand and led me into the drawing-room. Seated 
 opposite each other at a diminutive table which 
 was all set out with toy dishes were Hermann and 
 the new doll that I had sent. My surprise was 
 so genuine, that Doris was delighted. She danced 
 up and down, clapping her hands. 
 
 "You didn't guess who it was, did you?" 
 
 "I certainly did not. Then you liked your 
 new dolly, did you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" she assured me. "And Hermann 
 likes her, too. Her name is Gretchen," she an- 
 nounced. 
 
 I bowed formally to Gretchen, and was casting 
 about in my mind as to just how I might best 
 begin the task in hand, when Doris solved the 
 problem for me by giving me a lead. 
 
 "Where did you go yesterday? Aunt Helen 
 said you were going away." 
 
 "I went down to Long Branch," I said 
 promptly. 
 
 "Oh, that's where Mr. Trask goes fishing, and 
 where my mamma's purse was lost. Have you 
 seen my mamma?" 
 
120 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Not yet," I said hastily. "But I saw your 
 daddy yesterday." 
 
 "Oh, did you! How is he? What did he 
 say 4 ? And when is he coming for me'?" 
 
 "I think his arm is better, I'm glad to say. He 
 didn't say anything, because," I hastened to add, 
 for she looked as if she were going to cry, "I 
 didn't tell him anything about seeing you. I 
 wanted that to be a surprise." 
 
 I could have blushed at myself! But what 
 could I do? Fortunately, Doris accepted my ex- 
 planation. 
 
 "But when is he coming for me?" 
 
 "How would you like me to take you to see him 
 first?" 
 
 She sprang to her feet. "Oh, goody, goody! 
 I'll tell Aunt Helen. And it won't take Margaret 
 a minute to get me ready!" 
 
 She was nearly out of the door before I could 
 stop her. Children are so precipitate ! 
 
 "Doris! Doris! Wait a moment!" I called. 
 
 She came back to my side reluctantly. 
 
 "I don't mean now, not to-day, my dear 
 child." 
 
GETTING DORIS'S STORY 121 
 
 Her face clouded with disappointment. 
 
 "To-morrow ?" 
 
 "No, not to-morrow. Sit down here beside me, 
 and listen a minute." 
 
 She obeyed, sitting close beside me and looking 
 up into my face. Now I was in for it ! 
 
 "Listen, Doris," I said, taking her hand in 
 mine. "It won't be for quite a while, probably 
 not for more than a week. But you must be 
 very patient. I told you, didn't I, that I was try- 
 ing to help your father and that I felt sure that 
 you could help him, too, if only you would be a 
 brave little girl?' 
 
 She nodded her head, without speaking. 
 
 "Well, the way you can help him is to tell me 
 some things that I want to know and that I am 
 sure you can tell me." 
 
 "I'll tell Daddy anything." 
 
 "Yes, but that won't do just now. You see, he 
 mustn't get excited on account of his hurt arm." 
 
 "How did he hurt his arm?" she asked quickly. 
 
 "A bad man hit his arm with a big stick." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "The night he came home." 
 
122 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Why didn't Daddy hurt him with that shiny 
 thing he carries in his bag?" 
 
 "What shiny thing, Doris 4 ?" 
 
 "He called it a a re-vol-ver," she said slowly, 
 trying to recall the unfamiliar word. 
 
 I was compelled to wipe my face with my hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 "Where did you ever see a revolver 4 ?" I asked 
 with a laugh which I tried to make light. 
 
 "Why, when he went to get Hermann out of 
 his bag, I saw a shiny thing lying in it. And 
 while Daddy was unwrapping Hermann, I picked 
 it up. When he saw me, he dropped Hermann 
 on the floor, and grabbed it out of my hand. He 
 told me I must never touch it. That I might hurt 
 myself. That it was a re-vol-ver, and that it was 
 to hurt bad people with." 
 
 "What did he do with it then?" 
 
 "I don't know. For then I saw Hermann on 
 the floor and I ran to pick him up." 
 
 "Well !" I said, "I think you have a good mem- 
 ory for other things beside numbers. You remem- 
 ber a big word like revolver, and you never saw 
 such a thing but once in your life." 
 
GETTING DORIS'S STORY 123 
 
 A curious look came into her eyes. Her face 
 flushed. She hung her head. Then she looked 
 up bravely. 
 
 "I did see it one more time," she said in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "And when was that?" 
 
 She buried her little face in the hollow of my 
 arm. 
 
 "Daddy had it in his hand when he was run- 
 ning out the door. Oh, please don't make me talk 
 about it, it frightens me so!" 
 
 I soothed her as best I could. , But I was 
 greatly puzzled. What could frighten a child in 
 seeing her father run out of the door even if he 
 were armed with a weapon the use of which she 
 couldn't possibly understand? Could it be that 
 Strickland had threatened his wife first? But I 
 instantly dismissed that idea from my mind. No, 
 Doris had something else in her mind. But she 
 had gone to bed long before. Even if she had 
 been lying awake all that time, it was hard to see 
 what could have frightened her so much. Strick- 
 land and his wife must have had a terrible scene. 
 Evidently the child had been so badly frightened 
 
124 ON TRIAL 
 
 at what she had heard that she had come running 
 out of the bedroom. It was my unpleasant duty 
 to drag the whole story from her unwilling lips. 
 
 "Who do you suppose I saw when I was down 
 at Long Branch 4 ?" I asked, more to gain time than 
 for anything else. 
 
 "I don't know," she said languidly, raising her 
 head. But I saw that she welcomed the change 
 of subject. 
 
 "Mr. Burke." 
 
 "Mr. Burke?" 
 
 "Yes. He is the man who brought your moth- 
 er's purse back to her." 
 
 "He must be a nice man." 
 
 "He is. But how do you know? You didn't 
 see him?" 
 
 "No, sir. But when I heard Daddy going out 
 to the door with him, I ran out to ask Mamma if 
 she had got her purse back, and I heard Daddy 
 and the man talking in the hall, and I could tell 
 by the way Daddy talked that he thought he 
 was nice." 
 
 "And what did your mother say?" 
 
GETTING DORIS'S STORY 125 
 
 "Oh, nothing. She said she had found it, and 
 that I must go back to bed like a good girl. And 
 when I told her I couldn't go to sleep, she said 
 I must go to sleep. But I didn't for ever so 
 long." 
 
 "And did you come out again?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." The look of fear came back into 
 her face. "Must I tell that part? Oh, please 
 don't make me." 
 
 "I fear you must, my dear. Remember, every- 
 thing you tell me is going to help your father." 
 
 She sought my hand again. "When when I 
 came out next time, was when Daddy was run- 
 ning out the door. And Mamma " Her voice 
 broke. She had to wait a minute before going 
 on. "And Mamma was lying on the sofa, crying. 
 And I ran to her and said: 'Mamma, Mamma! 
 What's the matter?'* And then I began to cry, 
 too." 
 
 She was crying now. I could only pat her lit- 
 tle hand. I would have given anything I pos- 
 sessed at that moment if I could have stopped 
 there. 
 
126 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Go on, Doris. Remember that you're help- 
 ing. I know it's hard, dear child !" 
 
 "She wouldn't say anything to me. She acted 
 as if she didn't know I was there. And then she 
 pushed me away and ran over to the telephone. 
 And she said: 'He's gone! He's gone! If he 
 finds him, he'll kill him ! His whole life will be 
 ruined !' And then she took the telephone in her 
 hand and called loud into it. 'Hello! Hello! 
 Give me 182 River.' 
 
 "And then she saw me. And and she took 
 me in her arms. And she called me her darling, 
 and her baby, and her little girl. And then she 
 called into the telephone again, and she asked if 
 Mr. Trask was there. But he wasn't." 
 
 "How did you know that?" 
 
 "Because she said she'd call again." 
 
 "What did she do then?" 
 
 "She cried, and walked up and down the room. 
 And I cried, too. And I was so frightened ! And 
 I'm frightened now." 
 
 Again the poor child hid her face. But she was 
 a brave little thing ! For after a minute she went 
 on again without any urging from me. 
 
GETTING DORIS'S STORY 127 
 
 "And Mamma's hair came down, and she didn't 
 notice it. And then she stopped a minute and 
 told me to go to Bertha's room and see if she was 
 in bed. And I wasn't to wake her if she was 
 asleep. I was just to open the door as quiet as 
 I could and look in. It took me a long time 
 'cause the door creaks so. But I saw Bertha in 
 bed and asleep, and I didn't wake her. And I 
 came back and told Mamma. She had fixed her 
 hair up, but not as nice as she always does. And 
 her hat was on the table beside the telephone. 
 
 "And I asked her where my daddy was, and 
 why he didn't come back. And she didn't tell 
 me. And then I asked her if she was going out, 
 too. And she didn't answer at all. She was 
 crying again, but not so loud. And then she ran 
 again over to the telephone and told them she 
 wanted 182 River again. And she called awful 
 loud: 'Is that you, Gerald Trask^' And I ran 
 over and held onto her dress. And then " The 
 poor child actually wrung her hands. "And then 
 I heard the telephone give a funny little noise." 
 
 "A noised What sort of a noise?" 
 
 "It sort of went 'Bang' ! Like a firecracker." 
 
128 ON TRIAL 
 
 "And did your mamma hear it, too?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. For she screamed out loud, and 
 said : 'My God ! He's killed him !' And I was 
 frightened worse than ever. And I begged her to 
 take me in her arms because I was frightened. 
 And she did take me in her arms, and she cried 
 some more and said 'Good-bye.' And then she 
 put me down on the sofa, and ran over to the 
 table and put on her hat. And then," sobbed 
 poor Doris, "she went away." 
 
 I took the poor child on my lap, and let her 
 cry her heart out with her head on my shoulder. 
 It only goes to show how curiously the human 
 mind will work at times when I admit that, in the 
 midst of my genuine sympathy for the poor tor- 
 tured child, the thought of McLean's face if he 
 could see me, flashed into my mind. 
 
 After a short time, she began to cry less vio- 
 lently. The force of her grief seemed to be about 
 spent. I looked up to see Mrs. Stanwood stand- 
 ing in the doorway. If anything she looked more 
 ill than when I had seen her before. Her face 
 wore a smile that was tinged with bitterness. She 
 
GETTING DORIS'S STORY 129 
 
 shook her head silently as she pointed to the child 
 in my arms. 
 
 "And do you mean to say that you really be- 
 lieve that all this can do any possible good 4 ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 I was stung by the injustice of her words. 
 
 "You cannot believe that I derive much pleas- 
 ure from it," I retorted. "Surely I do not look to 
 be the sort of person who would find wanton 
 pleasure in this sort of thing!" 
 
 "Doris dear," she said gently, ignoring my 
 words, "hadn't you better go out and let Margaret 
 get you ready for luncheon*? You will feel bet- 
 ter after she has bathed your eyes." 
 
 Doris obediently slid down from my lap and 
 went slowly towards the door. On the threshold 
 she paused to look back at me. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mr. Arbuckle," she said. "And 
 you'll tell my daddy that I tried to help, although 
 it made me cry?" 
 
 "Indeed, I will. I'll tell him what a brave 
 little girl you are!" I assured her as well as I 
 could for the lump in my throat. 
 
130 ON TRIAL 
 
 After she had disappeared, Mrs. Stan wood re- 
 peated her question in a slightly modified form. 
 
 "But what good can it do? Can what you 
 have drawn from Doris help Robert Strickland 
 in the slightest degree? I do not see how it can." 
 
 "It is only a beginning," I admitted. "But, 
 remember, up to now I have been like a man 
 groping in the dark. But surely you realise that 
 what I have already learned will be a foundation 
 for building up a defence? There are many miss- 
 ing links as yet. Very well; I must find them. 
 You must acknowledge that I am heavily handi- 
 capped until I can find some trace of Mrs. Strick- 
 land." 
 
 "You will never find her." For a moment her 
 face lost its bitter look. The tears brimmed over 
 her faded eyes. "I am convinced now that she 
 is no longer living. Small wonder if she should 
 have made way with herself. After all, there is 
 a limit to what women can endure. Poor May! 
 She has been called upon to bear more than her 
 share!" 
 
 "Then you could supply at least some of the 
 missing links?" I said boldly. 
 
GETTING DORIS'S STORY 131 
 
 "Yes; I could supply many of them." 
 
 "And you refuse to do so, when a man's life 
 may depend upon the very thing you are holding 
 back?" 
 
 "I have already told you that anything I might 
 say would not help him." 
 
 "Let me ask you this: Have you any knowl- 
 edge of the events that occurred on the night of 
 June 24th that might reasonably be supposed to 
 have led up to the shooting 1 ?" 
 
 "None whatever. I will go further and say that 
 as far as the events of that night are concerned, 
 I am as much in the dark as you are. From the 
 little that Doris has told me for I have not ques- 
 tioned her as you have and from what I have 
 learned from the papers for, since you were here, 
 I have read every word of the testimony that was 
 given at the inquest I can only suppose that the 
 unbelievable, the incredible has happened. Even 
 now, I tell myself that it cannot be true. That 
 it is all a dreadful nightmare from which I must 
 presently awake ! I can no more account for the 
 friendship that is said to have existed between my 
 brother-in-law and that man Gerald Trask than 
 
132 ON TRIAL 
 
 I can account for the presence of evil in the world. 
 How May could have permitted such a relation 
 to begin, passes my comprehension." 
 
 "Then you knew Gerald Trask?" 
 
 "Thank God, I never saw him in my life ! But 
 I knew enough of him without ever having had 
 to see him. Let me tell you this, and I can speak 
 as one having authority. Killing was too good 
 for a man like that. He should have been tor- 
 tured as well. And even then, he could not have 
 suffered enough to atone for all the agony he has 
 caused others." 
 
 There was no mistaking the bitter sincerity of 
 her words. And I was also convinced that she 
 knew as little of the events of the night of June 
 24th as I did. The knowledge that she possessed 
 and which she could not be made to see might be 
 of the highest importance to me as Robert Strick- 
 land's counsel had to do with some event or events 
 antedating the night when Trask was shot. I 
 rose to take my leave. 
 
 "I have only one more thing to ask," I said. 
 "If, later on, I could convince you that the knowl- 
 edge I suspect you of having would be the only 
 
GETTING DORIS'S STORY 133 
 
 thing that could save the life of Robert Strickland, 
 would you come forward ?" 
 
 She hesitated for a moment. 
 
 "Yes; I would come forward. Believe me, it 
 is not that I am trying to spare myself, or even 
 that I am trying to shield others. It is only that 
 I am sure that it would all be useless. And," 
 she added, "I warn you that I am very hard to 
 convince/' 
 
 "I promise that I will only call upon you when 
 all else fails." 
 
 "If all else fails, I will tell you what I know. 
 Then, if you can show me that I can save Robert, 
 I will." 
 
 "It's a promise?' 
 
 "It's a promise." 
 
 And with that I had to content myself. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS 
 
 THE next few weeks were in a way as busy as any 
 I had ever known. I had arranged with my de- 
 tective agency that I should have a report, either 
 written or verbal, from them each night in regard 
 to whatever progress they might make in their 
 search for the missing man who was supposed to 
 have actually taken the money from the safe. 
 Night after night, it was the same story. There 
 was nothing to report. Granting that he had 
 ever existed, he had disappeared, leaving no faint- 
 est clue behind him. 
 
 I was yet to be convinced that there had ever 
 been such a person. But I was fully aware that 
 my personal convictions would have slight weight 
 with a jury in the face of the testimony that I 
 knew Mrs. Trask would give. It seemed to be 
 an incontrovertible fact that some one had at- 
 tacked Mrs. Trask, had strangled her into a state 
 of semi-consciousness and smothered her with the 
 
 134 
 
A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS 135- 
 
 table-scarf. It would hardly help my case to 
 suggest that Strickland had done so. Besides, I 
 knew that to be impossible. 
 
 Everywhere I turned, I seemed to arrive at a 
 stone wall. What light could not Mrs. Strick- 
 land have thrown on the matter! But she had 
 vanished as completely as if the earth had swal- 
 lowed her, to employ a somewhat trite figure of 
 speech. 
 
 What had she been to Trask? Had I been 
 able to answer that question, I would have pos- 
 sessed the key to the whole riddle. And the one 
 person who seemed to be able to answer that ques- 
 tion for me, was her sister, who, without taking 
 me into her confidence, declared that anything she 
 might say would only make things blacker for my 
 client. 
 
 True, I had her promise that if all else failed, 
 she would place the facts in her possession at my 
 service. That it might then be too late did not 
 seem to occur to her. 
 
 And certainly nothing could be more hopeless 
 than attempting to get anything out of my client. 
 When I pointed out to him that the course he was 
 
136 ON TRIAL 
 
 pursuing was nothing short of suicidal, his only 
 comment was to say that his life had no value in 
 his eyes. He did not fear death. He welcomed 
 it, on the contrary. Even the brutal reminder 
 that the death which he seemed to be courting was 
 a disgraceful one, that for all time his name would 
 be associated in the minds of men with all that 
 was dishonourable, even cowardly, since he had 
 taken his victim by surprise without giving him a 
 chance to defend himself, left him perfectly un- 
 moved. 
 
 On one phase of the case, and one only, was he 
 in the least communicative. He assured me with 
 an earnestness and sincerity that I could not doubt, 
 that to the best of his knowledge there had been 
 no one present but himself and Mrs. Trask when 
 he fired the fatal shot at Trask. He, also, had 
 not seen the so-called "accomplice." 
 
 The only thing that led him to believe that he 
 had ever existed was that when he entered the 
 library he had found Mrs. Trask lying on the 
 floor, her head enveloped in some sort of a cloth. 
 This had puzzled him for the moment. But the 
 
A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS 137 
 
 entrance of Trask from his bedroom had taken 
 his attention from the semi-conscious woman, and 
 it was only when I began to question him that the 
 incident recurred to his mind. It must be borne 
 in mind that he had never met Mrs. Trask. But 
 his natural inference that it was she, had been 
 justified by the facts which I retailed to him in 
 the course of our several interviews. 
 
 His arm was still excessively painful. Glover's 
 stick must have indeed been a stout one, or he 
 was more muscular than one would have gathered 
 from his appearance. Most of the time when 
 I was with him, he passed lying on his cot with 
 his eyes closed. But there were times when he 
 was in such pain that remaining quiescent seemed 
 to be impossible. Upon such occasions, he would 
 pace back and forth in his cell until the pain ex- 
 hausted itself. 
 
 His manner to me was always courteous in the 
 extreme. Not that he took any pains to hide 
 from me that in my official capacity, I was only 
 tolerated because he knew of no way of forbidding 
 my visits. He persisted in his declaration that 
 
138 ON TRIAL 
 
 he did not wish to be defended. Even if he had 
 wished for my services, what possible good could 
 it do? 
 
 He had killed Gerald Trask. He admitted 
 doing so. There was at least one witness to the 
 murder. Why all this red-tape and delay ? He 
 went so far as to ask me how long after his con- 
 viction it would probably be before he could hope 
 to be sentenced. For the moment, I was unable 
 to make proper allowance for the man's condition. 
 His arm must have been giving him greater pain 
 than usual, as during my entire visit he had been 
 pacing up and down his cell, a thing which I had 
 never known him to keep up so long before and 
 I confess I took a cruel pleasure in pointing out 
 to him that that "being sentenced," as he called 
 it, was little more than an empty formality with 
 us nowadays; that I thought he could safely 
 count upon at least a couple of years' respite pend- 
 ing the various appeals et csetera, with which I 
 purposed impeding the progress of Justice. 
 
 I shall not soon forget the look he gave me! 
 But I was sufficiently contrite and ashamed of 
 myself without that, the moment the words had 
 
A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS 139 
 
 left my lips. It is not often that I lose my tem- 
 per so completely. Still, and not entirely in ex- 
 tenuation of my own lack of self-control, I sub- 
 mit that, to put it mildly, Robert Strickland was 
 a most unusual and difficult client. 
 
 It was clear that the only persons upon whom 
 I could depend were Doris and Burke, with Mrs. 
 Stanwood as a last resort when all else failed. 
 Not a very satisfactory state of affairs it must be 
 admitted. Still Burke's story and the child's 
 fitted into one another in a most convincing man- 
 ner. I could certainly establish beyond a reason- 
 able doubt the intrigue carried on between Gerald 
 Trask and the wife of his friend. 
 
 That it had been going on for some little time 
 seemed probable from the cynical effrontery with 
 which they appeared to have carried it off. They 
 pretended never to have met. Mrs. Trask had 
 testified to the fact that when she asked her hus- 
 band on the night of his death what Mrs. Strick- 
 land was like, if she were "nice" and if she were 
 "pretty," or words to that effect, he had carelessly 
 replied that he couldn't tell her since he had never 
 seen the lady in question. And it was morally 
 
140 ON TRIAL 
 
 certain that they had been together in Long 
 Branch only the day before. 
 
 Again, when in response to Strickland's tele- 
 gram, Trask had gone to the house, Strickland had 
 presented his false friend to his wife saying that 
 he wanted them to know one another, and regret- 
 ting that Trask had to hurry away. I repeat that, 
 to my mind, those two little incidents stamped 
 them both as being practised in duplicity. It was 
 hardly a surprise to hear of Trask' s action. His 
 reputation, as I think I have mentioned, was such 
 as to prepare one for any underhanded dealings 
 on his part where women were concerned. But I 
 confess I was astonished at the light in which 
 Mrs. Strickland appeared. 
 
 All that I had been able to learn of her stamped 
 her as a quiet, refined woman of distinctly domes- 
 tic tastes, wholly and entirely devoted to her hus- 
 band and child. All of which only went to show 
 that she had succeeded in deceiving her friends 
 and acquaintances as completely as she had her 
 trusting husband. This being the condition of 
 affairs, I was able to understand one thing which 
 had puzzled me considerably hitherto. And that 
 
A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS 141 
 
 was the matter of the loan of the ten thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 While Trask's business reputation was as good 
 as his personal reputation was bad, I had heard 
 him criticised for a certain hardness in his busi- 
 ness dealings with even his closest friends. That 
 he should have consented to make so large a loan 
 to a man whose affairs seemed to be in the parlous 
 state that Strickland's evidently were at the time 
 of the giving of the note, had never seemed con- 
 sistent with his ordinary policy and methods* 
 Certainly Strickland could hardly have been in a 
 position to offer any great amount of security for 
 the money advanced. 
 
 But Gerald Trask was just the sort of man to 
 whom a situation of this sort would have an extra 
 appeal. To wear the mask of a disinterested and 
 generous friend while carrying on an underhand 
 and vulgar intrigue, would have gratified his 
 mordant sense of humour, would no doubt have 
 added just the sauce necessary to keep him inter- 
 ested in going on with it. 
 
 Yes, every part of the unsavoury affair that had 
 to do with Trask seemed thoroughly consistent 
 
142 ON TRIAL 
 
 with his reputation. But I found it almost as 
 difficult to reconcile Mrs. Strickland to her role as 
 I did to believe that her husband was a thief. 
 
 Granted that she was infatuated with Trask; 
 granted that her love for her husband was all a 
 pretence; or, attributing to her the meanest and 
 most sordid motives rising out of a desire for lux- 
 uries that her husband could no longer provide for 
 her, granted any or all of these things, how explain 
 the fact that a woman so skilled in deception 
 should suddenly go all to pieces and lose her head 
 as completely as she had apparently done on the 
 night of her husband's return. 
 
 Long Branch is not such a great distance that 
 there would be anything necessarily remarkable in 
 a woman's choosing to run down there for a day. 
 There are many people who go there even earlier 
 in the season than the end of June, not to men- 
 tion the large number of persons who live there 
 the year round. 
 
 And yet a person as fertile in resource as Mrs. 
 Strickland must necessarily have been is suddenly 
 paralysed with fright at the apparition of a good- 
 natured, middle-aged Irishman who comes to re- 
 
A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS 143 
 
 store to her the purse she has lost, and for which 
 she has frantically been telephoning at least twice 
 that very day. 
 
 To be sure the purse contained the compromis- 
 ing address of the Trask house. Burke had 
 blurted that out. But that was not until he had 
 been at the house for some little time. And he 
 had said that Mrs. Strickland had "looked 
 scared" from the moment that he came into the 
 room. 
 
 Nothing could have occurred earlier in the 
 evening to arouse her husband's suspicions. Doris 
 had said that neither her father nor Mr. Trask had 
 been at all angry about anything. They had 
 apparently chatted for some little time in a 
 friendly manner. And just as Trask had been on 
 the point of leaving, Strickland had presented him 
 to his wife. 
 
 Why had not the woman frankly said that she 
 had suddenly taken it into her head to run down 
 to the seaside for the afternoon there were a 
 dozen of excuses she might have thought of to ex- 
 plain the impulse that she had in some manner 
 lost her purse, and claimed it as soon as Burke 
 
144 ON TRIAL 
 
 made his errand known'? Burke would have gone 
 away satisfied. The chances were a thousand to 
 one against his having mentioned going to the 
 other house in search of the owner, and even if 
 he had, he would hardly have gone into the par- 
 ticulars of the address. By this simple and 
 natural action she would have had the purse and 
 whatever articles it might have contained which 
 she did not wish her husband to see. 
 
 And there was still another thing to be ex- 
 plained. That was the attitude of Mrs. Stan- 
 wood. I think I have said that I prided my- 
 self upon being a good judge of character. While 
 Mrs. Stanwood impressed me as a woman whom 
 life had treated -harshly, and who was embittered 
 in consequence, if there was one impression that 
 she gave me more than another, it was that she 
 was more than commonly austere. That such a 
 woman should countenance anything like an in- 
 trigue between her sister and Gerald Trask, I 
 could not bring myself to believe. 
 
 And yet she knew all about Trask. She had 
 spoken of him to me with extraordinary vehe- 
 mence. She had spoken of her sister with every 
 
A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS 145 
 
 indication of affection and sympathy; had alluded 
 to a mysterious shock which she had had long 
 ago, but had given me every reason to understand 
 that all her troubles were a thing of the past. 
 She had declared that she had been amazed to 
 learn that Gerald Trask and Robert Strickland 
 were on terms of friendship, and that she knew 
 absolutely nothing that might in any way have 
 led up to the events of the night of June 24th. 
 And she and her sister were on intimate terms and 
 saw each other frequently. 
 
 How McLean and I threshed the matter back 
 and forth ! Night after night, when his work was 
 done, he would join me in my study and we would 
 go over the whole ground with as much zest as if 
 the thing had happened only the day before and 
 this was the first time we had discussed it. We 
 would take turns in trying to convince each other 
 of the most impossible suppositions. An exercise 
 by no means as childish as it sounds. Indeed, for 
 keeping the mind elastic and alert I know of 
 nothing more beneficial than debate, unless it be 
 the ancient game >f Draughts, in which, unfor- 
 tunately McLean was never able to interest him- 
 
146 ON TRIAL 
 
 self, possibly for the reason that he could never 
 acquire any degree of proficiency at it. 
 
 I am sorry to say that for the first time in his 
 life, I thought that I detected unmistakable signs 
 of age in McLean. I won't go so far as to say 
 that his mental powers actually showed symptoms 
 of decay although I found him more ob- 
 stinately tenacious of his own ideas than I had 
 ever before known him to be but he seemed to 
 have lost much of his sense of proportion. 
 
 For example, while he professed to feel nothing 
 but profound sympathy for the unfortunate Strick- 
 land, he seemed to regard the saving of his life as 
 a matter of comparative unimportance, a sort of 
 incident in the case. The theft of the ten thou- 
 sand dollars was the important thing. And he 
 was perfectly obsessed with the notion that Mrs. 
 Trask, and no one else, had taken it, or could have 
 taken it. 
 
 The assault? There was nothing to it. She 
 had been frightened before she had had an oppor- 
 tunity to close the safe, by the entrance of Strick- 
 land. She it was who had snatched the table 
 cover and thrown it over her own head. She had 
 
A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS 147 
 
 then dropped to the floor and pretended to be un- 
 conscious, as she was when Strickland had had his 
 brief glimpse of her. 
 
 Of course this disposed of the accomplice. 
 Had Strickland seen him? Had Glover seen 
 him? Had even Trask seen him? To all of 
 these questions he answered "No!" He ex- 
 plained the last statement rather cleverly by say- 
 ing that it seemed a bit unlikely that a man enter- 
 ing a room and seeing his wife struggling with a 
 strange man would first stop to answer the tele- 
 phone before going to her assistance. 
 
 I confess that I found it extremely difficult to 
 refute this line of argument. I contented myself 
 with pointing out that the whole thing was of 
 secondary importance. A fact which he could 
 not be brought to see, or at least to acknowl- 
 edge. 
 
 And so in the end we had to come back to Doris. 
 My heart sank at the thought of the task I had be- 
 fore me. She would be my star witness. I must 
 go over and over the story with her; must try to 
 make her see what was important and what was 
 not; must drill her, harry her, worry her, torment 
 
148 ON TRIAL 
 
 her, until for all time the very sound of my name 
 would be hateful in her ears. A pleasant task, 
 truly ! But it had to be done. 
 
 I had anticipated having to combat her aunt's 
 opposition. But to my surprise, beyond regret- 
 ting with me the harsh necessity which compelled 
 me to adopt such a course, she offered no objection 
 to it. 
 
 I will not attempt to describe those trying hours. 
 She always broke down and wept as she neared the 
 end. If anything, her terror when she came to 
 describe the sound she had heard through the 
 telephone, seemed to increase as time went by. 
 More than once, I was on the point of abandon- 
 ing the idea of calling her at all. But what be- 
 came of my case without her*? Could anything 
 else but his child's story save the father's life? I 
 thought not. 
 
 Then I had to accustom her to the idea of re- 
 peating the whole thing before people, before 
 strangers. A thousand times I reminded her that 
 it was all to help her father. It was touching to 
 see how that thought alone sustained her and 
 spurred her flagging courage. 
 
A CHILD MY STAR WITNESS 149 
 
 With her aunt's permission, I brought her home 
 with me to luncheon one day, and succeeded in 
 persuading her later in the afternoon to tell her 
 story before McLean. After that, I was less fear- 
 ful. To be sure there were days when she seemed 
 actually unable to recall little incidents which she 
 had remembered perfectly only the day before. 
 Fortunately the day appointed for the trial of the 
 case was not far off. Otherwise, I should have 
 been fearful of a nervous breakdown overtaking 
 my star witness. 
 
 The day before the trial, she took me for the 
 long promised walk on Riverside Drive. I had 
 promised her that we would not even speak of the 
 dread subject. But as we were coming home, she 
 introduced it herself. 
 
 "Mr. Arbuckle, if I get really and truly fright- 
 ened and forget that I am being a help to my 
 daddy, will you hold up your finger like this to 
 remind me?" She held up the middle finger of 
 her left hand, the other fingers closed. 
 
 "I certainly will, my dear," I promised. 
 
 "I don't think I'll forget, but I may, if I get 
 frightened, you know." 
 
150 ON TRIAL 
 
 "There's nothing to be frightened about," I 
 assured her. 
 
 But I prepared for the morrow with as heavy a 
 heart as I ever had in my life. Once get the 
 robbery motive out of the heads of the Jury, and 
 we had a chance. But I didn't yet see just how 
 that was to be done. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE STATE'S STRONG CASE 
 
 FOR even the two days while the District Attorney 
 and I had been wrangling over the choice of Jury- 
 men, the court room had been crowded to the 
 doors. To my astonishment, a large part of the 
 assemblage was made up of women. Many of 
 them were aristocratic looking, even refined. I 
 learned later that a number of the leaders of so- 
 ciety were present. For some obscure reason, the 
 trial was the fashion. 
 
 I could not account for this on the ground of the 
 social position of the Trasks. And certainly, the 
 Stricklands made no pretensions to mingling with 
 the great world. While the former had enjoyed 
 a position in society good in its way, they had 
 never aspired or if they had done so, they could 
 have scarcely been said to have realised their 
 dream to a position in the so-called Four Hun- 
 dred. 
 
 But, be that as it may, wealth and fashion were 
 151 
 
152 ON TRIAL 
 
 well represented, and hundreds of those unfor- 
 tunate enough to be without any especial influence 
 were reported to have been turned away. 
 
 His Honour, Judge Dinsmore, whose reputa- 
 tion for impartiality and fairness is equalled only 
 by his reputation for a profound knowledge of 
 the law, presided. 
 
 The third day of the trial found us well before 
 noon with the Jury Box at last filled. I heard the 
 Judge pronounce the words : "You may proceed, 
 Mr. Gray," with a feeling of infinite relief. At 
 last, we were to begin. 
 
 Mr. Gray, the District Attorney, rose slowly to 
 his feet. As he paused a moment before begin- 
 ning his address, I said to myself, as I have had 
 occasion to say before, that an imposing and dig- 
 nified presence is a tremendous asset before a Jury. 
 I realised that the greatest battle of my life lay be- 
 fore me. 
 
 "So be it," said I to myself, "and may the just 
 
 cause win !" 
 
 And then the District Attorney began. 
 "May it please the Court: Gentlemen of the 
 Jury, this case is a very simple one. The facts, 
 
THE STATE'S STRONG CASE 153 
 
 as they have appeared from time to time in the 
 newspapers, are no doubt familiar to all of you. 
 In order to refresh your recollections, however, I 
 will outline very briefly the circumstances which 
 we shall put in evidence. 
 
 "Mr. Gerald Trask, as you know, was a prom- 
 inent banker of this city. He was a distinguished 
 member of the community, and occupied impor- 
 tant places in the social and financial worlds. 
 Among Mr. Trask' s acquaintances was Robert 
 Strickland, the defendant. At the time they be- 
 came acquainted, Strickland was a rather prosper- 
 ous business man, and he and Mr. Trask fre- 
 quently met. 
 
 "Some months ago, Strickland began to have 
 business troubles. The cause of these difficulties 
 does not concern us, gentlemen. But what does 
 interest us is that Strickland, becoming more and 
 more involved, found it necessary to go to his 
 friend, Gerald Trask, for financial assistance. 
 
 "Mr. Trask responded with his habitual gener- 
 osity, and promptly loaned Strickland ten thou- 
 sand dollars, taking the latter^ note as security. 
 But Strickland's business did not improve, and 
 
154 ON TRIAL 
 
 he decided to migrate to the West. The note was 
 payable on the 22nd of June, two days before the 
 murder. When the 22nd arrived, Strickland was 
 in Cleveland, Ohio, making arrangements for him- 
 self and family. He returned, however, on the 
 24th, the night of the murder, sent for Mr. Trask, 
 and took up the note. 
 
 "I call your attention to the fact, gentlemen, 
 that Strickland paid the debt in cash. He was a 
 business man. He did not pay it in check or by 
 draft, but in cash ! Ten thousand dollars in cash ! 
 Mr. Trask had offered to let the loan stand until 
 Strickland should be on his feet again. But 
 Strickland wouldn't hear of it. 
 
 "You will understand his eagerness to cancel the 
 debt in a moment, gentlemen. It was because he 
 had evolved a little plan whereby he could wipe 
 out the obligation without it costing him a cent. 
 The scheme was simple enough, gentlemen. 
 
 "He knew very well that Mr. Trask would have 
 to keep the ten thousand dollars in his house over 
 night, and that he would almost certainly lock it 
 up in the safe in his library. And what is more, 
 gentlemen, he knew the combination to Mr. 
 
THE STATE'S STRONG CASE 155 
 
 Trask' s safe. Bear in mind that only two people 
 knew the combination to that safe Gerald Trask 
 and Strickland. 
 
 "But Strickland hadn't the nerve to do the job 
 alone, so he called in an assistant. Accordingly, 
 he and his accomplice entered Mr. Trask's house a 
 few hours after Strickland had paid over the 
 money. The accomplice went to work on the 
 safe and Strickland stood guard. The profes- 
 sional burglar succeeded without much difficulty 
 in opening the safe and extracting the ten thou- 
 sand dollars, while Strickland superintended the 
 job. Before they could escape, however, they 
 were interrupted, first by Mrs. Trask and then 
 by her husband. 
 
 "The accomplice made a hasty exit, taking the 
 plunder with him. That was the last that was 
 heard of the accomplice, gentlemen. Who he is, 
 or where he went, we have been unable to learn. 
 
 "But Mr. Strickland was caught red-handed, 
 and believing, evidently, that dead men tell no 
 tales, he shot and killed his friend and benefactor, 
 Gerald Trask, in cold blood. 
 
 "There you have the story, gentlemen. Mrs. 
 
156 ON TRIAL 
 
 Trask, the widow of the murdered man, will tell 
 it to you in detail. Her testimony will be cor- 
 roborated by Mr. Stanley Glover, Mr. Trask's 
 secretary. 
 
 "Thanks to his bravery, the assassin was dis- 
 armed and captured. It is Mr. Glover who has 
 given us material assistance in linking up the chain 
 of evidence against the defendant. I call your 
 attention to the fact that not one of the acts is 
 disputed. Strickland, realising the futility of in- 
 terposing a defence, has refused " 
 
 I was on my feet at that. 
 
 "I object to that." 
 
 "Counsel will not interrupt." 
 
 And Gray continued. "Strickland, I say, has 
 refused to make any effort to defend himself. 
 When he was arraigned " 
 
 Again I made an objection only to be over- 
 ruled once more. 
 
 "Counsel will not interrupt." 
 
 "When he was arraigned," continued the Dis- 
 trict Attorney, "he pleaded guilty to the indict- 
 ment of murder in the first degree. Perhaps, 
 gentlemen, you ask, if this be so, why are we here*? 
 
THE STATE'S STRONG CASE 157 
 
 Why is the County put to the expense of this 
 trial ? An expense which we taxpayers must meet 
 in the end. Why must you business men be taken 
 from your occupations'? Why must you be com- 
 pelled to lose your valuable time*? Why is not 
 the penalty allotted to murderers inflicted upon 
 the defendant? 
 
 "And in answer to that, I say to you, because, 
 gentlemen, the State is jealous of the lives of her 
 citizens. To Her, the existence of an individual 
 is sacred, no matter if he be depraved, degenerate, 
 possessed of criminal instincts, dangerous to so- 
 ciety. She will not permit even a self-confessed 
 murderer to be put to death until twelve of his fel- 
 low citizens, sitting in solemn judgment, calmly, 
 dispassionately hearing and weighing the facts, 
 have decreed that that man shall suffer the conse- 
 quences of his crime. 
 
 "That is why we are here to-day, gentlemen. 
 That is why His Honour has assigned such dis- 
 tinguished counsel to defend Strickland. And 
 that is why, before we ask you to visit upon this 
 defendant the punishment he merits, we shall, by 
 the unimpeachable testimony of eye-witnesses, 
 
158 ON TRIAL 
 
 convince you of his guilt beyond the peradventure 
 of a doubt. 
 
 "Unfortunately, his partner in crime has made 
 good his escape. But the greater criminal is in 
 our hands, gentlemen. We can make him pay the 
 penalty of the law. I shall take up no more of 
 your time. The facts will speak for themselves." 
 
 The District Attorney resumed his seat. I 
 could tell without looking at the Jury that he had 
 produced a tremendous effect. He enjoyed no 
 mean reputation as an orator. Every one, in- 
 cluding myself, had expected that he would seize 
 the occasion to give us the finest example of his 
 talent. Certainly he could not hope to have the 
 opportunity, soon again, for displaying it before 
 so brilliant and distinguished an audience. 
 
 But with a shrewdness and self-control, for 
 which I confess I had not given him credit, he had 
 refrained from gratifying what I might call the 
 more personal side of his vanity. No flowers of 
 oratory could have served his ultimate purpose as 
 well as the plain matter-of-fact tone that he had 
 elected to adopt. It was as if he disdained to 
 employ his great gifts in a case so palpably simple. 
 
THE STATE'S STRONG CASE 159 
 
 As I rose to address the Jury in my turn, I glanced 
 at my client to see, if possible, what effect Mr. 
 Gray's speech had had on him. 
 
 One would have said that he had not even 
 heard it. He sat with his head on his chest and 
 his eyes half closed. His attitude was almost 
 identical with that he had preserved during the 
 inquest. I doubt if any one in that crowded 
 court room took as little interest in the proceed- 
 ings as he. 
 
 "If the Court pleases : Gentlemen of the 
 Jury," I began. "When His Honour assigned me 
 to the defence of this case, it seemed to me that 
 the prosecution's theory was untenable. 
 
 "I knew Mr. Strickland by reputation, and I 
 scouted the burglary hypothesis. This belief 
 strengthened as I became better acquainted with 
 Mr. Strickland. A man of superlative honour 
 and integrity, equipped with a splendid mentality 
 and an excellent reputation, not addicted to bad 
 habits or expensive luxuries, devotedly attached 
 to his wife and child that is not the sort of man 
 who breaks into his friend's house for the purpose 
 of theft. 
 
160 ON TRIAL 
 
 "The case seemed to me to be not nearly so clear 
 and simple as my friend Mr. Gray makes it out 
 to be. But, despite my certainty that there 
 lurked a mystery in this grim affair, I could learn 
 nothing that would aid me in substantiating my 
 belief. 
 
 "As my friend has told you, Mr. Strickland has 
 maintained throughout an obstinate, unbreakable 
 silence. In all my years at the Bar, gentlemen, I 
 have never before encountered any one who has 
 declined so resolutely to yield to persuasion. 
 Threats, entreaties and logic alike have left him 
 indifferent. 
 
 "At last I reached the conclusion that Strick- 
 land was shielding some one most likely the un- 
 known accomplice who assaulted Mrs. Trask and 
 broke open the safe. In the hope of learning the 
 identity of this man, and, if possible, the motive 
 Strickland had in shielding him, I endeavoured to 
 locate the members of Strickland's family. 
 
 "Judge of my surprise, gentlemen, when I 
 learned that the defendant's wife had disappeared 
 from her home on the night of the tragedy, and 
 has not been seen nor heard from since. All my 
 
THE STATE'S STRONG CASE 161 
 
 attempts to find her have been fruitless. I have 
 been forced to believe" I spoke the words slowly, 
 looking straight at Strickland as I did so "that 
 she took her life." 
 
 For the first time he showed emotion. His 
 breath came in gasping sobs. His free hand was 
 clenched. Tears forced their way from beneath 
 his closed eyelids. I could not believe that my 
 statement came to him altogether as a shock. 
 That is, I did not think it possible that he had 
 never entertained the idea himself. Rather was 
 it the confirmation of his own secret fear that 
 broke down at last his stony self-control. 
 
 Heartless as the statement may seem, I was 
 glad to see it. Might not the thought of his child, 
 now alone in the world but for him, impel him to 
 make a tardy fight for his life*? Might he not, at 
 the eleventh hour, break the silence he had so 
 obstinately maintained*? And I had yet another 
 blow for him. One that I felt certain would 
 strike him in the heart ! I felt almost as much of 
 a brute as I did when dragging her story from 
 poor little Doris' reluctant lips, or when patiently 
 going over and over her testimony with her until 
 
162 ON TRIAL 
 
 it should be in a form in which it could be pre- 
 sented in Court. 
 
 "I did succeed," I went on, speaking slowly and 
 distinctly, "in finding Doris, the little daughter of 
 the defendant. When you have heard her story, 
 gentlemen, you will agree with me that to- send 
 Strickland to his death would be a gross miscar- 
 riage of justice. That is all for the present, gen- 
 tlemen." 
 
 I had not miscalculated the effect of my closing 
 words. At the mention of his child's name, for 
 the first time Strickland had opened his eyes fully. 
 Amazement and indignation were in his face. 
 The glance of reproachful scorn that he gave me 
 would have seared me, had I not felt buttressed 
 by the conviction that what I had done, and was 
 about to do, was for the best. 
 
 The last word had hardly fallen from my lips 
 before he was on his feet. Leaning heavily 
 against the table, he addressed his appeal to the 
 Court. 
 
 "Your Honour, I won't have it! I won't have 
 my little girl dragged into this case. I've pleaded 
 
THE STATE'S STRONG CASE 163 
 
 guilty," he went on with growing passion, "and 
 I'm willing to suffer the consequences !" 
 
 "Your case is in the hands of your counsel," 
 said Judge Dinsmore. There was both sympathy 
 and understanding in his voice. 
 
 "I don't want counsel! I have no defence! 
 Why don't you sentence me*? Why " 
 
 "Proceed, Mr. Gray," interrupted the Judge, 
 sternly. 
 
 "Your Honour " began Strickland once more. 
 
 "Silence!" thundered the Judge, banging with 
 his gavel. 
 
 Strickland sank back into his chair. 
 
 "Call Mrs. Gerald Trask," said the District 
 Attorney. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 
 
 IN going to the witness stand, Mrs. Trask did what 
 I felt sure was a very characteristic thing. It was 
 necessary, unless she chose to make a somewhat 
 wide detour which could not have failed to at- 
 tract attention, for her to pass close beside the 
 table where the defendant was sitting. The dig- 
 nified course would have been to have chosen the 
 nearer way, without paying any attention to the 
 unhappy man, crouched once more over his 
 table. 
 
 But Mrs. Trask saw an opportunity to indulge 
 in a little piece of theatricalism. With a slow 
 and stately step, she reached Strickland's side. 
 For a long moment she paused, holding back her 
 trailing black skirt with one gloved hand, while 
 she swept that bowed figure with one of those 
 scorching and brilliant glances which so trans- 
 formed her face. I cannot say as to the effect 
 that her action produced upon the majority of 
 
 164 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 165 
 
 those who noted it, but I felt sure that all deli- 
 cately minded people would condemn it. So 
 much the better, if the Jury should be of my way 
 of thinking ! 
 
 The oath having been administered, the District 
 Attorney began his examination. 
 "What is your name?" 
 "Joan Trask." 
 
 "Mrs. Trask, are you the widow of Gerald 
 Trask?" 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "How long were you married to Mr. Trask?" 
 "Almost fifteen years." 
 
 I could see that this answer created some little 
 surprise among those persons who moved in the 
 same social set that Mrs. Trask had done. Evi- 
 dently they had not been present at the inquest 
 or they would have recalled that Mrs. Trask had 
 then admitted that her marriage had for family 
 reasons been kept secret for some years. 
 
 "Do you remember the night of June 24th?" 
 
 "Indeed I do." 
 
 "Where were you on that evening?" 
 
 "I had been dining out with friends." 
 
166 ON TRIAL 
 
 "What time did you arrive home?" 
 
 "About half-past nine." 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Trask, I want you to describe to 
 the Court and Jury everything that occurred after 
 you arrived home." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to go over her testimony 
 again. In substance it has already been given, at 
 least, in so far as her account of the murder and 
 the events preceding it. But there were some 
 things of interest in her description of what fol- 
 lowed. She had just finished telling of how 
 Glover had sent for the doctor, when she paused, 
 as if waiting for a further question. 
 
 Mr. Gray seeing that she hesitated, assisted her 
 by asking: 
 
 "Yes, and then?" 
 
 "A few minutes later, the police arrived." 
 
 "And your husband was dead by that time?" 
 
 "Yes. He died instantly, the doctor said." 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Trask, did you observe the safe be- 
 fore the police arrived?" 
 
 We were coming to that part of the testimony 
 which I had so much reason to dread. 
 
 "Yes; the safe was opened." 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 167 
 
 "Did you notice if any of the contents were 
 missing?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. The ten thousand dollars was 
 gone." 
 
 "That's all, Mrs. Trask." 
 
 "You may cross-examine the witness, Mr. Ar- 
 buckle." 
 
 He flashed a glance at me in which I thought I 
 detected a gleam of triumph, and took his seat. 
 
 "Mrs. Trask," I said getting slowly on my feet, 
 "did you recognise your assailant, the man who 
 opened the safe?" 
 
 "No. He came upon me so quickly. And the 
 room was in total darkness." 
 
 "Are you sure that no one but Mr. Trask knew 
 the combination of the safe?" 
 
 That dangerous gleam flashed across her face. 
 
 "Mr. Strickland knew it." 
 
 "I move to strike out that answer as not re- 
 sponsive," I said calmly. 
 
 Instantly Gray was on his feet. 
 
 "I. Your Honour" 
 
 "The motion is denied," ruled Judge Dinsmore. 
 
 "I respectfully except. Mrs. Trask, did any 
 
168 ON TRIAL 
 
 words pass between Strickland and your assail- 
 ant?' 
 
 "I cannot be sure. There was a ringing in my 
 ears. He almost strangled me." 
 
 "But, to the best of your knowledge, they did 
 not speak to each other?" 
 
 "I can't say one way or the other." 
 
 I waited a moment. 
 
 "Mrs. Trask," I said slowly, emphasising my 
 words, "do you know who 'May' is*?" 
 
 Mrs. Trask was even more emphatic in her 
 reply. 
 
 "No, sir, I do not." 
 
 "You are quite sure?" 
 
 "Perfectly sure." 
 
 I said that I had no further questions. 
 
 "That's all, Mrs. Trask," said Gray, and she 
 left the stand. 
 
 "Is Dr. Morgan in the witness room?" asked 
 the District Attorney. 
 
 There was a moment's delay while one of the 
 attendants opened a door leading from the court 
 room and called Doctor Morgan's name. 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 169 
 
 "Your Honour," explained Gray, "Dr. Morgan 
 is the physician who examined Mr. Trask's body. 
 He told me that he might be detained." 
 
 "Dr. Morgan is not here," announced the at- 
 tendant. 
 
 "With Your Honour's permission," continued 
 the District Attorney, "I will call Mr. Glover, in 
 order not to delay the trial." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Call Mr. Stanley Glover." 
 
 "Stanley Glover," called the attendant. And 
 young Glover came into the court. 
 
 "What is your name?" asked Gray, after 
 Glover had taken the oath. 
 
 "Stanley Glover." 
 
 "Mr. Glover, you were the late Gerald Trask's 
 private secretary, were you not?" 
 
 "I was, sir." 
 
 "On the night of June the 24th, after you left 
 the library with Mrs. Trask's books, what did you 
 do?" 
 
 "I went upstairs to my room." 
 
 "Describe what occurred then." 
 
 "I began going over the books. About half an 
 
170 ON TRIAL 
 
 hour later I heard a shot, then I heard Mrs. Trask 
 scream, and another shot fired. I picked up a 
 heavy cane I happened to have in my room, and 
 rushed downstairs to the library. Mr. Trask's 
 body was on the floor, and Strickland was stand- 
 ing at the other side of the room, with a revolver 
 in his hand." 
 
 'What did you do?" 
 
 "I dashed at Strickland, and struck his arm with 
 the cane. He dropped the revolver and fell to 
 the floor." 
 
 "When you entered the room, did you see any 
 sign of the other man*?" 
 
 "No, sir. The French windows at the back of 
 the room were open, and he must have escaped 
 that way." 
 
 "What happened then?" 
 
 While Mrs. Trask was telephoning for the 
 police, I kept watch on Strickland. Then I hap- 
 pened to remember what Mr. Trask had said about 
 giving Strickland the card with the combination 
 to the safe on it, and I thought that he might 
 have it on him, and that, if he did, it would prove 
 of value to the police." 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 171 
 
 "I object to the witness stating what he 
 thought," I objected. 
 
 "Yes; strike out that part of the answer," or- 
 dered the Judge. 
 
 The stenographer did so. 
 
 "Just tell what you did and saw, Mr. Glover." 
 
 "Well, I began to search Strickland's pockets." 
 
 "Was that before the police arrived?" 
 
 "Yes. I was afraid that he might destroy the 
 card." 
 
 I sprang to my feet. I did not propose to per- 
 mit Mr. Glover to employ the tactics he had used 
 at the inquest! 
 
 "Your Honour, I ask that the witness be in- 
 structed to answer the questions and no more." 
 
 "Strike out the answer," commanded the Judge. 
 
 Then, leaning over his desk, he said to Glover 
 in a kind but firm tone : 
 
 "You must confine your answers to the ques- 
 tions which are put to you. You are not to 
 volunteer anything, and you are not to tell what 
 passed through your mind. Is that clear?" 
 
 "Yes, Your Honour." 
 
 "Proceed, Mr. Gray." 
 
172 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Did you find the card in Strickland's pocket?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Is this it?' 
 
 He passed a card up to the witness, who ex- 
 amined it carefully. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I offer it in evidence," said Gray, repossessing 
 himself of the card. He then addressed himself 
 to the Jury. 
 
 "This People's exhibit A. is a visiting card. On 
 the face is engraved in old English type the name 
 of 'Mr. Gerald Trask.' Below that is written in 
 pencil, '206 Henderson Place, Long Branch.' On 
 the other side is written in words and figures: '14 
 right 2,27, left 3.' Is there any question about the 
 handwriting, Mr. Arbuckle?" 
 
 "You'd better prove it," said I dryly. 
 
 "Mr. Glover, are you familiar with Mr. 
 Trask's handwriting?" 
 
 "Yes; I know it perfectly." 
 
 "You've seen it often on letters and docu- 
 ments?" 
 
 "Hundreds of times." 
 
 He handed the card back to the witness. 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 173 
 
 "I show you this card and ask you whether the 
 address '206 Henderson Place, Long Branch,' is 
 in Mr. Trask's writing." 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Now turn the card, please. Are the words 
 and figures, '14 right 2,27 left 3' also in Mr. 
 Trask's writing?" 
 
 "They are." 
 
 "There's no doubt in your mind about that?" 
 
 "Absolutely none," said the witness with con- 
 viction. 
 
 "Do you know the significance of those figures, 
 '14 right 2,27 left 3'?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "It is the combination to Mr. Trask's safe." 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "When the police arrived, I gave them this card. 
 We locked the safe, and opened it with this com- 
 bination." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Glover, I call your attention to the 
 fact that the card is torn almost in half. Can you 
 explain how that occurred?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. As I took the card from Strickland's 
 
174 ON TRIAL 
 
 pocket, he snatched it out of my hand, and started 
 to tear it in half. Before he had torn it all the 
 way, I managed to get hold of it again." 
 
 I did not cross-examine the witness. 
 
 The next witness was Dr. Morgan. 
 
 "Dr. Morgan, in what condition did you find 
 Mr. Trask's body?' 
 
 "I found two bullet wounds." 
 
 "Describe them, please." 
 
 "One was a slight flesh wound on the right 
 shoulder caused by a grazing bullet." 
 
 "And the other?' 
 
 "The other bullet entered the body just above 
 the left breast, and lodged in the heart." 
 
 "That's all, Dr. Morgan." 
 
 Again, I stated that I had no cross-examina- 
 tion. 
 
 "That's the case for the prosecution, Your 
 Honour." 
 
 There was a murmur, possibly of surprise, in 
 the court room, which His Honour promptly 
 checked. I heard the words: 
 
 "Proceed with the defence, Mr. Arbuckle." 
 
 Strickland may have thought that he had 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 175 
 
 drained the cup of bitterness to the dregs, but I 
 realised that one of the bitterest hours of his life 
 was yet to come. From my heart, I pitied him ! 
 But it was the only way. 
 
 "I'll call Miss Doris Strickland." 
 
 _ 
 
 The effect of these words on Strickland was 
 electric. His child was, apparently, the one point 
 at which he might be said to be still vulnerable. 
 I, of course, understood the deeper significance of 
 his attitude. It was not only his child but his 
 wife that he was willing to protect even at the sac- 
 rifice of going to a dishonoured grave, not only as 
 a cold-blooded murderer, but with the additional 
 brand of a thief. That was what I deemed it my 
 duty to prevent. 
 
 He stood swaying by the table as if he were in- 
 toxicated, as he pleaded once again with His 
 Honour not to let me carry out my plan for his 
 defence. 
 
 "No, Your Honour, no! Not that! Don't 
 let her testify. She's my little girl. She is all 
 I've got left. Don't let her testify !" 
 
 For the moment, even Mrs. Trask might have 
 found it in her heart to pity him. But I saw no 
 
176 ON TRIAL 
 
 sign of pity in her cold face as I glanced at her. 
 
 "You must leave your case in the hands of your 
 counsel," admonished Judge Dinsmore, gently. 
 "He will protect your interests." 
 
 "I don't want to be protected. Protect my 
 little girl. Don't bring her in here." 
 
 At that moment, Doris came into the room, 
 holding the hand of one of the attendants. Her 
 eyes sought her father. When, at length, she saw 
 him, all the pretty colour left her face. In spite 
 of what I had told her in my effort to prepare her 
 for his changed appearance, I could see that she 
 was stunned at the havoc which the weeks had 
 wrought. 
 
 "May I speak to my daddy?" she whispered, as 
 I went over to her. 
 
 "Only a moment, dear child. Remember that 
 you are going to be a brave little girl and answer 
 all my questions so that all these people can hear 
 you. You and I are the only two persons who 
 can help your father." 
 
 "I'll remember," she promised. 
 
 I led her over to her father's side. In another 
 second, they were sobbing in each other's arms. I 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 177 
 
 waited a minute, and then I put my hand on 
 Strickland's shoulder. 
 
 "Come, Strickland, this won't do. Come, 
 Doris, remember your promise, come and sit up 
 in that chair there." 
 
 "No, no! Take her out of here. She's all I 
 have left to me." 
 
 "Up there, Doris." 
 
 I took her by the hand and led her to the wit- 
 ness chair. 
 
 "Your Honour," said Strickland in a last des- 
 perate effort, "I want to keep my child out of 
 this. It's the only request I've made. You're a 
 man, Your Honour, a father, perhaps " 
 
 "I am powerless to help you," said the Judge 
 gravely. "I am merely an instrument of the law 
 which will mete out justice to you. The law must 
 be permitted to take its course. Proceed, Mr. 
 Arbuckle." 
 
 Strickland sank into his chair. He buried his 
 face in his arms spread out on the table before 
 him. Not once while the child was on the stand 
 did he alter his position. 
 
 "Your Honour," said the District Attorney, "I 
 
178 ON TRIAL 
 
 respectfully ask that the competency of this child 
 to testify be determined." 
 
 "By all means, Your Honour," I hastened to 
 agree. 
 
 Again, Judge Dinsmore leaned forward from 
 behind his desk. His tone was unwontedly gen- 
 tle. 
 
 "How old are you, Doris?" 
 
 The child gave him one of those quick apprais- 
 ing glances with which children accost strangers. 
 Apparently, she was satisfied with the result of her 
 scrutiny, for she gave him a brave little smile, and 
 answered in a clear voice which could readily be 
 heard in any part of the crowded room. 
 
 "I'm going to be nine years old on the 6th 
 of November." 
 
 "And do you go to school?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I was promoted. I'm in the Gram- 
 mar School now." 
 
 "Did you ever go to Sunday school?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I went every Sunday before be- 
 fore my mamma went away. But now my Aunt 
 Helen won't let me go, because all the children 
 talk about me and make me cry." 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 179 
 
 "Did you learn in Sunday school that you must 
 always tell the truth ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. That's one of the Ten Command- 
 ments. 'Thou shalt not bear false witness against 
 thy neighbour.' That means that you should 
 never tell a lie. Miss Weston told us that." 
 
 "Who is Miss Weston?" 
 
 "She's my Sunday school teacher. She taught 
 me all of the Ten Commandments. Shall I say 
 them for you*?" 
 
 "Not now." 
 
 The Judge turned to the District Attorney with 
 a smile. 
 
 "I think she may testify. Proceed, Mr. Ar- 
 buckle." 
 
 I crossed over in front of the table where I 
 could be nearer. 
 
 "Doris, what is your full name?" 
 
 "Doris Helen Strickland." 
 
 "Who is your father?" 
 
 "That's my daddy there." 
 
 She stood up as if she were about to run back to 
 him, but I stopped her with a warning look, to 
 remind her of her promise. 
 
i8o ON TRIAL 
 
 "Robert Strickland is your father?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Doris, do you remember the night on which 
 Mr. Trask was shot?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Had your father been away from home?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. He was away in Cleveland. Buy- 
 ing a house for my mamma and me to live in." 
 
 "And he came back that evening?" 
 
 "Vxic oif " 
 
 i es, sir. 
 
 "Now, just before he came home, where were 
 you?" 
 
 "I was in our sitting room." 
 
 "That was about half-past seven, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And what were you doing?" 
 
 "I was waiting for Daddy." 
 
 "Yes, I know. But were you reading, or play- 
 ing, or sitting still?" 
 
 "I was practising my piano lesson part of the 
 time." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "And then I remembered that my mamma was 
 lying down resting, and I stopped." 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 181 
 
 "And what did you do then?" 
 
 "I went and sat behind the end of the sofa and 
 played with my dolls until Mamma came in to 
 telephone to the man about the purse she had 
 lost." 
 
 At the table behind me, I could hear Strickland 
 stir uneasily, but he did not lift his head. 
 
 Through all that long story which we had gone 
 over together again and again, I led the poor child. 
 There were times when she hesitated; times when 
 she appealed to me with a look to spare her from 
 the long and harrowing ordeal to which I was ask- 
 ing her to submit. After the preliminary ques- 
 tions and answers I was careful to stand so that 
 she could not catch even a glimpse of her father's 
 bowed head. I was more afraid for him than for 
 her. I knew that I had succeeded in instilling 
 into her childish mind that she was doing it all 
 to help her "daddy." I felt sure that I could 
 count upon her loyal devotion to him. But it 
 was too much to suppose that she would be proof 
 against the strain of his making another of his 
 passionate appeals to the Court. 
 
 How much of the story that she was telling he 
 
182 ON TRIAL 
 
 took in, I had no means of judging. But from 
 time to time the choking sound that I heard from 
 the table behind me made me apprehensive that 
 he was nearing the breaking point. At all costs, 
 I must get Doris' story before the Jury. Once 
 established that the motive for shooting Gerald 
 Trask had nothing to do with the disappearance 
 of the money in his safe, I felt that Strickland 
 had a chance for his life. 
 
 True, he had asserted and reiterated that his 
 life was valueless in his own eyes. No doubt he 
 had justification for thinking so. Nevertheless, I 
 believed that, should he escape being called upon 
 to pay the extreme penalty of the law, the day 
 would yet dawn when he would be thankful to 
 have done so, if only for the sake of his brave 
 little daughter. 
 
 Not that I imagined for a moment that the 
 child before me in the least comprehended the 
 significance of the shameful history I was dragging 
 from her reluctant lips. To impute such knowl- 
 edge to an innocent little girl would be monstrous. 
 But it was none the less a hideous and frightful 
 experience for her. The shock and terror of the 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 183 
 
 circumstances surrounding the disappearance of 
 both her parents was with her still. 
 
 Added to this, the meeting with her father, the 
 dreadful change in his appearance, the mystery 
 which enveloped everything connected with him, 
 the uncertainty as to when they were going to be 
 united again coupled with the total disappearance 
 of her equally loved mother only added to the 
 strain under which she was labouring. 
 
 At last we were nearing the end. The child 
 had done marvels. I could not have asked for a 
 better witness. Upon the few occasions when she 
 had faltered, I had only to admonish her with an 
 upraised finger the signal we had agreed upon 
 and she found new courage to go on. 
 
 We had come to that point in her narrative when 
 her frantic mother had attempted to get Gerald 
 Trask on the telephone and had snatched her child 
 in her arms hysterically calling her by every en- 
 dearing name that her distracted mind could sug- 
 gest, when Doris broke down utterly. 
 
 "I'm afraid! I'm afraid!" she sobbed. 
 
 "Don't cry, Doris. I won't be much longer. 
 Whom did your mother call up^" 
 
184 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Mr. Trask. But he wasn't there." 
 
 "How do you know he wasn't there ?" 
 
 "Because Mamma said: 'I will call again.' " 
 
 "Then what did she do?" 
 
 "She cried, and walked up and down the room, 
 and said lots of terrible things." 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 "She said: 'Why didn't I tell him! Why 
 didn't I tell him!'" 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "Then I cried, too, because I was frightened. 
 I wanted to talk to her, but she wouldn't. I was 
 awfully afraid. I'm afraid now." 
 
 "Don't cry, Doris. It will only be a few min- 
 utes longer. Then we'll be through with you." 
 
 But, for the time being, she had completely lost 
 her self-control. 
 
 "I want my mamma!" 
 
 "Try not to cry. Just a little while longer. 
 That's a good girl. Are you listening to me?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the poor child, choking back 
 a sob. 
 
 "Did your mother call up again?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. And she said: 'Is that you, Gerald 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 185 
 
 ''' 
 Trask?' I don't want to talk any more. My 
 
 head hurts and I'm afraid !" 
 
 "Don't be afraid. We'll be finished in a mo- 
 ment. Your mother said: Ts that you, Gerald 
 Trask?' " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 ("What happened then?" 
 "Then then oh, I don't know." 
 
 "Yes, you do, Doris. Just try to think. 
 You've told me about it a great many times." 
 
 "I don't remember." 
 
 "Try to think a moment. Be a brave girl. 
 Did you hear a noise through the telephone?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Here, the District Attorney saw fit to interrupt 
 us. 
 
 "If the Court please, I must insist that my 
 friend refrain from leading the witness." 
 
 "I submit, Your Honour, that the child is la- 
 bouring under a terrific strain, and that I must be 
 allowed some latitude." 
 
 "Try not to lead the witness," admonished the 
 Court. 
 
 "You say you heard a noise, Doris?" 
 
186 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "What kind of a noise was it?" 
 
 "I don't know. A funny noise. Like a little 
 firecracker." 
 
 "And what did your mother do when she heard 
 the noise?" 
 
 "She screamed and said: 'My God, he's killed 
 him!' Please let me go. I don't want to talk 
 any more." 
 
 "Just one more question, and you'll be all 
 through." 
 
 "I don't want to." 
 
 "What did your mother do after she said : 'My 
 God, he's killed him'?" 
 
 "She took me in her arms and kissed me and 
 said: f Good-bye.' And I cried because it hurt 
 when she kissed me." 
 
 "Did she go away then?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And have you seen your mother since that 
 night?" 
 
 "No, no! And I want to see her," said the 
 child, sobbing afresh. 
 
 "Do you know where she is?" 
 
DORIS CREATES A SENSATION 187 
 
 "No, no. Please tell me. I want to see her. 
 I want to see her. Daddy dear," she left her 
 chair and started down the steps of the witness 
 stand, "why did you make my mamma cry and 
 run away from me*?" 
 
 I caught her in my arms, and turned and faced 
 the Court. 
 
 "That's the child's story, Your Honour!" 
 
 "For God's sake, you're torturing my little 
 baby!" cried Strickland, unable to contain him- 
 self any longer. 
 
 "I move that the child's testimony be stricken 
 out," said the District Attorney stormily. 
 
 "Mr. Strickland, silence !" The Judge rapped 
 with his gavel. 
 
 "You're torturing my little girl!" repeated 
 Strickland wildly. 
 
 And so ended the first day of the trial. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE 
 
 THE strain had been greater than I realised. 
 After leaving the court, I went over to the little 
 suite of offices which I have always kept, more 
 as a matter of form in order to have a business 
 address than for any real necessity, and throwing 
 myself down on the couch which stands in the 
 smaller, or "private" office, slept heavily for more 
 than an hour. 
 
 When I awoke with that heavy feeling that I 
 always have upon the rare occasions when I at- 
 tempt to sleep in the daytime, I found that it 
 lacked but a few moments till my dinner hour. 
 I could not possibly arrive home on time. As 
 punctuality is a thing I have always insisted upon 
 in regulating my house, particularly in regard to 
 the hours for meals, I decided that, rather than 
 arrive even a few minutes late, I would send word 
 that I was detained down town. 
 
 Accordingly I telephoned McLean to that effect, 
 188 
 
A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE 189 
 
 and prepared to go out to some neighbouring 
 restaurant for my dinner. I felt curiously re- 
 lieved once I had come to this decision. It was 
 only while I was combing my hair before the little 
 mirror in the wash-room that I succeeded in an- 
 alysing the feeling of reluctance that I had for 
 going home. It was McLean I dreaded to meet. 
 
 By this time he would have devoured every 
 word in the evening papers on the subject of the 
 trial. And while, of course, he would never 
 broach the subject himself, he would know how to 
 make his reticence as eloquent as an interrogation 
 point endowed with life! I could feel the ques- 
 tion in his eyes fastened on my back as he stood 
 behind my chair. And in my present mood, I 
 felt that that was more than I could bear. After 
 I had had my dinner, and had recovered from the 
 effects of my nap, I would feel differently. I had 
 no intention of staying down town late. I had 
 too much to do on the morrow. 
 
 As I stepped out into the street, my ears were 
 assailed by the raucous cries of the newsboys, 
 hawking their wares. 
 
 "Wexta, wexta ! All about the Robert Strick- 
 
190 ON TRIAL 
 
 land case ! Child of accused man on stand !" and 
 so forth, and so forth. 
 
 I would have liked to put my hands over my 
 
 ears! 
 
 At the door of the restaurant where I always go 
 upon the rare occasions when I eat down town 
 for the reason that the proprietor was formerly 
 the steward of my club, and I am always sure of 
 particular attention I was suddenly seized with 
 a sort of nervous panic. If I went in there, where 
 there were sure to be a number of people who 
 would know of my connection with the Strick- 
 land case, they would certainly want to talk about 
 it. I might just as well dine at home under Mc- 
 Lean's accusing and reproachful eye. I turned 
 and fled. 
 
 I think I must have walked a mile before I 
 found anything that attracted me. Several times 
 I was on the point of entering places when my eye 
 would fall upon some one sitting at a table who 
 resembled some one I know. That was enough. 
 Positively I was getting morbid on the subject of 
 avoiding my acquaintances. I fully realised that 
 it was a matter of tired nerves, and therefore made 
 
A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE 191 
 
 no attempt to combat my impulse for seclusion as 
 I would otherwise have done. 
 
 At length, I woke up to the appreciation that I 
 was both hungry and physically tired. I formed 
 the childish resolution of going into the third 
 restaurant I came to no matter how unattractive 
 it might appear. Fortune was better to me than 
 I deserved. The third restaurant proved to be a 
 clean, albeit modest, affair somewhat on the order 
 of a bakery. 
 
 The dishes listed on the bill-of-fare were of the 
 simple and wholesome variety. I found no diffi- 
 culty in making a selection that appealed to me. 
 Moreover, when they arrived, they proved to be 
 well cooked, and neatly served by a pleasant-faced 
 woman who looked as if she might have been of 
 German origin. 
 
 However, if I hoped to escape hearing of the 
 Strickland case, I was doomed to disappointment. 
 Whether the few people in 'the restaurant were 
 friends or acquaintances, I, naturally, had no 
 means of knowing. But, in any case, they dis- 
 cussed the case from table to table with an ex- 
 traordinary fervour. In the three quarters of an 
 
192 ON TRIAL 
 
 hour which I took for the consummation of my 
 dinner, I certainly listened to some remarkable 
 theories, many of which would have aroused the 
 ire of McLean. 
 
 As far as I could gather, popular sympathy was 
 about equally divided between the widow of Ger- 
 ald Trask and Strickland. To my unbounded 
 astonishment, Trask's reputation for philandering 
 seemed to be quite as well known to the patrons 
 of this obscure little restaurant as it was in the 
 circles in which he had moved during his lifetime. 
 I found food for thought in the discovery. 
 
 Another curious thing was that, without excep- 
 tion, it was the women that hoped that Strick- 
 land might get off. The men, while free to con- 
 fess that in the light of the day's revelations, he 
 had done what any man might naturally do in 
 the circumstances, seemed to be in favour of his 
 paying the penalty of his act. While they did 
 not phrase it that way, I gathered that they felt 
 it would be a bad thing for public morals gener- 
 ally, if he were to go free, or even if he were to 
 escape with a term of imprisonment. 
 
 Opinion was divided on the subject of Doris 
 
A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE 193 
 
 having been put on the stand. It was flattering 
 to learn that it was one of the shrewdest tricks 
 that any lawyer had "gotten away with" I think 
 I have the phrase correctly for a very long time. 
 The only thing that seemed to be at all compar- 
 able with it, in the mind of one of my critics, was 
 a piece of sharp practice lately indulged in by one 
 of the most disreputable and notorious persons 
 who ever brought the practice of law into dis- 
 repute. I may add that he was disbarred shortly 
 after the same brilliant achievement. 
 
 But the preponderance of the opinion was in 
 our favour. Doris was declared to be a fine, 
 brave child. (As indeed she was.) And I came 
 in for some praise for the bold tactics I had 
 adopted, and the skill I had displayed in building 
 up a case out of so little promising material. 
 
 I left the restaurant to find to my surprise that I 
 had lingered there nearly twice as long as I had 
 intended. With the hope that the exercise might 
 remove the last traces of sluggishness from my 
 brain for I had still much to do before I slept 
 I decided to walk home, taking it slowly and easily 
 so as not to tire myself unnecessarily. 
 
194 ON TRIAL 
 
 As I went up the steps, I looked at my watch. 
 Ten o'clock ! I had intended being home long be- 
 fore. I had just taken my key out of my pocket, 
 when McLean opened the door. 
 
 "What has happened?" I cried, after one look 
 at his face. 
 
 "It's Mrs. Strickland, sir." 
 
 "Mrs. Strickland ! Good Heavens, let me see. 
 I haven't read a paper." 
 
 I pointed to the pile of evening papers on the 
 stand. 
 
 "There's nothing about her in the papers. 
 She's here." 
 
 "Here ! McLean, have you taken leave of your 
 senses?" 
 
 "Mayhap I have," he said stubbornly. "But 
 I still had them when I showed her up to the 
 library." 
 
 "The library?" I echoed stupidly. 
 
 "Yes, sir. I took her up there on account of 
 the big couch. She was hardly able to stand. 
 There's a hospital nurse with her." 
 
 I could only lean weakly against the hat-stand, 
 and stare at him. If my life had depended on my 
 
A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE 195 
 
 doing anything for the next few seconds, it would 
 have been forfeited. 
 
 "Tell me about it," I managed finally. 
 
 "There's nothing to tell. The bell rang. I 
 went to the door. Taxi standing in front of the 
 house. Chauffeur wanting to know if Mr. Mal- 
 colm Arbuckle lived here. When he finds out, 
 goes back to taxi. He and nurse help a lady out 
 and up the steps. She says she's Mrs. Robert 
 Strickland. When she finds you're not in, says 
 she'll wait. Nurse stays with her." 
 
 "McLean," I said, "go up and tell them that 
 I have returned, and that I will see them inside of 
 five minutes. And then come back and give me 
 a high ball. I'll be in the dining-room." 
 
 And in the dining-room he found me on his re- 
 turn, sitting in the darkness. I hadn't the 
 strength to turn on the lights. 
 
 The nurse met me outside of the door. 
 
 "I must explain before you see her," she began 
 in quite her professional manner, "that Mrs. 
 Strickland has been lying at the point of death 
 ever since the the " 
 
 "The night of the murder," I finished for her, 
 
196 ON TRIAL 
 
 seeing that she seemed to have difficulty in getting 
 out the word, 
 
 "Exactly. She has had brain fever. Only 
 a few days ago, she was still delirious the 
 greater part of the time. She was to have 
 been allowed to sit up for the first time to-mor- 
 
 row." 
 
 "And she's here? Now?' 
 
 "She's here, now." 
 
 It was too much for me. I could only shake 
 my head in silent protest against these two irrecon- 
 cilable statements. 
 
 "And what possessed her to come here? If she 
 has been ill as you say, how could she have kept 
 track of things? How, for example, did she 
 know that I was defending her husband?" 
 
 "It all came about through a lapse in discipline 
 on the part of two of the nurses," she said 
 severely. "They had read about the little girl, 
 you know, in the evening papers. And supposing 
 that Mrs. Strickland was asleep because she was 
 lying there with her eyes closed, they were talk- 
 ing it over in a corner of the Ward. 
 
 "But Mrs. Strickland wasn't asleep. She heard 
 
A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE 197 
 
 every word they said. She opened her eyes and 
 asked them several questions about it. And then 
 she suddenly sat up in her bed she that hadn't 
 had the strength to hardly turn herself for weeks 
 and insisted upon seeing the doctor. 
 
 "When he came to see what was wanted, she 
 told him that the name she had given us, May 
 Deane, was her maiden name. That she was 
 really Mrs. Robert Strickland and that the little 
 girl they had been talking about was her child, and 
 that the man on trial was her husband. 
 
 "She insisted upon coming to -see you, and she 
 says she's going to the court to-morrow, and that 
 what she has to tell will free her husband. There 
 was nothing to do but let her. And the doctor 
 gave me my orders to come with her." 
 
 "But she can't go to court until I hear what she 
 is willing to testify to." 
 
 "That's what she's come for; to tell you her 
 story." 
 
 "And you mean to tell me that a woman as 
 sick as you say she has been has had the strength 
 to do all this?' 
 
 "It would seem so." 
 
198 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Well, all I can say is that I don't understand 
 it." 
 
 "I guess you don't understand much about 
 women," said the nurse dryly. 
 
 There seemed to be nothing further to say on 
 that head. 
 
 "Shall we go on in, or do you wish to tell her 
 that I am here?' 
 
 "I will just go in and speak to her first. You 
 must remember that she is very weak. She may 
 not be able to tell her story very connectedly. But 
 you will be patient with her I am sure. Will 
 you wait a moment*?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 It seemed only a second until she was back. 
 Holding the door open for me, she signed for me 
 to go in ahead of her. 
 
 It was curious how the whole room seemed 
 strange and unfamiliar. And yet nothing had 
 been changed in any way. I could not see that 
 even a chair had been displaced. Was it the mere 
 presence of a hospital nurse in her severely plain 
 uniform that made the difference? The room 
 seemed also unaccountably dim. But I soon saw 
 
A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE 199 
 
 that it was owing to the fact that the nurse had 
 improvised a screen for my reading lamp to keep 
 the light from the eyes of the woman on the couch. 
 
 And then I saw her. I had thought that I had 
 seen the worst that grief could do when I had seen 
 how suffering had stamped the face of Strickland. 
 But I had not then seen his wife. For a moment 
 my heart seemed to have stopped beating. It 
 did not seem possible that she could be alive. I 
 found myself vainly searching that ghastly face, 
 emaciated to an unbelievable degree and of an 
 incomparable pallor, for any resemblance to the 
 pictured face I had carried about with me for 
 days, and finding none. Only her eyes were 
 alive. All there was of life was concentrated in 
 them. 
 
 Mechanically I took the chair which the nurse 
 silently placed beside the couch. I recalled after- 
 wards that I never thought of any of the conven- 
 tional formalities. It never occurred to me, for 
 example, to introduce myself. Nor was I con- 
 scious of wishing to say anything. How long I 
 sat, silently meeting the steady glow of those burn- 
 ing eyes, I have not the least idea. 
 
200 ON TRIAL 
 
 It was she who eventually broke the silence, if 
 the silence could be said to be broken by the faint 
 whisper which was her voice. 
 
 "Robert; how does he bear it?" 
 
 "He is wonderful," I said. 
 
 "And my baby? Where is she?" 
 
 "She is at her aunt's." 
 
 "At Helen's; I am glad of that. She was 
 there to-day." 
 
 "Yes. I made it as easy for her as I could." 
 
 "She is brave, like him." 
 
 The nurse went over to the corner of the room. 
 My eyes had by now accustomed themselves to the 
 semi-darkness, and I saw that there were some 
 medicines and glasses standing on the etagere. 
 The nurse gave her something to drink out of one 
 of them. 
 
 "Will you come a little closer, please? I 
 haven't quite got my strength yet, and I must 
 save my voice for to-morrow. I want to tell you 
 my story." 
 
 Save herself for to-morrow! I glanced up at 
 the nurse. My face must have expressed my in- 
 credulity. I moved up closer to the woman on 
 
A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE 201 
 
 the couch, and bent over her that I might catch 
 her faintest word. 
 
 I am not going to attempt to tell the story as 
 she told it to me then. It came brokenly and 
 haltingly from her lips. There were times when 
 she was obliged to stop and rest. There were 
 times when, at a sign from the nurse, I begged 
 her to do so, or made an excuse to get up and pace 
 the floor. Although I did not realise it at the 
 time, I was sitting in a cramped position. But 
 the next day, and for several days afterwards, my 
 back was sore and lame. 
 
 But it was only in the manner of the telling, 
 that the story halted. In itself, it was singularly 
 clear and direct; at least, all that part of it that 
 had to do with her first meeting with Gerald 
 Trask. When it came to the events of the night 
 of the murder, their sequence seemed to be indis- 
 tinct in her mind. I was frequently obliged to 
 stop her, and put some question when some state- 
 ment that she made seemed to me to be obscure, 
 or when it failed to tally with the account I had 
 had from Doris. 
 
 It was nearly midnight, when acting on the 
 
202 ON TRIAL 
 
 nurse's suggestion, I withdrew for an hour to give 
 Mrs. Strickland an opportunity to rest. At the 
 door, we had another brief conference. 
 
 "Of course, it is madness to think of her at- 
 tempting to appear in court to-morrow." 
 
 "I think she will find strength to go." 
 
 "It doesn't look as if she could possibly find 
 the strength to do it." 
 
 "It doesn't look as if she could possibly find 
 the strength to stay away." 
 
 Again I felt that 1 was being snubbed. 
 
 When I returned shortly after one, it was to 
 find that the short hour's rest had worked a really 
 remarkable change. The nurse informed me that 
 her patient had slept nearly the whole time. No 
 doubt the relief she drew from having taken the 
 first step to save her husband contributed largely 
 to her improvement. Certainly, her voice was 
 noticeably stronger, and I even thought that her 
 face appeared less waxen. 
 
 The dawn was finding its way through the 
 drawn shades, when we had finished. I had or- 
 dered a room prepared for Mrs. Strickland and 
 the nurse which was on the same floor with the 
 
A RETURN FROM THE GRAVE 203 
 
 library. Having assisted her as far as the door, 
 I left her to take a much-needed rest. It was 
 arranged that she would be ready to go with me 
 to the court a little before ten. 
 
 The part of her story which was entirely new 
 to me, I will tell later as she herself told it on 
 the witness stand. I can only say that it changed 
 entirely the aspect of the case. 
 
 But that part of it which dealt with the night 
 of June 24th, and her wanderings after she left 
 her house, belongs here. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 
 
 As I already knew, she had sent her child to pass 
 the day with her sister. It was not an unusual 
 thing for her to have done. Frequently, when 
 she had any great amount of shopping to do, or 
 when, upon rare occasions, she and her husband 
 were able to plan some little outing together for 
 in spite of the years that had gone by since their 
 marriage, they were lovers still, and embraced all 
 opportunities that offered to take long walks in 
 the country where they could be quite by them- 
 selves Bertha would be told that she could take 
 Miss Doris up to her aunt's and then have the 
 rest of the day to herself. 
 
 They did not always go to the country. Some- 
 times they would "do" a museum instead, or even 
 go to a theatre, pretending that they were a coun- 
 try bride and groom off on their honeymoon in 
 
 the great city. They would finish the day with 
 
 204 
 
AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 205 
 
 dinner at some restaurant, or go home and have 
 a picnic supper which they would get themselves. 
 
 It was from intimate little touches like this 
 which frequently came out in her story that I 
 saw how happy they had been, and how united 
 they were. They had been selfishly absorbed in 
 each other, she acknowledged that. She even saw 
 comparatively little of her only living sister; but 
 there were other reasons for that besides her de- 
 votion to her husband. 
 
 The sisters had never had a quarrel in their 
 lives. But about one thing, they had finally 
 agreed to disagree. Mrs. Strickland's resolution 
 to keep from her husband the knowledge of a 
 tragedy which had shadowed her youth, did not 
 meet with the elder woman's approval. 
 
 As they were both women of unusual force of 
 character, neither would give way in the matter. 
 And while long ago they had mutually resolved 
 never to re-open the subject, it was ever present 
 in the mind of each when they were together, and 
 gradually raised up a certain barrier between 
 them. 
 
 Another subject upon which they were com- 
 
206 ON TRIAL 
 
 pletely out of sympathy, and which, also, was 
 never alluded to, was Mrs. Stanwood's only child, 
 a young man in the early twenties who, according 
 to Mrs. Strickland, was about as worthless as he 
 well could be. 
 
 Spoiled and indulged all through his childhood 
 by his widowed mother even so strong a woman 
 as Mrs. Stanwood has her weak point, and this 
 child was her's his idle and dissipated habits 
 made him a constant drain upon her modest re- 
 sources, as well as a continued ground for anxiety. 
 Mrs. Strickland confessed that she could never 
 even think of him without irritation; attributing, 
 as she did, her sister's ill-health entirely to worry 
 on his account. 
 
 I do not mean to convey the idea that she told 
 me all these things in the form in which I am 
 relating them. She was, most probably on ac- 
 count of her weakness, continually halting her 
 narrative for the purpose of going back to pick 
 up some forgotten thread, or to cite some instance 
 or anecdote which in her judgment might serve 
 the purpose of illumination. 
 
 It was as if she had wished to paint for me in 
 
AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 207 
 
 words a picture of their happiness up to the time 
 when her husband left on that last, and as it was 
 to turn out, fatal visit to the West. If that were 
 her purpose she certainly succeeded. 
 
 I have rarely if ever in my life encountered a 
 family so absolutely united as the family of Rob- 
 ert Strickland seemed to have been. They per- 
 haps laid themselves open to criticism on the 
 ground that they were too self-centred. They 
 had few if any interests outside of their home, 
 each other, and their child. 
 
 Strickland was one of the most domestic of 
 men. And like most men of his type he might be 
 said to have been almost dependent upon his wife 
 in many little ways. At all events, she it was 
 who screened and protected him from all the little 
 petty annoyances which assail the average man 
 every day of his life. He had no secrets from 
 her. She encouraged him to talk of his business. 
 And, since she was a woman of unusual intelli- 
 gence, it was not long before she had made herself 
 mistress of the smallest detail of his affairs. 
 
 She assured me, and I had no reason to doubt 
 her word or to think that she was self-deceived in 
 
2o8 ON TRIAL 
 
 the matter, that her husband never embarked upon 
 any enterprise, or took any momentous step with- 
 out first talking the whole matter over with her. 
 And it was the rarest thing in the world for him 
 to act contrary to her advice. 
 
 As the years flowed on thus smoothly, the terror 
 that ever lurked in the deep recesses of her mind 
 and heart gradually became less and less of a 
 menace to her new found security and happiness. 
 Not that she was not constantly on her guard. 
 And the strain of this unceasing vigil was bound 
 to tell upon a nervous system as highly organised 
 as hers. 
 
 There were times when, without any real cause, 
 it would rear its unlovely head. There were 
 whole days when she gave herself up to despair. 
 But however much she suffered, when her hus- 
 band returned at night, he always found her the 
 gay and cheerful companion that he had always 
 known; ready to enter into his mood whatever it 
 might be. 
 
 She had fought the whole question out with her- 
 self before she had consented to marry him. In 
 the end, she had decided and in coming to this 
 
AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 209 
 
 conclusion, she had been largely influenced by the 
 consciousness that, beyond the fact that she had 
 cruelly deceived an indulgent and loving parent 
 she had been guilty of no wrongdoing that the 
 happiness and peace of mind of the man she loved 
 would be shattered by the revelation which she 
 would have to make if she took him completely 
 into her confidence. 
 
 It was characteristic of her that, having once 
 made a decision, she should never waver from it. 
 A thing once settled, was settled for all time. 
 Knowing her husband's domestic tastes, and how 
 little he cared for society, she had made it the 
 business to make his home so attractive that he 
 rarely, if ever, wished to spend his time elsewhere. 
 
 Once only in all their married life up to the 
 time when he was forced to make several journeys 
 to the West to arrange the details of his new 
 business venture, had they been separated. That 
 was the time shortly before Doris was born. The 
 years of strain to which she had subjected herself 
 combined with her condition at that time had so 
 worked upon her overwrought imagination that 
 she became positively obsessed with the idea that. 
 
210 ON TRIAL 
 
 she could not longer guard her precious secret un- 
 less she went away. 
 
 She had left a letter for her husband telling 
 him that she was going away for a week, and beg- 
 ging him not to attempt to find her and follow 
 her. This done, she had gone to the people who 
 long ago had helped nurse her through a long and 
 terrible illness. They were old friends of her 
 family and had known of her earlier trouble. 
 She had arrived at the point when she felt that she 
 must have some one in whom to confide her fears, 
 and who would be wholly sympathetic as her sis- 
 ter, in the circumstances, could not be. 
 
 Strickland had been nearly mad with anxiety 
 when he found her letter. He had rushed 
 away to Mrs. Stanwood, who had at once sus- 
 pected the truth. Telling him that there was no 
 real cause for alarm, and that she was sure she 
 would have news for him within a few hours 
 she had to this extent lent herself to the deception 
 of which she so strongly disapproved she had 
 started at once for the little country place which 
 had before proved a real asylum to the af- 
 flicted woman. At the end of a week she had sue- 
 
AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 211 
 
 ceeded in persuading the unhappy woman to re- 
 turn, and had managed to allay her fears that 
 there was any greater possibility of her betraying 
 herself than there would have been in ordinary 
 circumstances. 
 
 With the birth of her child, Mrs. Strickland's 
 happiness had seemed well-nigh complete. She 
 had longed to bear a son, but her husband's de- 
 light that the child was a girl, coupled with the 
 fact that the baby so strongly resembled her fa- 
 ther, had mitigated her first disappointment. 
 
 For nearly nine years, they had known more 
 happiness than falls to the lot of most mortals. 
 She had even begun to delude herself that the 
 spectre that had so long haunted her days was 
 laid forever. And then one night at dinner, quite 
 casually, he told her of having met Gerald Trask, 
 the rich banker. 
 
 The very unexpectedness of the blow made it 
 fall all the more heavily. She was never able to 
 recall any detail of their conversation during the 
 rest of the dinner. The old terror had hold on 
 her. Mechanically she got through the rest of the 
 meal in some fashion. With perfect truth she 
 
ON TRIAL 
 
 was able to plead a "splitting headache" as an 
 excuse for going immediately to bed. 
 
 All night long she had lain wide-eyed and sleep- 
 less by his side. He was an impulsive man of 
 strong likes and dislikes. He had spoken of Trask 
 with even more than his usual enthusiasm, ex- 
 pressing the hope that he might see more of him. 
 How was she to prevent this without arousing his 
 suspicion*? Towards morning, overcome with 
 weariness, she had a new terror to combat. What 
 if she should fall asleep and in the overwrought 
 state of her mind say something to betray herself? 
 At intervals she arose to bathe her face in cold 
 water in order to keep awake. 
 
 Her appearance the next morning after this 
 exhausting vigil had been such as to alarm him. 
 But she had quieted his fears by attributing it 
 to the severity and duration of her headache. 
 But she was to know no more peace after that 
 night. 
 
 She had gone out the next day shortly after he 
 left the house saying that she would not be back 
 to luncheon. She passed the entire day in Cen- 
 tral Park sitting on a bench, staring with unseeing 
 
AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 213 
 
 eyes over the grassy lawns, planning, scheming, 
 contriving some way to ward off the threatened 
 danger. For now she had the happiness and se- 
 curity of two people to fight for her child, and 
 her husband. 
 
 And with it all was the new and overmastering 
 dread that she no longer possessed the strength to 
 fight any more. The long strain had told on her 
 too much. What if she should break down at 
 this, the eleventh hour ! She tried to tell herself 
 that she was exaggerating her danger. This 
 casual meeting might never lead to anything. 
 The very fact that her husband and Gerald Trask 
 moved in different worlds, and had so little in 
 common would seem to make any prospect of their 
 ever growing intimate sufficiently remote. To be 
 sure there was her husband's avowed intention to 
 follow up the acquaintance. She never remem- 
 bered to have seen him quite so enthusiastic over 
 meeting any one before. 
 
 It was singular, this sudden liking. She had 
 heard somewhere that Gerald Trask was not a 
 man's man. That he never took any pains to dis- 
 guise the fact that men, as a rule, did not interest 
 
214 O N TRIAL 
 
 him. And yet he must have gone out of his way 
 to have interested Robert so greatly. 
 
 And then a sudden, terrifying thought struck 
 her. Did he know? Was there something sinis- 
 ter behind it all? Did he know that she was 
 Robert Strickland's wife 4 ? Did he know*? Did 
 he know ? Did he know? It would be like him 
 to revenge himself upon her in this fashion, to 
 punish her after all these years ! 
 
 She reached home just before dinner in a more 
 exhausted state than when she had left it. She 
 had not even thought of food during the entire 
 day. Fortunately he was unusually late, so that 
 she had been able to make some slight change in 
 her toilette before he returned. 
 
 He was in wonderfully high spirits. What did 
 she suppose he had been doing all afternoon? 
 Playing truant like the veriest schoolboy. And 
 where, and with whom, did she suppose he had 
 gone? She braced herself for the answer that 
 she knew was coming. He had gone to a ball 
 game with Gerald Trask. 
 
 She had managed a look of smiling indulgence 
 for this peccadillo. "Why had he not told her 
 
AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 215 
 
 of this pleasant plan at breakfast*?" Plan? 
 There had been no plan about it. By the merest 
 chance, he had bumped into Trask on returning 
 from lunch. He, it seemed, was with his brother- 
 in-law, whose home was in Chicago. They had 
 made a bet on the ball game and were going up 
 to see it. Why did not Strickland join them? 
 There was no real reason why he shouldn't. So 
 he had telephoned the office and had joined 
 them. 
 
 And, by the way, wasn't it her turn to give an 
 account of her day? He had telephoned the 
 house at the same time to say that he might be a 
 little late for dinner. And in place of hearing 
 the voice of his dutiful wife, as he had expected, 
 it was the maid who had replied. And what was 
 more, she had said that her mistress had left the 
 house right after breakfast, leaving word that she 
 couldn't say just when she would be back. 
 
 She explained that she had gone up to the 
 Park to see if the air might not do her good after 
 her indisposition of yesterday. At once he was 
 all remorse. Here he had been enjoying himself 
 like a perfect kid and she had been having a 
 
2i6 ON TRIAL 
 
 miserable time of it. But he had missed her, just 
 the same. He had kept wishing that she was 
 along. She must meet Trask. She would be 
 sure to like him. He was married, too. Perhaps, 
 a little later on, it would come about that the two 
 wives would meet. If Mrs. Trask was half as 
 good a fellow as her husband, their acquaintance 
 would be a great acquisition for them both. 
 
 All evening long he could talk of nothing else 
 but his new friend and the fine time he had had. 
 It may be imagined what tortures the unhappy 
 woman was compelled to endure with a smiling 
 face. 
 
 Realising that she must obtain a little rest, her 
 fear of betraying herself while asleep augmented 
 rather than allayed, she had that night for the 
 first time in all their married life occupied a sepa- 
 rate room. Indeed she continued to do so for 
 several weeks, on the ground that she was not 
 feeling herself and that she was too nervous to 
 sleep quietly and would only disturb him. 
 
 At the end of that time, she was a little less 
 fearful, or perhaps she had become more accus- 
 tomed to the weight of her old burden. At any 
 
 
AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 217 
 
 rate, she felt that she had herself once more in 
 hand. 
 
 Then, too, she learned, with what relief may be 
 imagined, that Trask had gone on an extended 
 tour through the West to inspect some mining 
 properties in which he had a large interest. She 
 had reached the stage now when every day that 
 she was without fear, was a day gained. 
 
 And then came her husband's business difficul- 
 ties. It is unnecessary to go into the matter in 
 this narrative. Suffice it to say that Strickland 
 became involved through no fault of his own. It 
 is certain that he was greatly worried. But to 
 her and she frequently reproached herself with 
 selfishness this new trial was a welcome relief. 
 It gave her occupation for her mind. No detail 
 of the complication was unknown to her. She 
 counselled and advised with him on every slight- 
 est step. 
 
 Then came the welcome offer from Cleveland. 
 It drove her almost delirious with joy. To her, 
 it spelled escape. But she could not fire her hus- 
 band with her own enthusiasm. It was an experi- 
 ment at best. And he did not feel that a man 
 
2i8 ON TRIAL 
 
 with a wife and child had the right to make ex- 
 periments. For the first time in her life, now 
 that she had so much at stake, she found that her 
 influence was not strong enough to over-ride his 
 opposition. 
 
 In vain she pointed out that poverty meant 
 nothing to her. The one thing in life that 
 counted was that they should be together. What 
 difference where it was"? What if they should 
 have to scrimp and save for a year or two? It 
 would give her the opportunity she had often 
 longed for; to show him what a thoroughly good 
 housewife she really was. But, no. His man's 
 pride took alarm at the idea of having to reduce 
 their scale of living. He would not hear of her 
 having to do her own work. In the first place 
 she was not strong enough for it. And then, how 
 it would look ! 
 
 Then there was another reason. If he accepted 
 the offer, he would have to go leaving debts be- 
 hind. Of course they could be paid off later, if 
 everything turned out as well as it promised. But, 
 just the same, he didn't like to go away and leave 
 them. With what he would be able to save from 
 
AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 219 
 
 the wreck of his business, and ten thousand dollars 
 more, he could face the world a free man with 
 enough of a surplus to give him heart for the new 
 venture. He went on to Cleveland to see if it 
 could be arranged. But the best he could do was 
 to obtain a promise that the money would be 
 forthcoming a little later. With the fulfilment 
 of this promise as a condition, he closed with the 
 Cleveland people, and their departure in a few 
 weeks' time seemed an assured fact. 
 
 In the meantime, Trask's return was the sig- 
 nal of a renewal of their intimacy. Marking 
 time, as he was more or less doing, Strickland had 
 more leisure for meeting his friend. Several 
 times he suggested their asking him to dinner. 
 But she always managed to make some excuse. 
 Finally, he one day playfully threatened to bring 
 him home some night unexpectedly to take "Pot 
 Luck" with them. 
 
 This was too much. It may be said to have 
 been the occasion of their first serious quarrel. 
 She became absolutely hysterical, and reproached 
 him bitterly with a lack of consideration. He 
 was both frightened and astonished at this out- 
 
220 ON TRIAL 
 
 burst, which, however, he fortunately attributed 
 to fatigue and nerves. 
 
 But she was to have a still narrower escape. 
 He was as determined as ever to bring about a 
 meeting between his wife and his friend. Chanc- 
 ing to meet Trask one day in the middle of the 
 afternoon not far from the house, he had insisted 
 on carrying him off home if only for a quarter of 
 an hour to meet the finest little woman in the 
 world. 
 
 As it happened she had been indoors all day 
 sewing on. some garments for the child. Seeing 
 that she was about to run short of some necessary 
 material, and wishing to finish the garment before 
 dinner time, she had slipped out herself to re- 
 plenish her supply of the desired article at a little 
 shop in the neighbourhood. She had just turned 
 the corner on her way back, when she saw her hus- 
 band and Gerald Trask going up the steps of the 
 apartment house. 
 
 She had darted into the hall-way of the apart- 
 ment across the street. From that safe shelter 
 she had watched her own house until she saw 
 Trask come out. She looked greedily to see what 
 
AN OMINOUS ENCOUNTER 221 
 
 changes time had written upon his face. She had 
 to confess to herself that he looked as he had al- 
 ways looked. 
 
 Having given the coloured hall-boy a half dol- 
 lar, which she rightly judged he would consider 
 the most satisfactory explanation for her visit, she 
 went across to her home. Curiously enough, she 
 regarded this narrow escape as a good omen. 
 
 But she was not to keep her faith in omens for 
 long. The next evening her husband told her 
 that he had come to an arrangement with Trask, 
 whereby Trask was to advance the necessary ten 
 thousand dollars, taking Strickland's note at thirty 
 days for the same. 
 
 "Robert, Robert, how could you without at 
 first telling me !" was all she could find to say. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE PRICE OF SAFETY 
 
 THAT was on the 22nd of May. 
 
 The effect of this new complication was light- 
 ened by the news that Trask had gone away on 
 another trip. Southward this time, to inspect 
 some railroads. Nevertheless, she saw May melt 
 into June, and June draw towards the important 
 22nd with a feeling of uneasiness and bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 Never had she known her husband to take a 
 business obligation with such seeming lightness. 
 Upon the several occasions when she had ques- 
 tioned him as to where he was to find funds to 
 meet the note, he had answered that the Cleve- 
 land people were sure to "come through" before 
 that; and if they didn't, Trask was too good a fel- 
 low to push things. 
 
 The truth of the matter was that he was se- 
 cretly considerably worried over the delay in get- 
 ting his Cleveland matters settled up. But think- 
 
 222 
 
THE PRICE OF SAFETY 223 
 
 ing that she had enough to contend with in 
 supervising all the many preparations for so im- 
 portant a move, he had made up his mind that, 
 come what might, she should not have the matter 
 of the meeting of the note added to her load. 
 (This, I may add, I learned later from the lips of 
 Strickland himself. But it seems only just that 
 I should mention it here.) 
 
 It is only natural that in the state of mind in 
 which Mrs. Strickland found herself, she should 
 have read all sorts of meanings into her husband's 
 unusual actions. Why should he count on any 
 special leniency in a man whose reputation for 
 hardness in business dealings was proverbial? 
 She could find no answer to the question. 
 
 Or again: was it not that Trask's evil influ- 
 ence and she knew that his influence could never 
 be anything but evil was acting on her husband 
 in a way to lead him to consult less with his wife 
 about business affairs? She knew there were men 
 who never took their wives into their confidence, 
 who deprecated women meddling with business, 
 as they described it. And Trask, she felt sure, 
 would be just the man to hold with such opinions. 
 
224 ON TRIAL 
 
 And while she was taxing her brain with these 
 and similar questions, the 22nd was drawing 
 nearer. 
 
 Whether it was on the nineteenth, or the twen- 
 tieth that Strickland decided suddenly to go again 
 to Cleveland, Mrs. Strickland could not recall. 
 The fact of her inability to do so seemed to worry 
 her greatly, but I assured her that in my opinion 
 it was of no great importance. If it turned out 
 that it should be, I had no doubt that the exact 
 date would come back to her at need. 
 
 As a matter of fact she was covering a great 
 deal of important ground in her own way, which 
 was just what I wanted. Providing always that 
 she was not deceiving herself in believing that she 
 would be able to be present at the trial the fol- 
 lowing day, I would know how to confine her re- 
 cital to the points I wanted. 
 
 At all events, on the spur of the moment, he 
 decided to go. When she ventured to remind him 
 that the note would fall due before the day he 
 was planning for his return, he lightly dismissed 
 the matter, saying he would drop Trask a line ex- 
 plaining that he had been unexpectedly called out 
 
THE PRICE OF SAFETY 225 
 
 of town, and would take up the note on his return, 
 which would not be later than the 24th. 
 
 There were one or two little matters that he 
 left for his wife to attend to. Among them, was 
 the question of the bids of two rival firms engaged 
 in the business of packing and moving household 
 furniture. In Strickland's judgment both bids 
 were too high. He had telephoned both of the 
 houses, making them a final offer. They had 
 promised to take the matter under advisement, 
 and let him know their decision immediately. If 
 they wrote him to the house, she was to open the 
 letters and decide the matter for herself. But, 
 for some reason or other, he fancied that their 
 representatives would be more likely to call in 
 person. 
 
 It was on the evening of the 22nd, while she 
 was lying down in her own room, that the maid 
 came to her to say that some one had called to 
 see Mr. Strickland. Before saying that he was 
 out of town, she had waited to consult her mistress. 
 
 If she had not believed that Gerald Trask was 
 still in the South, she might have sent the maid 
 back with a question as to his name and business. 
 
226 ON TRIAL 
 
 Even if she had remembered that it was the 22nd 
 and she confessed that the day of the month 
 was the thing furthest from her mind she might 
 have been more on her guard. 
 
 But as it was, she supposed that it was a man 
 from one of the two furniture houses. Sending 
 back word that Mr. Strickland was from home, 
 but that Mrs. Strickland would be with him in a 
 minute, she stopped only long enough to glance 
 in the mirror to see if she had disarranged her 
 hair in lying down, and went across the hall to 
 the little drawing-room. 
 
 And there, standing with his back to the man- 
 tel-piece, facing the door, stood Gerald Trask. 
 
 Of the two, he was the more astonished. Mrs. 
 Strickland never doubted that. He could never 
 have simulated such genuine amazement. She 
 had an impulse to fly to the shelter of her own 
 room and lock herself in, to shriek for the maid 
 to come to her assistance. But if her life had 
 depended upon it, she could not have called for 
 help, much less moved. 
 
 "By God! If it isn't little May Deane !" said 
 Gerald Trask. 
 
THE PRICE OF SAFETY 227 
 
 And then, while she watched him with terrified, 
 fascinated eyes, he suddenly began to laugh. It 
 was a dreadful laugh. For it was a laugh with- 
 out sound. He was so convulsed with silent mer- 
 riment that his face became crimson, his breath 
 came in great gasps, his body shook with this hor- 
 rible, silent mirth until perforce, he had to bury 
 his distorted face in his hands, turning his back 
 on her and resting his elbows on the mantel-piece 
 in front of him. When he turned to her again, 
 he was fumbling in his pocket to find his handker- 
 chief to wipe his streaming eyes. 
 
 And as she watched the progress of this horrible 
 paroxysm, whatever little spark of hope still 
 burned in her breast, flickered and died. Only a 
 beast incarnate could have laughed like that! 
 
 "One moment," she found herself saying. "I 
 wish to give my maid an order." 
 
 She went out to the kitchen, and told Bertha 
 to give the child her supper. She would let her 
 know when she was ready for her own dinner. 
 She would be engaged with her caller for some lit- 
 tle time. 
 
 When she returned, he was sitting very erect 
 
228 ON TRIAL 
 
 in the tall chair by the writing desk. At the sight 
 of her, he showed symptoms of a return of his 
 fearful mirth. But the look in her face checked 
 him. 
 
 "So you are the wife of my dear friend, Robert 
 Strickland?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I am Robert Strickland's wife. 
 What then?" 
 
 "What then?" he mocked. "I haven't decided 
 yet. But you must admit it's a stupendous joke." 
 
 "I fear I haven't your keen sense of humour," 
 she said icily. 
 
 And then she added: "What brings you here 
 to his house?" 
 
 She was affecting a courage she was far from 
 feeling. In another moment, she realised her mis- 
 take. An evil look which she remembered only 
 too well came into his eyes. 
 
 "It occurs to me that in the circumstances you 
 are treating yourself to a good many airs," he 
 sneered. 
 
 "In the circumstances?" 
 
 "Yes. Perhaps you do not know that I hold 
 
THE PRICE OF SAFETY 229 
 
 your husband's note for ten thousand dollars, and 
 that that note is due to-day?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I know all about it." 
 
 "No doubt he left the money with you, then." 
 
 "No. He left me no money. But he wrote 
 you that he had been called away, and that he 
 would return by the 24th and take up the note." 
 
 "I haven't been to the bank. As a matter of 
 fact, I just stepped off the train within the hour. 
 I was on my way home when I remembered about 
 the note. I little knew the delightful surprise 
 that was waiting for me." 
 
 He left his chair to cross over where he could 
 stand looking down at her. It seemed an eternity 
 before he spoke again. 
 
 "But having found this delightful surprise, I 
 have changed my mind in regard to the note. It 
 is to you that I will look for the payment." 
 
 "To me?" 
 
 "Yes; to you." 
 
 Again a long silence fell between them. 
 
 "I haven't forgotten the damnable scrape you 
 got me into once; the worst scrape I ever got into 
 
230 ON TRIAL 
 
 in all my life. And it was you and your damned 
 old father that got me into it!" 
 
 "Don't," she protested. "My poor father died 
 shortly afterwards. It killed him." 
 
 "I wish he'd died before ever I saw him," he 
 said brutally. "I tell you, it cost me a pretty 
 penny, and the worst of it is I haven't done pay- 
 ing yet. Every time my delightful wife and I 
 have a rumpus which is about once in six weeks, 
 or so she rakes the whole thing up again ; threat- 
 ens divorce, and all that sort of thing. Of course, 
 I can't let her do that. It might hurt me in a 
 business way. People are such fools ! So I have 
 to buy her off, one way or another. I swore years 
 ago that I would make you and your father pay 
 for it. But now it seems you must pay alone. I 
 always keep my word." 
 
 "You've changed, then." For the life of her, 
 she couldn't have kept back the words. 
 
 "Well, we'll let it go at that," he said. 
 
 Then he brutally told her how he would be 
 paid. She begged and implored him to spare her. 
 She actually went down on her knees to him. She 
 might as well have knelt to the fire-irons. 
 
THE PRICE OF SAFETY 231 
 
 He told her that he would ruin both her and 
 her husband, financially, as well as every other 
 way. He taunted her with the fact that her long 
 silence only made it all the easier for him. What 
 man would ever believe a woman who had de- 
 ceived him for years, as she had done her hus- 
 band? In her heart, she knew that he was right. 
 
 Before he left her, he went over to the writing- 
 desk and wrote down the address of his house in 
 Long Branch. She was to join him there the next 
 day. That was his price. 
 
 Flinging the paper, on which he had written the 
 address in her lap, he left her still sitting quietly 
 in her big chair. 
 
 Presently she got up and going over to the desk, 
 took from a drawer her little black velvet purse. 
 Mechanically, she opened it, and dropped the 
 paper inside. When she clicked it shut, the noise 
 hurt her head. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A WOMAN AT BAY 
 
 SHE had returned on the 4.17 train. 
 
 On the way down in the morning, she had 
 actually had a faint hope that he might only have 
 brought her down to frighten her. He couldn't 
 mean it, he couldn't! Such things didn't happen 
 outside of penny-dreadfuls. There were bounds 
 which even he would not dare to pass. He would 
 remember that she was a mother now. And even 
 if he were willing to dishonour his friend, he could 
 not ask her to disgrace her child. 
 
 She did not dare ask her way at the station. 
 She remembered vaguely that he had said that it 
 wasn't far. She waited until she was a whole 
 block away before she ventured to ask a boy driv- 
 ing a butcher cart. 
 
 Although she kept repeating to herself that it 
 was only a cruel hoax that this was his way of 
 paying her off for the trouble that he chose to 
 
 pretend she and her father had gotten him into 
 
 232 
 
A WOMAN AT BAY 233 
 
 years before, her knees were knocking so that she 
 could hardly go up the steps to the porch. 
 
 The return journey was a blank. She remem- 
 bered finding her way blindly back to the station, 
 and buying her ticket. Then some one had told 
 her that the train just pulling in was the one she 
 was to take. That was all. 
 
 In the same dazed way she must have engaged 
 a taxi. She had no recollection of doing so. All 
 she remembered was that she suddenly awoke to 
 a consciousness that the hall-boy at her own house 
 was holding open the door for her. She would 
 have gone on in without even turning her head, 
 had not the chauffeur reminded her that she had 
 not paid her fare. 
 
 She searched her little hand-bag for her purse 
 she remembered afterwards that it was open 
 but it wasn't there. It was stupid of her; she 
 certainly thought she had taken it with her in the 
 morning. Telling the boy to pay the fare for her, 
 and not to forget to give the chauffeur his tip, she 
 went on upstairs, not waiting for the elevator. 
 
 Doris had greeted her rapturously. She had 
 not seen her darling mamma since early that morn- 
 
234 ON TRIAL 
 
 ing. And there was a letter that had Cleveland 
 on it which had been waiting ever so long. 
 
 As she felt her child's lips on her own, she was 
 taken with a fit of shuddering. Fortunately 
 Doris was already running back to the kitchen to 
 tell Bertha that her mother had returned. 
 
 Her eye fell on her husband's letter lying on the 
 table before her. Doris was right. Cleveland 
 was certainly stamped on it. Cleveland? Oh, 
 yes; that was the place they had once thought of 
 going to were going to, before 
 
 She opened the letter and read it straight 
 through from end to end. It was not long. And 
 then she realised that she had taken in nothing 
 that she had read, but the one statement that he 
 would be home on the following day, but not in 
 time for dinner. 
 
 At this moment the child came back, dancing 
 along the hall. She told her the good news, and 
 at once she was besieged with questions as to when 
 they would go away, what the new house was like, 
 and whether or not Doris could take all her doll- 
 babies with her on the train. To them all, she 
 
A WOMAN AT BAY 235 
 
 said that she did not know. She would have to 
 wait until Daddy came. He would tell her. 
 
 And then she explained that Mamma had one 
 of her dreadful headaches, and didn't want any 
 dinner, not even a cup of tea. She was going to 
 bed. Bertha could give Doris her supper when- 
 ever it was ready. But she must be very quiet. 
 
 Once in her room, she tossed her hat and hand- 
 bag on a chair, and then went over and locked the 
 door. Without even taking off her shoes, she 
 threw herself on the bed, her face buried in the 
 pillows. And then, she let the storm sweep over 
 her. It had taken her child's innocent kiss to 
 bring her back to a realisation of what had hap- 
 pened ! 
 
 It was nearly morning when she got up and un- 
 dressed properly. She remembered to unlock her 
 door before getting into bed. When Bertha, 
 opening it ever so quietly, looked in on her at 
 breakfast time, she was still sleeping heavily. 
 
 All day she felt heavy and languid. Doris 
 was, of course, all excitement over her daddy's 
 home-coming. Yes, she could sit up to see him, 
 
236 ON TRIAL 
 
 but not for long. No, Mamma would not tell 
 him anything about her having passed her exami- 
 nations so well ; Doris should tell him that herself. 
 
 In the afternoon, while Bertha was taking the 
 child for her walk, she suddenly began to cry 
 again. But she reminded herself that her hus- 
 band was coming. She must stop crying and re- 
 move the traces of her tears. She had all her 
 life to cry in. She could cry every day when she 
 was alone. But now she must drive all thought 
 of it out of her mind. She must be gay and 
 cheerful, and try to interest herself in all the de- 
 tails of the new house he had written about. She 
 hoped it didn't have steps leading up to a porch. 
 
 And she must begin right now to school her- 
 self. She must be more on her guard than ever 
 before, until they should really get away from 
 New York and everything connected with it. Oh, 
 if they were only going still further! Far, far 
 away, to another country, another continent, even. 
 They could not go too far for her. 
 
 The first thing was to arrange in her mind what 
 she had been doing all the day before. Oh, yes; 
 
A WOMAN AT BAY 237 
 
 she had been shopping. How stupid of her to 
 forget that that was the reason she had given for 
 sending Doris up to her aunt's. 
 
 That reminded her that she must make a list 
 of things that had to be bought for Doris. She 
 might just as well make it out now while the 
 needed articles were fresh in her mind. She went 
 over to the little desk in the drawing-room. 
 
 The first thing her eye fell upon was a sheet of 
 writing paper torn across the middle. The sheet 
 upon which he had Good God ! That address 
 in his writing was still in her purse. She rushed 
 back to her room, forgetting her list. 
 
 Her hand-bag was still lying on the chair where 
 she had tossed it when she came in the evening 
 before. She plunged her hand into its depths, 
 searching for her purse, her little black velvet 
 purse with the gold clasp. It must be there. 
 She turned out the contents of the hand-bag into 
 her lap. But there was no sign of the purse. 
 
 She sprang to her feet, and began pacing up 
 and down the room, her fingers pressed against her 
 temples. She was going to be perfectly calm 
 
238 ON TRIAL 
 
 about it. She was not going to let herself get ex- 
 cited. She must go back, step by step, until she 
 could recall when she had had her purse last. 
 
 She had driven up from the station in a taxi. 
 She remembered telling the boy downstairs to pay 
 the fare for her. And she had told him to, be- 
 cause she had missed her purse then. Now she 
 remembered that her hand-bag was open when she 
 got out of the cab. The purse must have fallen 
 out. But where? Where*? When had she seen 
 it last? Wait a minute. Now she had it, of 
 course. When she was buying her ticket in the 
 station at Long Branch. She must have dropped 
 it then. She would telephone to the Station Mas- 
 ter. That was the thing to do. 
 
 She was a long time getting him. It seemed as 
 if everybody in the country had been inspired with 
 the same desire to talk with the Station Master 
 at Long Branch. When she did finally succeed, 
 the result was not very satisfactory. 
 
 "Hello! Hello! Is this the Station Master 
 at Long Branch? 
 
 "This is Mrs. Robert Strickland of New York 
 City speaking. Yes; Mrs. Robert Strickland. 
 
A WOMAN AT BAY 239 
 
 S-t-r-i-c-k-1-a-n-d. That's right. Have you 
 found a purse belonging to me? Describe it? 
 Very well. A small black velvet You say 
 you haven't found any purse. Oh, this isn't the 
 Station Master? Well, when will he be there? 
 Very well; I'll call up later." 
 
 A quarter of an hour later, she called up again. 
 This time she found the man she was asking for, 
 but he had seen or heard nothing of her purse, 
 which she told him contained about forty dollars 
 in money and several of her cards. He referred 
 her to the Lost Articles Clerk at the station in 
 Jersey City. 
 
 In the meantime she had another idea. She 
 might have lost it in the taxi. Calling up the 
 hall boy she asked him if he could tell her to 
 which company the cab belonged in which she had 
 come home the day before. But a different boy 
 was on duty. The other one would not be back 
 until after six o'clock. 
 
 Bertha and Doris returning just then, put a stop 
 to any further attempts for the time being. The 
 excitement and worry had brought back her 
 wretched headache. Having told Bertha to 
 
240 ON TRIAL 
 
 darken her room, she went again to lie down for 
 a while. 
 
 She must have fallen asleep, for when she 
 looked at her watch, it was nearly time for her 
 husband to be there. She must try to get the Jer- 
 sey City man before he returned. Doris was not 
 in the drawing-room. Probably she was out in 
 the kitchen talking with Bertha. 
 
 This time she did not have to wait. The line 
 was free. She told all the particulars of her loss, 
 described the purse and its contents, laying par- 
 ticular stress that it held some extremely impor- 
 tant memoranda, and wound up with saying that 
 she thought that she had lost it at the station at 
 Long Branch. 
 
 As she hung up the receiver, she screamed with 
 fright. Doris was standing at her elbow. The 
 child laughed merrily. To have so startled her 
 mother seemed to her the greatest kind of a joke. 
 After a second, she was able to join in her laugh- 
 ter; at least the counterfeit was sufficiently good 
 to deceive the child. 
 
 And then she explained that on no account 
 must Daddy be told of the loss of the purse. It 
 
A WOMAN AT BAY 241 
 
 would only worry him, and do no good. The 
 child promised, but one could see that she was 
 puzzling her little head with some other question. 
 Finally it came out. How could her mother have 
 been at Long Branch when she had been shopping 
 all day? 
 
 She hadn't. It was a friend of hers to whom 
 she had lent the purse, who had lost it at Long 
 Branch. She found herself almost stammering 
 over this lie. She must learn to do better. She 
 might have to tell dozens hundreds before she 
 was through with it. 
 
 And then she heard the dearest voice in all the 
 world out in the hall saying: "Hello, Bertha, 
 how are you?" 
 
 In another moment she was in his arms. 
 
 Presently she discovered that he hadn't had his 
 dinner after all. Doris had had hers especially 
 early, and she, herself, had been contented with a 
 cup of tea. For the last two days, food had 
 choked her. She went out to the kitchen to super- 
 intend the getting of some sort of a lunch for him. 
 While she was in the pantry the door bell rang. 
 She heard Bertha go to answer it, but she was too 
 
242 ON TRIAL 
 
 busily occupied with her own thoughts to remem- 
 ber to ask her who it had been. 
 
 Just as she had completed her preparations, 
 Doris came running into the kitchen. 
 
 "Daddy says to tell you that Mr. Trask is here, 
 and that you're to come on in." 
 
 Strangely enough, this did not frighten her as 
 much as one might have supposed. Not that she 
 trusted Trask, or his word, but she had a moment's 
 clear vision which showed her that he had nothing 
 to gain by betraying her at this time. It was the 
 note he had come about. And her husband had 
 embraced this long desired opportunity to bring 
 about the meeting between them. That was all. 
 
 But at the mere sight of the man, her very flesh 
 revolted. If all she had fought for so long had 
 been at stake, she could not have spoken a word. 
 She acknowledged his presence with a cold bow. 
 
 Fortunately, he was just going. He should 
 have been home before. As a matter of fact, he 
 had been away since the night before. He had 
 only stopped a moment in accordance with his 
 friend's telegraphed request. So that was it. 
 Robert had sent him a telegram. He seemed in 
 

 White, New York. 
 
 And then had followed lies, and more lies, and then 
 
 more lies 
 
A WOMAN AT BAY 243 
 
 the best of humours, so the matter of the note must 
 have been satisfactorily arranged. 
 
 She took the opportunity, however, as Robert 
 was accompanying him to the door to whisper to 
 Doris : 
 
 "Doris, dear, was he Mr. Trask here long?" 
 
 Doris thought that he had been there an aw- 
 fully long time. They had talked and talked. 
 And Mr. Trask had asked Daddy to go fishing 
 Sunday down at Long Branch. 
 
 "Wouldn't it be funny if Mr. Trask found your 
 purse, Mamma?" she added. 
 
 Her husband coming in a moment later, and 
 Doris having been sent off to bed in spite of her 
 protests, Mrs. Strickland found her first oppor- 
 tunity to ask about the note. 
 
 For reply, her husband drew it from his pocket. 
 He had carefully torn off his signature from the 
 bottom. But it had been paid, actually paid. 
 The Cleveland people had kept their word nobly. 
 His debt was wiped out. But even while she was 
 listening to his account of his good fortune, and 
 how everything looked positively rose-coloured for 
 the future, she was saying to herself: 
 
244 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Then he couldn't have ruined him, after all !" 
 
 She betrayed the greatest eagerness to get away. 
 When did he think they could start? There was 
 no great hurry. He wasn't going to have her 
 tiring herself out rushing things. Suppose they 
 said two weeks. But she wouldn't need half that 
 time. He reminded her that there would be many 
 little purchases to make. She, for example, 
 would have to have a travelling dress. She would 
 get one ready-made. That reminded him that 
 Doris had said that her mamma had been shopping 
 all the day before, a report that she confirmed. 
 
 Just then the bell rang, and Bertha appeared a 
 moment later to say that a Mr. Burke wanted to 
 see Mrs. Strickland. 
 
 I told her then of my visit to Burke, and I 
 found that their two accounts agreed down to the 
 smallest particular. She found it hard to say just 
 why the mere sight of Burke's good-natured, 
 kindly face upset her so. Possibly it was because 
 she remembered seeing him at the station at Long 
 Branch and feared that his memory for faces 
 might be as good as hers. As a matter of fact, 
 he had not seen her at all. He is gallant enough 
 
A WOMAN AT BAY 245 
 
 to say that if he had seen her he would never have 
 forgotten her in the world. 
 
 She saw as soon as she had denied losing a purse 
 that she had made a dreadful mistake. What 
 would have been more simple than to have 
 claimed the purse at once, and watched her oppor- 
 tunity to destroy the incriminating paper? She 
 could easily have put her impromptu trip to the 
 seaside down to a whim that had suddenly seized 
 her. Her husband would never have begrudged 
 her the small amount of money that the outing 
 would have cost. But when she thought of all 
 this, it was too late. 
 
 She had had one minute's hope, when Burke in 
 a fit of disgust, had started to go. But the men- 
 tion of the "Frenchy black purse" by her husband, 
 which was followed up by Burke' s producing it, 
 had completely thrown her off her balance once 
 more. 
 
 And then had followed lies, and more lies, and 
 then more lies! Each one more inane and fool- 
 ish than the one that preceded it. She couldn't 
 even begin to remember what she had said. She 
 was losing ground each minute, growing more 
 
246 ON TRIAL 
 
 desperate in consequence. And the cruel part of 
 it all was that the man for whose happiness and 
 peace of mind she was contending was the one 
 who was torturing her. 
 
 Forced to admit that she had been at Long 
 Branch in place of having spent her day in shop- 
 ping as she had said, she at first declared that she 
 had gone down in answer to the appeal of an old 
 school friend, whom she confessed that she hadn't 
 seen in years, who was desperately ill. 
 
 When reminded that Burke had just said that 
 he had gone to the address written on a piece of 
 paper he had found in the bag only to find an old 
 caretaker in charge of an empty house, she had 
 had nothing to say. She couldn't even remember 
 the address that her friend had lived at; neither 
 the number nor the street. Another error, as she 
 was to realise in a moment. 
 
 For with a sudden flash of memory, her hus- 
 band had recalled something familiar about 206 
 Henderson Place, of which Burke had just spoken. 
 How was she to know that when Trask had asked 
 him to join him on his fishing trip he had written 
 down that very address on a card which he had 
 
A WOMAN AT BAY 247 
 
 taken from his case, and that the card was even 
 now in her husband's pocket^ 
 
 With a quick movement for which she was 
 totally unprepared, he had snatched up the purse 
 from the table where it was lying. She had had 
 no opportunity to possess herself of it since Robert 
 had taken it from her hand to count the money. 
 Emptying it on the table, he had, after a mo- 
 ment's search, found the thing he was seeking, the 
 address of the fictitious friend. And her friend's 
 address and that of Gerald Trask were one and the 
 same 206 Henderson Place, Long Branch. 
 
 In her desperation, she thought of a new lie. 
 That it was even more unconvincing than the last, 
 she did not stop to consider. And, all unthinking, 
 she was preparing the worst trap of all for herself, 
 one from which she could not possibly extricate 
 herself. 
 
 She confessed that the story of the sick friend 
 was all a stupid subterfuge. Of course that was 
 Mr. Trask's house. Equally, of course, she had 
 gone down there. The idea of doing so had come 
 to her when she first knew of his project to buy a 
 house in Cleveland. He must remember that she 
 
248 ON TRIAL 
 
 had never in all her life lived in a house. Always 
 it had been a city apartment that she had called 
 home. 
 
 What did she know about the arrangement of 
 a well planned house? The thought of trying to 
 arrange one had appalled her. She had conceived 
 the idea of asking Mr. Trask's permission to go 
 down to Long Branch and go over his house. She 
 had heard that the family were still in the city. 
 So she had telephoned to him for the necessary 
 permission. He had given his consent, and she 
 had gone down and been shown over the house 
 by the old caretaker. The whole thing had been 
 a silly impulse; she saw that now. And fearing 
 her husband's displeasure, she had lacked the 
 courage to tell him the truth. 
 
 He listened to all this with a coldness that 
 chilled her heart. When she had finished, his face 
 was still stern and hard. But he managed to ask 
 her quite carelessly if she had arranged all these 
 details over the telephone. 
 
 Of course she had. 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "He said that he didn't mind at all." 
 
A WOMAN AT BAY 249 
 
 "And he gave you his address?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Over the telephone?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That's the last lie you'll tell me!" 
 
 He sprang to his feet, his face distorted with 
 passion. 
 
 "Robert!" she screamed, "what do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean that this address is in Trask's hand- 
 writing! Do you think I don't know his reputa- 
 tion where women are concerned?" 
 
 With a furious gesture he rushed over to his 
 satchel standing in the corner of the room, and 
 took from it his revolver. 
 
 The rest we already know. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 MAY'S FLIGHT 
 
 IN her mad flight from the house, she had had but 
 one thought. In spite of the ominous sound that 
 had come to her ears over the telephone, there 
 might still be a chance that she would get there 
 in time. 
 
 What was she to do? She did not know. But 
 at any and all costs she must prevent her husband 
 from being a murderer. She had no thought of 
 herself. She would admit anything, confess any- 
 thing, promise anything. She would gladly go 
 away by herself, giving up husband and child, 
 never to set eyes on either again. She would even 
 declare that she had gone to Trask willingly. 
 That she no longer loved her husband. That she 
 had been deceiving him for years. That she had 
 never loved him. Anything! Anything! 
 
 She would make herself more despicable than 
 any woman had ever been since the world began. 
 
 The blacker she made herself out to be, the better. 
 
 250 
 
MAY'S FLIGHT 251 
 
 For surely no man would take the life of another 
 for the sake of a woman as worthless as she would 
 show herself to be. 
 
 She had started from the house, running. But 
 she found that she was attracting the attention of 
 a policeman on the corner. He might stop her, 
 question her, detain her. She could not risk that. 
 So she slowed her pace down to a fast walk. 
 
 A strand of her hair which was insecurely fas- 
 tened, fell over her shoulder. She was conscious 
 that her hat had no pins, and that it sat crookedly 
 on her head. Her hands were bare. She had not 
 thought of her gloves. On her fingers were her 
 two rings; her engagement and her wedding ring. 
 She slipped off her wedding ring and wrapped it 
 in the handkerchief that was clutched in one hand. 
 Whatever happened, that she would keep. 
 
 She remembered on entering the avenue that 
 she was not sure on which corner the Trask house 
 stood. She looked about for a policeman of 
 whom to make inquiries. But there were none in 
 sight. As she stood hesitating which way to go, 
 she began to cry softly. She was wasting time, 
 she was wasting time! And every moment was 
 
252 ON TRIAL 
 
 precious. Supposing, after all, she should be too 
 late? 
 
 Ah, at last ! A policeman came hurrying down 
 the avenue towards her. She ran towards him, 
 and asked to be directed to the house of Mr. 
 Gerald Trask, the banker. The officer gave her a 
 curious look. 
 
 "I'm just going there now. There's been some 
 trouble there. It's that house there," he pointed 
 to one a block further down. "The one with the 
 garden." 
 
 She reined in the impulse to hurry along with 
 him. He had looked at her so queerly when she 
 asked for the house. But when he was a short 
 distance down the street, she followed swiftly 
 after him. 
 
 Already a crowd had gathered in front of the 
 house. There was a policeman at the door. She 
 abandoned her first idea of going boldly up the 
 steps and ringing the bell. 
 
 Besides, she now had a new idea. If she were 
 too late, if what she had heard in the telephone 
 was what she feared it was, she might still be in 
 time to aid her husband to escape. 
 
MAY'S FLIGHT 253 
 
 The front entrance being out of, the question, 
 she walked down the garden side of the house. 
 She could see a room brilliantly lighted in which 
 a number of persons seemed to be moving excit- 
 edly about. 
 
 Ah! Now, she had it! Why had she not 
 thought of it before! She would find her way 
 into the house it would be a simple matter from 
 one of those low windows; in the confusion she 
 could slip in without any one paying any atten- 
 tion, without a doubt and give herself up as the 
 person who had fired the shot. It was most prob- 
 able that the two men had been alone. There 
 would have been no one to witness their quarrel. 
 And if, as she hoped, her husband had succeeded 
 in making his escape, who would be the wiser? 
 (The chance that Trask might have fired the shot 
 she had heard never entered her head.) 
 
 To be sure and she thought of it with a glow- 
 ing heart her husband would be certain to come 
 back and give himself up when he learned what 
 she had done. But, even if he did, her story 
 would be the more plausible of the two. She had 
 been deeply wronged by the banker, and she had 
 
254 ON TRIAL 
 
 revenged herself. It would be perfectly appar- 
 ent that he was prompted by his natural chivalry 
 in offering to take the onus of the crime on his 
 own shoulders. And so, she would be able to 
 expiate her fault. 
 
 If any one saw her open the little gate which 
 happened to be unlocked and go into the garden, 
 they were not sufficiently interested to make any 
 move to prevent her. She remembered the deli- 
 cate perfume of the jasmine as it came to her on 
 the evening air. 
 
 Still unmolested, she reached the French win- 
 dows which gave her a view of the room. It was 
 a large room, handsomely furnished. She was 
 surprised at the number of people who were there 
 already. There were officers in uniform, and per- 
 sons who looked as she imagined detectives would 
 look, in plain clothes. They were all whispering 
 together, or talking in low tones. It was impos- 
 sible to catch what they said. 
 
 Presently she noticed a woman in a peignoir, 
 lying back on a couch. Her face was very pale. 
 A maid was bending over her, and a young man 
 was fanning her. Over at the other side of the 
 
MAY'S FLIGHT 255 
 
 room, an elderly man with greying hair was just 
 rising from a stooping posture. One of the men 
 in uniform apparently asked him some question, 
 in reply to which he shook his head. He pointed 
 to something stretched on the floor beside the 
 table, and crossed the room to go over to it. 
 
 She craned her neck to see what he had been 
 doing when she first saw him. Another officer 
 came into her range of vision with an unfolded 
 sheet in his hand, which he proceeded to spread 
 over the object that had been absorbing the 
 elderly man's attention when she first saw him. 
 Before he quite covered it, she had time to rec- 
 ognise the feet and legs of Gerald Trask from the 
 pattern of the trousers which he had worn earlier 
 in the evening. 
 
 So she was too late to carry out her first plan. 
 But the other, the better one, was left. 
 
 She took a step nearer which brought her out 
 of the denser shadows. Fortunately no one hap- 
 pened to look in her direction. She was going to 
 step in the window and give herself up. What 
 was the elderly, little man doing now? Again, 
 he was stooping down over something. She was 
 
256 ON TRIAL 
 
 puzzled to think what it could be. She stepped 
 closer still, in order to see. 
 
 God of Heaven! It was her husband lying 
 dead before her! In place of one, she had the 
 blood of two men on her hands. Crazed with 
 horror, she turned and fled into the night. 
 
 (Mrs. Strickland could never tell just what 
 happened between the time she fled from the Trask 
 house and when she found herself in her bed in the 
 hospital. The hospital records are almost equally 
 barren of any information. All that we will per- 
 haps ever know is that she was brought to the 
 institution by a good-hearted cab-driver who had 
 found her unconscious near the entrance to Cen- 
 tral Park.) 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 
 
 FOR the first time in my life, I was late in arriv- 
 ing at the court room. It was not that we had 
 not started promptly, I will give Mrs. Strickland 
 and the nurse that credit. The fault was really 
 my own. I had quite forgotten, in making my 
 calculations that I must allow for a slight delay 
 in conducting the two women to the waiting-room. 
 
 While I was still apprehensive that Mrs. Strick- 
 land might prove to be unequal to the ordeal be- 
 fore her, my fears were somewhat allayed at see- 
 ing that she, herself, seemed to have perfect confi- 
 dence in her ability to go through with it. The 
 nurse, too, wore an air of determination that I 
 found positively bracing. Her whole manner in- 
 dicated that she felt that it was her duty to see 
 that her patient should accomplish what she had 
 set out to, and that she made it a rule to do her 
 duty. 
 
 It was just twenty- two minutes after ten 
 257 
 
258 ON TRIAL 
 
 when I finally entered the court-room. I expe- 
 rienced the novel and I may add distinctly un- 
 pleasant sensation of being rebuked by the 
 Court. 
 
 "This court convenes at ten o'clock, Mr. Ar- 
 buckle," said His Honour sharply. 
 
 "I must ask Your Honour to excuse me. I 
 have been working all night on this case. There 
 has been an unexpected development over night. 
 Last evening, Mrs. Strickland, the wife of the 
 defendant, came to my house. It seems that she 
 has been dangerously ill, and it is only the realisa- 
 tion of the importance of her testimony that has 
 enabled her to be in condition to take the witness 
 stand. She has told me a story, Your Honour, 
 which puts an entirely different aspect upon this 
 case." 
 
 The District Attorney was on his feet in an in- 
 stant. Out of the tail of my eye, I saw that he 
 had lost something of his air of overweening con- 
 fidence. "I object, Your Honour, to counsel com- 
 menting upon the testimony of a witness who has 
 not yet been called." 
 
 "Very well, Your Honour. I shall call Mrs. 
 
A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 259 
 
 Strickland at once. Her testimony will require 
 no comment. Call Mrs. Strickland, please." 
 
 As the attendant went to the door to call the 
 witness, I bent over Strickland's bowed head. 
 
 "It's all right, Strickland. She is coming of 
 her own free will. Nothing could hold her back 
 now. She has been very, very ill. It was only 
 yesterday that she learned of your position. You 
 must be prepared for a great change in her ap- 
 pearance." 
 
 She came in slowly, leaning slightly on the arm 
 of the attendant. As she bowed slightly to the 
 Court on taking the witness stand, her eyes fell 
 for the first time on the figure of her husband. 
 Her eyes dilated. A wave of colour swept into 
 her face, leaving it more pale than before by con- 
 trast, when it died away. For the first time, all 
 my fears for her vanished. There was that in 
 her glance that told me that her indomitable spirit 
 would see her through. 
 
 "Raise your right hand," said the Clerk. 
 
 For a moment, she fumbled with the glove 
 which she had forgotten to remove. 
 
 "Do you solemnly swear that the testimony 
 
260 ON TRIAL 
 
 you are about to give will be the truth, the whole 
 truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me 
 God?' 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 "May Deane Strickland." 
 
 "Mrs. Strickland," I asked, "are you the wife 
 of Robert Strickland, the defendant?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "When were you married?" 
 
 "July 15th, 1903." 
 
 "Did you know Gerald Trask?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I did." 
 
 "When did you first meet Mr. Trask?" 
 
 "In March, 1900." 
 
 "That was before you knew Mr. Strickland?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; more than two years before." 
 
 "How old were you at that time?" 
 
 "Just seventeen." 
 
 "Where did you first meet Mr. Trask?" 
 
 "At Lakewood." 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Strickland, describe your relations 
 with Mr. Trask at that time." 
 
 "He was very attentive to me, and took me 
 
A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 261 
 
 about a good deal. About ten days after I met 
 him, I returned to the city, and he came back, too. 
 He kept sending me things and taking me out. 
 Then, one day, he asked me to marry him." 
 
 "When was that 4 ?" 
 
 "In April, 1900." 
 
 "Did you accept him?" 
 
 "Not the first time. I asked him to wait." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "He said he would wait as long as I wanted 
 him to. But every time he saw me, he spoke to 
 me about it telling me how much he loved me 
 and how much I meant to him. He seemed so 
 earnest and sincere that I believed everything he 
 said. At last, I yielded and consented to marry 
 him." 
 
 "When was that?" 
 
 "On the ipth of May." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "He said he wanted to be married next day. 
 But he also said that on account of his family, 
 he couldn't let it be known for awhile, so we 
 would have to be married secretly. Next day he 
 called for me in his automobile and said that we 
 
262 ON TRIAL 
 
 would go to an hotel at Great Neck, Long Island, 
 to meet a clergyman with whom he had made ar- 
 rangements. We arrived at Great Neck at about 
 seven o'clock that evening." 
 
 "Yes?' 
 
 Again her face flushed. She waited a moment 
 until she could regain the mastery over herself. 
 I was probably, with one exception, the only per- 
 son in that crowded room who knew the whole 
 shameful story she was about to tell. That ex- 
 ception was Mrs. Gerald Trask. I looked over 
 at where she was sitting. She was watching Mrs. 
 Strickland intently, but I thought that I detected 
 a growing surprise in her face. 
 
 "We had arranged to have breakfast in our 
 rooms the next morning. As I came out of our 
 bedroom, the waiter knocked at the door of the 
 drawing-room. He had come to set the table for 
 breakfast. I told him to leave it for the present. 
 I had secretly determined to do it myself. I 
 would have liked to have prepared the breakfast 
 if it had been possible. In the circumstances, I 
 had to content myself with doing everything that 
 I could to make the table look attractive. 
 
A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 263 
 
 "Mr. Trask had gone out a few minutes be- 
 fore, saying that he would be back immediately. 
 I was just debating whether I would have time to 
 run out into the pretty garden that I could see 
 from my window, and gather a flower or two to 
 give my table a finishing touch, and wondering to 
 whom I should apply for the necessary permission, 
 when Mr. Russell, the proprietor of the hotel, 
 came in, a large bouquet of roses in his hand. 
 
 "He was a nice, elderly man about the age of 
 my father. I had taken a liking to him on sight. 
 And, if a little later I thought him unreasonable, 
 harsh, and cruel, it was because I didn't under- 
 stand. 
 
 " 'Good morning, Mrs. Trask,' he said, offering 
 me the flowers, for which I thanked him warmly. 
 Tve just come in to see that the table is laid prop- 
 erly. I want your first breakfast to be a func- 
 tion.' 
 
 " 'Well, I think, myself, that it looks very nice, 
 indeed,' I laughed. 
 
 "Fortunately, it seemed to meet with his ap- 
 proval. For, having looked at it critically, he 
 nodded his head. 
 
264 ON TRIAL 
 
 " f l told the chef to make the effort of his life.' 
 
 " 'That was darling of you, Mr. Russell.' 
 
 " 'And,' he went on, T wish you both lots of 
 happiness. That bridal bouquet, I want you to 
 understand, came from our own garden.' 
 
 "I assured him that they were beautiful, and 
 that I would prize them all the more because they 
 hadn't come from a florist's in the ordinary way. 
 
 "With a last hope that we might enjoy our 
 breakfast, he was just going out of the door when 
 Mr. Trask returned. The two men exchanged 
 cordial greetings. I gathered that Mr. Trask had 
 been down often before. 
 
 "I called Mr. Trask's attention to the flowers 
 and said that I thought that Mr. Russell had been 
 very nice to give them to me. He said that of 
 course no one could help being nice to me, for 
 which pretty speech I rewarded him by giving him 
 a rose for his buttonhole. 
 
 "Every word of our conversation during break- 
 fast is burned into my brain. They told me aft- 
 erwards, that during my subsequent illness, I kept 
 going over it, and over it, as if I were repeating 
 
A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 265 
 
 something I had deliberately committed to mem- 
 ory. 
 
 " 'Shall we sit down? The breakfast smells 
 very interesting.' 
 
 " 'Before you've had a mouthful to eat, you 
 must tell me where you've been all this long 
 while!' 
 
 " 'I've been fixing the car.' 
 
 " 'I was just going to look for you. You've 
 been gone ages.' 
 
 " 'Only fifteen minutes.' 
 
 f ' 'Only fifteen minutes ! Why, that's a life- 
 time. I thought you were never coming back.' 
 
 " 'Did you 4 ? And what would you have done, 
 if I hadn't?' 
 
 " 'Heavens, what an idea ! That would have 
 been a nice state of affairs, wouldn't it? And on 
 our first day !' 
 
 " 'Yes. Parted at the altar, eh?' 
 
 " T think you deserve a scolding for running 
 away for so long.' 
 
 " 'Don't scold me. I do hate being scolded on 
 an empty stomach.' 
 
266 ON TRIAL 
 
 " 'Will you promise never to do it again?' 
 
 " 'Yes, I promise.' 
 
 " 'Oh, that isn't enough. You must say: "I'll 
 never, never, never leave you again as long as I 
 live." Say that.' 
 
 " 'I'll never, never, never leave you What 
 is the rest of it?' 
 
 " ' Again as long as I live.' 
 
 " 'Again as long as I live. Have I got it 
 right? Is that all of it?' 
 
 " 'Yes. And now you must ask me to forgive 
 you.' 
 
 "'Forgive me!' 
 
 " 'May dear.' 
 
 " 'May dear.' 
 
 "And he leaned across the table to kiss me. 
 
 " 'Ooh !' I said. 'You taste of gasoline.' 
 
 " 'Yes; I've been tanking up the car.' 
 
 "'Why?' 
 
 " 'We're going away this afternoon. 5 
 
 " 'Going away? Where to?' 
 
 " 'Anywhere you like. Oh, there's no fun here. 
 This place is dead.' 
 
 " 'But I love this place,' I persisted. 'It will 
 
White, New York. 
 
 "And he leaned across the table to kiss me" 
 
A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 267 
 
 always be sacred to me. Our wedding place! 
 It's the greatest happiness we'll ever know.' 
 
 "I was sincere in what I said. I genuinely 
 thought that I was in love with Gerald Trask. 
 It was only later, when I came to know what real 
 love was the love that I have for my husband, 
 Robert Strickland that I realised that in my 
 youth and inexperience I had taken the counter- 
 feit for the real, the shadow for the substance. I 
 was flattered and dazzled by his protestations of 
 love for me. I believed him when he told me that 
 his life would be empty without me. There was 
 intoxication in the thought that I loomed so large 
 in the life of a man who had seen the world and 
 society and had had the opportunity of meeting 
 so many pretty and clever women. I know now 
 that his appeal was to my vanity and not to my 
 heart. But you must remember that I was more 
 ignorant of the world than most girls of my age. 
 And I was only seventeen, little more than a child. 
 
 " 'Of course, there's a lot in that,' he went on 
 in reply to my protest. 'Still, it's not very lively.' 
 
 " 'Every once in a while, Gerald, years from 
 now, we'll slip down here quite quietly just you 
 
268 ON TRIAL 
 
 and I alone and live this day over again, won't 
 we? 
 
 " 'Yes; that will be bully.' 
 
 " 'Isn't it strange ! Yesterday, Great Neck was 
 only a queer name to me. And now it's the dear- 
 est spot on earth. I'm so happy, Gerald, dear. 
 Must we keep it quiet for long?' 
 
 " Tor quite a while yet, I'm afraid.' 
 
 " 'It seems so wrong for families to interfere 
 in things like this,' I objected. 'If people love 
 each other, I don't see why they have to consult 
 any one else about it.' 
 
 " 'Of course, you are perfectly right about that, 
 but you can't get everybody to look at it just that 
 way.' 
 
 " 'I wish we could tell. I'm just longing to go 
 about telling everybody how happy I am.' 
 
 " 'But you mustn't say a word to any one. Re- 
 member, you've promised.' 
 
 " 'No, I won't. I'll keep my promise. But 
 the clergyman may tell some one, Gerald. Cler- 
 gymen are very gossipy, you know. At least all 
 the ones I have ever known were !' 
 
 " Til see that he doesn't tell, I promise you.' 
 
A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 269 
 
 " What's his name?' 
 
 " The clergyman? 
 
 " 'Yes.' 
 
 " 'Oh Smith. Walter Smith.' 
 
 " Is he nice? 
 
 " 'Yes; fine chap.' 
 
 " 'You're very good friends, aren't you?' 
 
 " 'Oh, yes. We were classmates at college.' 
 
 " Tm glad of that.' 
 
 " 'Why?' 
 
 " 'Because it will be much nicer than having a 
 perfect stranger. Don't you think so?' 
 
 " 'Of course. That's why I picked him out.' 
 
 " 'Do you think he'll be here soon?' 
 
 " 'Sometime during the morning.' 
 
 " 'It's strange he didn't receive your first mes- 
 sage last night, isn't it?' 
 
 " 'There's nothing so strange about it after all. 
 His servant forgot to deliver it, that's all.' 
 
 " 'And, of course, it was too late for him to 
 come down after you telephoned from here.' 
 
 " 'Yes, of course. It was almost midnight. I 
 couldn't well have asked it of him.' 
 
 " 'I wish he had come last night.' 
 
270 ON TRIAL 
 
 " c Yes; it's too bad he didn't.' 
 
 " 'I feel so uncomfortable about it.' 
 
 " 'I don't see why. A few hours sooner 
 or later what possible difference does it 
 make? 
 
 " C I suppose it doesn't really make any differ- 
 ence. I wish, just the same, that you had gotten 
 some one in the neighbourhood.' 
 
 " 'I told you I tried to,' he said with a touch of 
 impatience. 'The only clergyman who could 
 have married us is out of town attending a con- 
 vention. But if I had dreamed that you were 
 going to feel so cut up about it ' 
 
 " 'You aren't angry with me, are you, dear*?' 
 
 " 'No, certainly not. I understand just how 
 you feel about it. But it's only a matter of form, 
 after all, you know.' 
 
 " 'Of course it is. And I'm a silly girl, and 
 you're very patient with me. Do you know, 
 Gerald, I'm almost afraid of you sometimes 4 ?' 
 
 " 'What nonsense ! Why V 
 
 " 'You know so many things.' 
 
 " That's no reason why you should be afraid 
 of me.' 
 
A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 271 
 
 " 'I know it isn't. Gerald dear, you're sure 
 you never cared for any other girl 4 ?' 
 
 " 'My dear child,' he laughed. 'I've told you 
 so a hundred times! Don't you believe me 4 ?' 
 
 " 'Y-e-s, but it seems so wonderful that you 
 should fall in love with me. You've met so many 
 other girls.' 
 
 " 'So I have. But I've never met any one like 
 you.' 
 
 " 'You do care a great deal for me, don't you?' 
 
 " Tve told you.' 
 
 " 'And you'll be very good to me*?' 
 
 " 'As good as I know how to be.' 
 
 " 'And you'll always love me?' 
 
 " 'As long as I live. Haven't I said so?' 
 
 " 'I do wish Mr. Smith would come.' 
 
 " 'I can't imagine what's keeping him.' 
 
 " 'Don't you think that you had better tele- 
 phone again*?' 
 
 " 'I'd rather not. Let's be patient a little 
 longer.' 
 
 " 'What will we do if he doesn't come 4 ?' 
 
 " 'Well, you see we must leave here this after- 
 
272 ON TRIAL 
 
 " 'But we can't leave without being married !' 
 
 " 'Why not?' 
 
 " 'Why not! Gerald, you're laughing at me! 
 Surely, surely you wouldn't want to.' 
 
 " 'I thought we had agreed about that.' 
 
 " 'I know, but' 
 
 " 'I don't see what you are worried about. It's 
 only a matter of a ceremony a formality.' 
 
 " 'I know; but a girl looks at these things dif- 
 ferently.' 
 
 " 'Well, if my man doesn't come, it would be 
 impossible to be married here anyhow.' 
 
 " 'Couldn't you find some one?' 
 
 " 'Impossible ! There's no one available. Be- 
 sides, we couldn't get a ring down here.' 
 
 " 'Haven't you brought a ring?' 
 
 " 'No, I forgot all about it. It's all right, 
 though. I told Wallace to bring one down with 
 him.' 
 
 " 'Wallace? I thought you said his name was 
 Walter.' 
 
 " 'So it is. Wallace is a nick-name I gave him 
 long ago, because he's so proud of his Scottish an- 
 cestry.' 
 
A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 273 
 
 " 'But I've got a gold ring that will do,' I said. 
 And I went into the bedroom to get it out of the 
 little box of trinkets that I had, for some reason or 
 other, placed in my satchel at the last moment." 
 
 For the first time her voice, which, although it 
 had been very low was clear and distinct, broke. 
 Had she reached the limit of her strength? Was 
 she going to fail me now? The silence in the 
 court room was absolute. Even the women had 
 forgotten to fan themselves. Strickland caught 
 me by the arm. 
 
 "For God's sake, do not go on with it!" he whis- 
 pered hoarsely. "Do you want her to kill her- 
 self? Can't you see that she is at the end of her 
 strength?" 
 
 "There's only a little more," I said soothingly. 
 "She has passed the worst. The strain is nearly 
 over." But I was far from feeling the confidence 
 that I pretended to. Mrs. Strickland was leaning 
 back in her chair. Her eyelids drooped over her 
 feverish eyes. I feared that she was about to 
 faint. 
 
 Then I suddenly remembered the nurse, waiting 
 in the outer room. Stepping over to His Hon- 
 
274 ON TRIAL 
 
 our's desk I asked for a moment's delay, while I 
 went to see if I could get something to revive the 
 half -fainting woman. Having obtained the nec- 
 essary permission, I went in search of the nurse. 
 I never doubted that a person as capable as she 
 gave me the impression of being would have had 
 the forethought to provide herself with some rem- 
 edy against just such a situation. 
 
 As I passed along the room, I noted the tense 
 expression on the faces of the crowd that filled it. 
 Chancing to glance at Mrs. Trask, I was aston- 
 ished to see that even she had been moved out of 
 her habitual calm by the witness's story. There 
 was no doubt about it, she had been crying. Her 
 eyes were still red. At that moment, I felt more 
 kindly towards her than I would have thought 
 possible earlier in the day. I realised that she, 
 too, must have suffered as the wife of Gerald 
 Trask. Her quick jealousy which seemed ready 
 to flame into life at the bare mention of a woman's 
 name, was not without reason for its existence. 
 
 I was not disappointed in my estimate of Miss 
 Foley's capabilities. Have I said that the nurse's 
 name was Foley*? Hardly waiting for me to ex- 
 
A WIFE'S SACRIFICE 275 
 
 plain the nature of my errand, she quickly poured 
 a few drops of a dark and pungent liquid into a 
 glass, added some water from the water-cooler that 
 stood in the corner of the room, and handed it to 
 me without as much as a word. 
 
 Hastening back into the court room, I went over 
 to Mrs. Strickland's side. I had only to touch 
 her lightly on the arm to arouse her. Opening 
 her eyes, she saw the glass in my hand. Taking 
 it from me, she drained it at a draught. The ef- 
 fect was immediate. It must have been an un- 
 usually powerful tonic, and no doubt the few 
 minutes respite from the terrific strain to which 
 she was being subjected contributed to her recov- 
 ery. 
 
 "You are very good," she whispered. "I am 
 all right now. I am sorry to have caused you so 
 much trouble. But for the moment, I couldn't 
 go on." 
 
 "You are sure that you are strong enough to 
 go on? I am sure that His Honour will grant 
 us a few moments' recess to give you time to re- 
 cover yourself completely." 
 
 "No, no; let me finish while I am here. I 
 
276 ON TRIAL 
 
 could never find the courage to go through with it 
 again." 
 
 Having made a sign to the Court that my wit- 
 ness was ready, I left her side and went back to 
 my place. 
 
 "You may proceed, Mr. Arbuckle." 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SHIPWRECK 
 
 "WHAT occurred while you were in the next room, 
 Mrs. Strickland?" 
 
 "While I was looking for the ring," resumed 
 the witness in a weak voice, which, however, gath- 
 ered strength as she went on, "I heard some one 
 knocking at the door of the sitting-room, and I 
 heard Mr. Trask call: 'Come in.' For the mo- 
 ment I hoped that it might be the Reverend Mr. 
 Smith, who had been so unaccountably delayed. 
 
 "Hurriedly snatching up my ring, I ran back 
 into the sitting-room. But it was only the pro- 
 prietor, Mr. Russell. In his hand he held an 
 opened telegram. I had time to notice that all 
 the friendly, genial expression that his kindly old 
 face had worn earlier in the day, had vanished. 
 His whole manner was stern and forbidding. 
 
 " 'Hello, Russell/ said Mr. Trask, 'what have 
 
 you got there 4 ? Despatches from the front *?' 
 
 277 
 
278 ON TRIAL 
 
 " 'Gerald, look; will this do?' I asked, holding 
 out my ring. 
 
 "But Mr. Russell went on without even ac- 
 knowledging my presence. 'I'd like an explana- 
 tion of this!' He shook the telegram angrily in 
 front of Mr. Trask's face. 
 
 " 'I can't very well explain it without knowing 
 what it's all about,' replied Mr. Trask. But I 
 could see that he was very uneasy about some- 
 thing. 
 
 " 'Detain May Deane until I arrive. She is 
 with Gerald Trask. Henry Deane,' read Mr. 
 Russell. 
 
 " 'From my father !' I cried. 
 
 1 'Mr. Trask sprang to his feet. I could see that 
 he was terribly angry. He didn't even look at 
 Mr. Russell, much less attempt to answer him. 
 'What is this?' he demanded of me. 
 
 " 'I don't know, Gerald. I don't understand 
 it,' I said. I was beginning to be frightened with- 
 out exactly knowing why. 
 
 " 'Didn't you give me your solemn promise ' 
 
 " 'I have told no one,' I protested. 
 
 " 'Well, Mr. Trask?' demanded Mr. Russell. 
 
SHIPWRECK 279 
 
 " Well, what? 
 
 " 'Is this young lady your wife, or isn't she?' 
 
 " 'What difference does that make to you 4 ?' 
 
 " 'It makes a great deal of difference to me. 
 You've registered as man and wife.' 
 
 " 'I don't see what you're worrying about, 
 then,' said Mr. Trask, attempting to turn it off 
 with a laugh. 
 
 "I couldn't understand why he acted so. Why 
 didn't he explain the whole thing at once. Even 
 then, I felt that I should die of shame! 
 
 " 'But explain to Mr. Russell, Gerald! We're 
 going to be married this morning, Mr. Russell,' I 
 said, turning to him. 'We were going to be mar- 
 ried last night, only there was no clergyman.' 
 
 " 'Keep quiet, May !' 
 
 "For the first time Mr. Russell seemed to be 
 aware of my presence. He turned to me, but his 
 face wore a look that was almost sneering. 
 'Quite so!' he said with a hard, little laugh. 
 'There probably aren't more than about a dozen 
 clergymen within a mile of this hotel !' 
 
 "I stared at him in blank amazement. And 
 then I felt myself grow cold all over. My heart 
 
280 ON TRIAL 
 
 was beating as though it were going to burst. 
 'What do you mean? Gerald!' I screamed. 
 
 " 'Keep quiet, I tell you,' he snarled. 'Let me 
 manage this. What do you want, Russell'?' 
 
 " 'I want you to get out of this house at once.' 
 
 " 'We are planning to leave this afternoon.' 
 
 " 'This afternoon won't do. You must go im- 
 mediately. It's eleven o'clock now. You must 
 be out by noon.' 
 
 " Til go when I get good and damned ready,' 
 blustered Mr. Trask. 
 
 " 'No, you won't. You'll go now. I won't 
 have any' he hesitated for a minute 'any ques- 
 tionable characters in my house.' 
 
 "At these dreadful words, I thought that I was 
 going to faint. I fell into a chair beside the table. 
 And it was only a few short minutes since I had 
 been happily sitting there, in that very chair, eat- 
 ing my first breakfast with the man who, in the 
 sight of God, at least, was my husband ! 
 
 " 'Gerald! Gerald! Don't let him say such 
 dreadful things!' 
 
 " 'Will you be quiet?' 
 
 " Tve been years building up a reputation for 
 
SHIPWRECK 281 
 
 this place,' went on Mr. Russell, 'and I don't in- 
 tend risking it for you, or for any one else.' 
 
 " 'You're damned independent, old man. This 
 isn't the only roadhouse on Long Island, you 
 know,' said Mr. Trask coarsely. 
 
 " 'I guess I can stand the loss of your trade, and 
 of anybody like you. I never did care for your 
 sort, anyhow.' 
 
 " 'You've said enough, Russell. You'd better 
 clear out of here.' 
 
 " 'All right. But I want you out of here by 
 noon, understand that. Young lady,' he said, 
 turning to me and for the first time his face 
 softened, and I could see a look of pity in his old 
 eyes C I hope for your sake that your father gets 
 here before then.' 
 
 "For some reason, these words seemed to put 
 Mr. Trask in a rage. 'If you don't get out of this 
 room, I'll kick you out !' He shook his clenched 
 fist in Mr. Russell's face. 
 
 " 'I'm going. I've said all I've got to say for 
 now. But, remember ! If you're not out of here 
 by noon, I'll send for the police.' With that, he 
 left us. 
 
282 ON TRIAL 
 
 "At that I broke down and cried from sheer 
 nervousness and fright. 'Gerald, why did he talk 
 like that 4 ? Why didn't you explain*?' 
 
 "But he paid no attention to me. He was 
 striding up and down the little room. I could 
 see that he was terribly upset. But even then, I 
 knew it was not of me that he was thinking. 
 
 " 'This is a nice mess we're in!' 
 
 " 'But, Gerald, if you had only explained about 
 Mr. Smith!' 
 
 "He made an angry gesture. 'Didn't I tell 
 you not to let your father know where we 
 were? 
 
 '"But I didn't!' 
 
 "'What!' 
 
 " 'I didn't, I tell you. Of course I would have, 
 if you hadn't told me not to.' 
 
 "He came over and shook me violently by the 
 shoulders. 'Don't lie to me !' 
 
 " 'Gerald!' I broke down utterly at that. 
 
 " 'I told you fifty times, if I told you once, that 
 I didn't want anybody to know.' 
 
 " 'But I didn't, I didn't,' I sobbed. 
 
 "For a moment he seemed almost ashamed of 
 
SHIPWRECK 283 
 
 himself for having laid his hands upon me. 'But 
 how else could he have found out?' he asked. 
 
 " 'I don't know. But not from me/ 
 
 "He began to pace up and down the room once 
 more. 'Just what I was trying my best to avoid 
 has happened.' 
 
 " 'But it's not my fault.' 
 
 " 'He'll come down here and make a scene.' 
 
 " 'Not when he finds that it's really all right/ 
 I said eagerly. 'But I wonder how he knew that 
 we weren't married yet?' 
 
 "Mr. Trask suddenly stood still. Pulling out 
 his watch, he frowned over it for a second. Then 
 he seemed to have made up his mind to some- 
 thing. 
 
 " 'Don't waste time now. Get ready.' 
 
 " 'Ready for what?' 
 
 "'To go; what did you suppose I meant! 
 We've got to clear out of here before the old man 
 gets here.' 
 
 "I stared at him in amazement. Go before 
 my father came ! What could he be thinking of? 
 I jumped out of my chair and ran over and seized 
 him by the arm. 
 
284 ON TRIAL 
 
 " 'Oh, no, Gerald, we must wait now. Don't 
 you see ' 
 
 " 'I'm managing this. Get ready, I tell you.' 
 
 "There came a pounding at the door. Not a 
 knocking, but a pounding. 
 
 " 'Oh, that must be Mr. Smith,' I said faintly. 
 But I knew in my heart that it was not. 
 
 "'Damn it! That's your father, I'll bet. 
 Now we're both in for the devil of a row.' 
 
 "There came a rattling at the knob of the door. 
 It evidently was locked. Mr. Trask must have 
 locked it after Mr. Russell without my having 
 seen him. 
 
 " 'Shall I open the door? I whispered. 
 
 " 'Wait a minute,' he whispered back. Tf it's 
 your father, I don't want to see him.' 
 
 " 'But, Gerald ' The pounding and rattling 
 began again. 
 
 " 'Listen to me.' He seemed suddenly to have 
 made up his mind to something. 'I'm going into 
 the other room. I'll wait in there while you talk 
 to the old man. If he asks for me, tell him I'm 
 out. Get rid of him as quickly as you can. Do 
 you understand?' 
 
SHIPWRECK 285 
 
 " 'Yes; but if it's Mr. Smith, after all?' 
 
 " 'Do as I tell you, do you hear me*?' 
 
 "He ran into the bedroom and closed the door 
 after him. I heard him swear as he tried to lock 
 it. But the key wouldn't turn. I waited a 
 minute, and then I went over to the door of 
 the sitting-room and unlocking it, threw it 
 open. 
 
 "'Father!' I cried. 
 
 "His face was whiter than I had ever seen it. 
 He seemed to have grown older in a day. There 
 were deep lines that I had never noticed in his 
 dear face !" 
 
 For a moment, the witness's iron control 
 threatened to give way. But with a supreme ef- 
 fort, she managed to go on. I thanked God that 
 it was nearly over. 
 
 "He gave me no word of greeting. 'Where's 
 Trask?' was all he said. 
 
 " 'Why did you come here, Father?' I asked in 
 wonder. 
 
 " 'Where's Trask?' he repeated. 
 
 " 'He he's out.' 
 
 " 'Where did he go?' 
 
286 ON TRIAL 
 
 " Why I don't know he didn't say. But, 
 Father' 
 
 " 'When is he coming back?' 
 
 "His manner frightened me almost as much as 
 Mr. Trask's had done. 
 
 " 'Why not for quite a while,' I said lamely. 
 And then I asked again: 'How did you know 
 we were down here, Father?' 
 
 " 'Never mind now. Get your things, May.' 
 
 " 'My things? Why?' 
 
 " 'We're going home.' 
 
 " 'No, no ! I can't do that.' And then I 
 knew that he had found out that we had not been 
 married yet. I did not ask myself how, I only 
 felt that I must explain everything without a 
 minute's delay. Now I understood why he 
 looked so stern and troubled. 
 
 " 'But, Father, Gerald and I are going to be 
 married this morning.' 
 
 " 'Get your things, May.' 
 
 "He had never spoken so coldly to me in his 
 life. I was the youngest, and no doubt for that 
 reason, he had always been more indulgent with 
 me than with my sisters. 
 
SHIPWRECK 287 
 
 " 'But, Father, you don't seem to understand. 
 Gerald and I are going to be married. We're 
 waiting for the clergyman. We've been waiting 
 ever since last night.' 
 
 "Two big tears brimmed over from my 
 father's eyes. Twice he tried to speak and 
 failed. 
 
 " 'He can't marry you,' he finally managed. 
 His voice was husky. 
 
 " 'He can't marry me ! He can't What do 
 you mean!' 
 
 " 'He is already married.' 
 
 " 'Married,' I said dully. I understood the 
 word. I understood what the word married 
 meant. But, somehow, I didn't understand it 
 connected with Gerald. I stood what seemed to 
 be a long time with my hand on my father's 
 shoulder looking up into his face. The tears were 
 coming quite fast now. I started to count them. 
 There were two, and then two more, and then two 
 more, and then 
 
 "What was that he was saying? He was ap- 
 parently speaking to me, so I stopped counting 
 the tears to listen. 
 
288 ON TRIAL 
 
 " c His wife telephoned to me this morning. 
 She's been having him watched.' 
 
 "There were two more, and two more, and 
 two 
 
 "And then the meaning of those dreadful words 
 crashed into my brain ! 
 
 "'I don't believe it! I don't believe it!' I 
 screamed. 
 
 " 'Come, May.' 
 
 "I stopped sobbing. For Gerald's sake, I must 
 clear up this fearful misunderstanding. 
 
 " 'But, Father, don't you understand*?' I tried 
 to keep control of my voice, but I had to stop 
 every now and then, because my sobs threatened 
 to choke me. 'We are to be married to be mar- 
 ried this morning. There's there's a clergyman 
 coming down. He was to have come last last 
 night. Say that you understand!' 
 
 "My father said nothing. He didn't even look 
 at me. He seemed to be looking at some one 
 over my shoulder. Some one who was standing 
 behind me. Of course, I knew that there was 
 no one there. But my father seemed to think 
 that there was. He must have grieved terribly 
 
SHIPWRECK 289 
 
 over what some one had told him about us. He 
 didn't look as if he had had any sleep for ever so 
 long. That was it. I had heard somewhere that 
 people who had been without sleep for a long 
 time were sometimes almost delirious. My father 
 fancied that we were not alone. 
 
 " 'Father ! What makes you act so strangely?' 
 
 "Then I couldn't stand his looking over my 
 shoulder any longer. I turned round. There 
 was a woman standing there behind me. A 
 woman whom I had never seen before in my life. 
 She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at 
 my father. 
 
 " 'Who are you? What do you want?' 
 
 "But she didn't answer me. 
 
 "I turned back to father. 'Who is she?' 
 
 " This is Mrs. Gerald Trask.' 
 
 "Then in a sort of dream I heard the woman 
 say : 'You had better go home with your father.' 
 
 "I rushed over to the door of the bedroom. 
 
 " 'Gerald ! Gerald !' I cried, pounding on the 
 door. There was no answer. I flung the door 
 wide. The room was empty. I ran to the win- 
 dow, which was a low one, giving onto the garden. 
 
2QO ON TRIAL 
 
 The road by which we had come made a sharp 
 turn just in front of the window. While I stood 
 staring out, I heard the 'honk' of an auto-horn. 
 A car, going at a terrific speed, shot past and just 
 barely made the corner. The driver was muffled 
 up in a long dust coat, the collar turned up about 
 his ears. But I knew that car, and I knew the 
 driver. It was Gerald Trask ! 
 
 "I don't exactly know what happened next. I 
 believe that I fainted. And afterwards for many, 
 many weeks I was terribly ill. For a long time 
 they thought that, even if my life were spared, I 
 would never again have my reason. 
 
 "I was taken to a place in the country where I 
 could have perfect quiet, and where there would 
 be nothing to bring to my mind my experience. 
 My sister took care of me, and I was among peo- 
 ple whom my father had known as a young man, 
 and who were devoted to him, and because of him, 
 to me. Indeed I had occasion to test their devo- 
 tion once since, when I was very ill before my 
 child was born. 
 
 "For weeks, the sound of that automobile horn 
 
SHIPWRECK 291 
 
 went through my head. My sister has told me 
 that for days my ravings took the form of repeat- 
 ing the conversations I had had with Mr. Trask, 
 with Mr. Russell, and with my father on that 
 awful day. Before I had fully recovered, my 
 father died. 
 
 "Then I met Robert, my husband. When I 
 saw that he loved me, I tried to tell him about 
 about that terrible experience. But I was afraid 
 of destroying his happiness. He would not have 
 understood. Men don't understand. And I 
 loved him so ! 
 
 "He seemed to need me and to need his belief 
 in me. I came to realise that I must never tell 
 him. He was all that life meant to me. I 
 wanted to devote my every thought to shielding 
 him from the slightest unhappiness. Even though 
 he was a strong man, he seemed to need my pro- 
 tection. 
 
 "Two years later, we were married. I had al- 
 ready begun to think of that awful experience 
 only as a terrible dream. Then my baby, Doris, 
 came. And then I had two to watch over. The 
 
292 ON TRIAL 
 
 happiness of those two was my one aim in life. 
 For nine years, we three were perfectly happy to- 
 gether. 
 
 "Then one day about a year ago my hus- 
 band mentioned his name. He had met that man 
 somewhere. I hoped and prayed that their ac- 
 quaintance was to be only a passing one. But my 
 prayer was not answered. They became more and 
 more friendly. Robert spoke more than once of 
 having us meet, but for a whole year I managed 
 to contrive to avoid that meeting. 
 
 "Meanwhile, Robert's business troubles had 
 begun. He that man lent him money and 
 helped him in other ways. In their growing 
 friendship, I saw the wreck of all our happiness. 
 
 "Then a business opportunity arose, which 
 would take us away from New York. I urged 
 my husband to accept this, and he finally decided 
 to do so. It seemed as if, after all, my prayer was 
 being answered in a different way. Some Power 
 was guarding the happiness of my husband and 
 my baby. 
 
 "It was on a Monday that Robert left to go for 
 a few days to Cleveland, Ohio. He had already 
 
SHIPWRECK 293 
 
 made several visits there in connection with his 
 new business. But it was chiefly on our account 
 that he was returning this time. A house that he 
 had seen and liked, and which could be had at a 
 figure which he felt that he could afford, had been 
 tentatively offered to him. Now, it seemed, that 
 the owner had suddenly decided that he wished to 
 close the deal without loss of time. It was that, 
 that took him back on a hurried trip. 
 
 "I knew that he had given him his note for ten 
 thousand dollars, and that the note would fall due 
 before his return. I reminded him of this. But 
 he said that it could easily be arranged. He 
 would write a note to to Mr. Trask, explaining 
 that he would return by the 24th the note was 
 due on the 22nd and that he was too good a 
 fellow to make any trouble about it. Then, too, 
 he was expecting an advance from his new busi- 
 ness associates in Cleveland which would make 
 the paying of it all the easier. 
 
 "Tuesday night, the next night after my hus- 
 band had gone, he came. He had received my 
 husband's note, and came to leave word that it 
 was all right, he said. He knew, of course, that 
 
294 ON TRIAL 
 
 my husband was married, but he had no idea that 
 I was his wife. 
 
 "He recognised me the moment I came into the 
 room. My maid had merely said that it was some 
 one with a message for Mr. Strickland, and I had 
 thought that it might be some one to arrange about 
 the moving of our household goods, as my husband 
 was hesitating between two bids that he had re- 
 ceived. He had written leaving the matter open 
 until his return, but I thought that perhaps one 
 of the firms had wished to leave some word for 
 him. 
 
 "He threatened to tell Robert everything. He 
 taunted me with the fact of my long silence. He 
 said that my husband would believe anything he 
 chose to tell him on account of that. 
 
 "He demanded that I come down to his house 
 at Long Branch the next day. I begged for 
 mercy. I went down on my knees to him. I 
 begged, and begged, and begged! He wouldn't 
 even listen to me. 
 
 "Then I thought of my sister, who had been 
 with me through all my trouble. She would back 
 me up in the confession I now saw that I should 
 
SHIPWRECK 295 
 
 have to make to my husband at last. But even 
 while I defied him, telling him that I could pro- 
 duce a witness who knew of the whole dreadful 
 story at the time, I knew that I was completely at 
 his mercy. And he knew it, as well as I did. 
 
 "He said he would ruin Robert, make a pauper 
 of him of my husband. I knew that the ten 
 thousand dollars was due. Supposing that any- 
 thing happened that Robert could not pay ! 
 
 "I was beside myself with fear. I didn't care 
 for myself. It wasn't that. I only thought of 
 my husband and my baby. Their happiness was 
 in my hands. I was ready to pay any price to 
 shield them. If by dying, I could have saved 
 them, how willingly, how gladly I would have 
 died ! It would have been far easier than than 
 what he demanded. No, there was only one way, 
 and I had to save them! 
 
 "But Robert, my husband, found out, and all 
 my years of planning, all the hopes I had in this 
 world, were shattered. 
 
 "Yesterday, as I lay half conscious in the hos- 
 pital, I happened to hear two of the nurses dis- 
 cussing the testimony given in a murder trial by 
 
 
296 ON TRIAL 
 
 a little girl. After listening for a time, I discov- 
 ered that it was my little girl they were speaking 
 of. And that it was my husband who was on 
 trial for murder, and accused of burglary as well. 
 
 "They didn't want to let me come here to-day. 
 But I showed them that I must. I made them 
 see that my husband might be put to death unless 
 the truth were told. 
 
 "I've told you the truth. Can't you* under- 
 stand"? My husband didn't go to that man's 
 house to rob it. He didn't go there for that 
 wretched money. Robert's not a thief! J am 
 the one who is to blame. The fault is all mine. 
 Z am the guilty one. I've ruined the lives of my 
 husband and baby. God forgive me ! God for- 
 give me!" 
 
 To my dying day, I shall hear the hopeless an- 
 guish of that cry! If there was a dry eye in the 
 court room, I don't know whose it was. It cer- 
 tainly wasn't mine. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE JURY DEBATES 
 
 THE jury had been out over four hours. As is 
 always the case, all sorts of rumours were flying 
 about the court. In the corridors and lobbies of 
 the big building little knots of men, and a few 
 women, stood discussing the chances of the jury 
 staying out all night. 
 
 The more fashionable part of the crowd who 
 had distinguished our case with their interest had 
 of course dispersed. A few might have been 
 found in some of the higher class restaurants in 
 the neighbourhood. But the majority had gone 
 about their various occupations. Popular inter- 
 est had, of course, centred itself on Mrs. Strick- 
 land. For the moment, the poor lady was prob- 
 ably the most widely talked of woman in New 
 York. After her testimony, even the verdict of 
 the jury was a matter of minor interest except, 
 naturally, to those who might be said to have a 
 stake in the result. 
 
 297 
 
298 ON TRIAL 
 
 McLean, whom I encountered just outside of 
 the building, informed me that the general opin- 
 ion inclined in favour of a "Hung" jury. The 
 theory upon which this prognostication was based 
 seemed to be that while people were inclined to 
 accept the motive supplied by Mrs. Strickland's 
 remarkable story as the one which had actuated 
 the accused man in the shooting of Trask, the fact 
 remained that the disappearance of the ten thou- 
 sand dollars had not been explained in any satis- 
 factory way. 
 
 "I should be inclined to go even further than 
 that," I said sarcastically. "I should say that 
 it had not been explained at all! Pm sure I 
 haven't made any attempt to explain it." 
 
 "So they all say," remarked McLean dryly, to 
 which observation I had no reply. All the same, 
 I considered it distinctly unfair coming from 
 McLean. 
 
 A few minutes later I regretted that I had not 
 thought to taunt him with the fact that there 
 seemed to be nothing to bear out his cherished 
 theory that it was Mrs. Trask, no less, who could 
 account for the missing cash ! 
 
THE JURY DEBATES 299 
 
 As soon as Mrs. Strickland had left the stand, 
 she had gone, accompanied by Miss Foley to my 
 office, where Mrs. Stanwood and Doris were al- 
 ready waiting. 
 
 I had purposely absented myself until the sis- 
 ters, the one barrier which had existed between 
 them, now happily swept away, would have had 
 time to indulge themselves to the full in what I 
 believe is known to the sex as "a good cry," before 
 intruding upon their lachrymose orgy. 
 
 I found that I had timed my arrival with com- 
 mendable circumspection. There were abundant 
 traces that tears had been shed even Miss Foley's 
 eyes wore a suspicious redness but to all appear- 
 ances, the worst was over. 
 
 Doris, a picture of happy contentment, was 
 seated in her mother's lap, her head resting on 
 her shoulder. She gave me her engaging little 
 smile, and held out her small hand, in token that 
 she had forgiven me the unhappy hours I had 
 been compelled to cause her. 
 
 Having assured them that, in a jury case, per- 
 haps beyond all others, no news was good news, 
 I left them to enjoy their happy reunion, and has- 
 
300 ON TRIAL 
 
 tened back to the court. Here I found that the 
 tide of opinion in favour of a disagreement had 
 risen rather than abated. There were many who 
 professed to have inside information that the re- 
 sult of the last several ballots had remained un- 
 changed. Of course the boast of "inside infor- 
 mation" was all nonsense. Still I must admit 
 that, after a tolerably long career, the source of 
 these mysterious guesses, which are frequently cor- 
 rect, has never been cleared up to my satisfaction. 
 
 It was not until long after the interest in the 
 Strickland trial had died away and the case itself 
 become part of history, that I learned something 
 of the conditions that obtained in the jury-room. 
 If they have any place in this account, the place is 
 here. 
 
 At the end of seven ballots, the verdict still 
 stood eleven for acquittal to one for conviction. 
 The "one" was the foreman, a certain Mr. Trum- 
 bull, a solid, hard-headed business man, once con- 
 vinced, almost impossible to move. 
 
 For more than an hour, the other eleven had 
 devoted their energies without any marked result, 
 
THE JURY DEBATES 301 
 
 to trying to convince Trumbull that he was in the 
 wrong. He had been perfectly unmoved by ap- 
 peals to his reason, to his common sense, and even 
 had submitted to being called "Pig-headed" with 
 entire composure. Finally, he had declared him- 
 self as perfectly willing to listen to reason for the 
 seventh time. 
 
 "Now, look here, Trumbull," began the gentle- 
 man selected (perhaps only by himself) to repre- 
 sent Reason, "what's the good of sending Strick- 
 land to the chair ? You don't bring Trask back 
 to life by doing it, do you"? All you do is kill 
 off a good, clean, straightforward chap who's a 
 valuable asset to the community. And who, 
 after all is said and done, suffers most? Not 
 Strickland ! His wife and his little girl a most 
 remarkable child! they're the real sufferers. 
 You throw a sensitive woman out on the world 
 and give a little baby a blot on her name that 
 she'll never be able to wipe out. What's your 
 idea? Why do you want to convict him 1 ?" 
 
 (It is, of course, understood that I do not pre- 
 tend that these were Reason's exact words. But 
 
302 ON TRIAL 
 
 this was the gist of the matter, as reported to me. 
 Naturally the same remark applies to everything 
 else that was said.) 
 
 "I don't want to convict him. I don't want to 
 be instrumental in sending any man to his death. 
 I guess I've got as much humanity in my compo- 
 sition as the rest of you," retorted Mr. Trumbull, 
 rather testily. "To hear you go on, a person 
 would think that I was fairly thirsting for Strick- 
 land's blood!" 
 
 "Well, then, why are you holding out? Why 
 don't you vote for acquittal?" 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the Foreman with dignity, 
 "it seems to me there's one thing you all overlook. 
 We're citizens as well as men. We've sworn to 
 do our duty as jurors, and to render a fair verdict. 
 We mustn't be swayed by personal sentiments. 
 We must govern ourselves entirely by the evidence 
 and by that alone. That's what we're here for 
 to render justice." 
 
 "But rendering justice means something more 
 than applying hard and fast rules of law," went 
 on Reason's spokesman. "I'll grant you that the 
 letter of the law declares that if one man kills an- 
 
THE JURY DEBATES 303 
 
 other, the penalty must be death. But we've got 
 to get beneath the letter. We must get at the 
 spirit. We're not just machines, you know. 
 There's more to this case than a mere mechanical 
 application of the law. We've got to attack this 
 from the human standpoint. We must try to put 
 ourselves in Strickland's place. Just consider 
 that for a moment. Suppose that Mrs. Strick- 
 land had been your wife, and Trask had been the 
 the other party. What would you have 
 done?" 
 
 "Shooting was far too good for Trask," chimed 
 in one of the other jurors. 
 
 "We mustn't forget the 'unwritten law,' " sug- 
 gested another. 
 
 "I don't agree with you there," interrupted the 
 spokesman of the occasion. "I don't hold for 
 the 'unwritten law,' as it is called, myself. Ordi- 
 narily, I don't believe that there's any justification 
 for taking a human life. But this case which we 
 are considering now, is one in a thousand. This 
 man Trask deliberately invaded his friend's home. 
 He wrecked it. The woman was helpless in his 
 hands. She had lived in terror of him for years. 
 
304 ON TRIAL 
 
 He knew that. He played on her helplessness. 
 That's why I am for acquittal. And that's just 
 why you should be for acquittal, too. Trumbull, 
 you have a wife. Now just consider " 
 
 "Hold on a moment," said another juror, inter- 
 rupting. "I think that you are going off at a 
 tangent. Unless I'm entirely mistaken, Trumbull 
 agrees with us that Strickland had ample justifi- 
 cation for killing Trask." 
 
 "Then why's he holding out*?" 
 
 "What's keeping him back?" 
 
 "Wait a minute; let's hear from Trumbull him- 
 self on this point." 
 
 "Mr. Moore is right," said Trumbull slowly. 
 "I do think that Strickland had cause for killing 
 Trask. If I had been placed in similar circum- 
 stances God help me! I probably would have 
 done the same thing." 
 
 "And still you vote for conviction." 
 
 "I vote for conviction, gentlemen, for the rea- 
 son that I'm not perfectly satisfied that Strickland 
 went to Trask's house to avenge his wife's honour. 
 I am inclined to think that he went there with an 
 entirely different purpose ; namely, to rob the safe, 
 
THE JURY DEBATES 305 
 
 and repossess himself of that ten thousand dollars 
 which he admitted had been 'so darned hard to 
 get.' " 
 
 "You can't really believe that, Trumbull. 
 One look at Strickland's face should be enough to 
 convince you that he's not a thief, a safe-cracker. 
 Of course, I don't know him personally. But I've 
 known him by reputation for a dozen or more 
 years. Ask any one in the business world what 
 his reputation has always been. They'll tell you 
 he's as straight as a die." 
 
 "I grant you all that, gentlemen. But you 
 can't dodge the facts. There's a chain of circum- 
 stances woven around Strickland that, to my mind, 
 would go far to damn the Angel Gabriel. Just 
 consider the facts with me for an instant. Strick- 
 land was hard pressed. Trask held his note for 
 ten thousand dollars. Apparently his only hope 
 of paying the note was to get an advance, or a 
 loan whatever you choose to call it from par- 
 ties in Cleveland with whom he had about con- 
 cluded a business deal. He goes away, knowing 
 that he will be absent the day the note falls due. 
 That in itself goes to show that he hadn't much 
 
3o6 ON TRIAL 
 
 chance of paying the note if the deal with the 
 Cleveland parties fell through. He comes back 
 two days late with the cash in his pocket, ready 
 to take up the note. 
 
 "I won't go as far as to say that he timed it so, 
 but the fact remains that he didn't reach home 
 until *after banking hours. Why didn't he wait 
 until morning and go and pay the note at the 
 bank, which would have been the usual thing to 
 do in the circumstances'? Add to that the fact 
 that he paid Trask the ten thousand dollars in 
 cash. Why did he pay it in cash 4 ? Did any one 
 of you familiar with his long business career ever 
 hear of his having done such a thing before ? Of 
 course you didn't. Nor did anybody else. 
 Why*? Because he never did such a thing before 
 in his life. It isn't a business man's way of con- 
 ducting his business. 
 
 "The presumption is that he knew that Trask 
 had a safe in his house. There doesn't seem to 
 have been any secret about it. And Strickland 
 was the only person beside Trask who knew the 
 combination of that safe. And he was unques- 
 tionably on the spot when the safe was opened. 
 
THE JURY DEBATES 307 
 
 Add it all up, and it looks pretty bad. Don't you 
 think so?' 
 
 "Of course it looks bad, but it's all been ex- 
 plained." 
 
 "It has, has it? Well, all I can say is that the 
 explanation hasn't reached me. If that is so, 
 there are two little points I'd like to have you ex- 
 plain to me. First, how did the burglar open the 
 safe?" 
 
 "Tampered with it, of course." 
 
 "No, he didn't. Two different police officers 
 testified that the tumblers were in perfect order. 
 No, gentlemen, the safe was opened with the com- 
 bination. And the only source from which he 
 could have learned the combination was Strick- 
 land. 
 
 "And that's not all, gentlemen. Remember, I 
 said there were two points I'd like to have ex- 
 plained. And they'll have to be explained to my 
 satisfaction before I cast my vote for acquittal." 
 
 "Well, what's the other one? Let's have it." 
 
 "Strickland had that combination on a card. 
 The card was the only real piece of incriminating 
 evidence against him in connection with the rob- 
 
308 ON TRIAL 
 
 bery. If he's innocent of the burglary, as you 
 say he is, why did he attempt to destroy that 
 card*?" 
 
 "How do you know he did?' 
 
 "I don't seem to remember anything about 
 that." 
 
 "Glover said so." 
 
 "That's right. I remember that." 
 
 "Moreover, gentlemen, here's the card." The 
 foreman got up and went over to the table, and 
 picked it up. "Look at it. Don't you see that 
 it's torn almost in two? And Glover testified 
 that it was Strickland that tore it. 
 
 "There's only one reason why Strickland should 
 have attempted to destroy this card. And that 
 was to wipe out the evidence that would be bound 
 to convict him." 
 
 Here the discussion became general. Several 
 of the jurors professed to be hazy, to say the least, 
 about the matter. Some remembered it quite dis- 
 tinctly. Others declared that they had not heard 
 it at all. 
 
 Some proposed to send for Glover and ask him 
 to repeat his testimony. 
 
THE JURY DEBATES 309 
 
 "We can't do that," the foreman reminded 
 him. "We'll have to get permission to have his 
 testimony read to us. If you like, I'll send in a 
 note to the judge. Ring for an attendant, one 
 of you." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 
 
 As it happened, I was in the court room chatting 
 with Dr. Morgan when I heard the whirr of the 
 electric bell that calls the attendants. The Dis- 
 trict Attorney was standing across the room with 
 one of the court stenographers. 
 
 "There's something doing, evidently," he 
 called. 
 
 "An agreement, do you think*?" asked Dr. Mor- 
 gan pleasantly. 
 
 "Most likely," replied Mr. Gray, with a side- 
 long look at me. 
 
 "How long have they been out*?" asked Dr. 
 Morgan. 
 
 "Almost five hours," said I, smiling. But the 
 smile was for Mr. Gray. 
 
 "Well, what do you think?' 
 
 Mr. Gray answered for me. 
 
 "I don't know what to think," I will say he 
 310 
 
MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 311 
 
 made the confession handsomely. "This is a 
 most unusual case." 
 
 And in saying that, he was not understating the 
 fact. 
 
 An attendant came out of the jury room bearing 
 a note, and hurried over to the judge's room. 
 
 I went out into the lobby in search of McLean. 
 Fortunately, he was not far off. "Go and bring 
 the ladies," I said in a low tone. It wasn't at all 
 necessary, in my opinion, to inform all the 
 loungers that I suspected that something was 
 about to happen. Let them find it out for them- 
 selves, the same way they found out so much that 
 never really took place ! 
 
 It was about five minutes later that an attend- 
 ant announced that the judge was coming. Every 
 one who had any official connection with the case 
 hurried to his place. As counsel, I was duly noti- 
 fied to see that the prisoner was brought in. 
 
 "All right, gentlemen," came the voice of the 
 attendant, as the jurors filed in and took their 
 places. 
 
 "Justice of the Court," announced the clerk. 
 And His Honour took his seat. 
 
312 ON TRIAL 
 
 At that moment Strickland, followed a moment 
 later by his wife and child, and his sister-in-law, 
 took his place at the table. I signed to McLean 
 and Miss Foley to find seats not far away. I had 
 an idea that the latter' s services might be required, 
 no matter what the verdict might be. Still, there 
 was no gainsaying that Mrs. Strickland had been 
 little short of marvellous. 
 
 The change in Strickland, himself, was note- 
 worthy. One would hardly have taken him for 
 the same man. He sat erect now, like a man who 
 was prepared to face the world whatever fate 
 might have in store for him. His eyes were no 
 longer half closed. And in them there was a light 
 not exactly of hope, not exactly of confidence, 
 and yet a blending of both which changed the 
 character of his face entirely. 
 
 I had the feeling and I am glad that I did him 
 justice in that that this change had little or 
 nothing to do with his own fate, now so soon to be 
 decided. Long afterwards he told me that the 
 relief which his wife's story had brought to his 
 mind was the cause of any change that I had noted 
 in him. Now that he knew that she was, and had 
 
MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 313 
 
 always been worthy of his devotion, his confidence 
 and his love, nothing else was of any consequence 
 by comparison. 
 
 Not that he did not wish to live, to leave that 
 room where he had passed so many hours of tor- 
 ture, a free man. He wished it more than ever. 
 For now he had a new ambition and purpose in 
 life : to devote himself wholly and entirely to the 
 woman who had considered her reputation before 
 the world as nothing when weighed in the balance 
 against his life. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the Court, addressing him- 
 self to the District Attorney and me, "I have re- 
 ceived a note from the jury, in which they request 
 that a portion of Glover's testimony be read to 
 them. 
 
 "Turn to Glover's testimony, please," he said 
 to the stenographer. "Now, read that portion 
 which pertains to the tearing of the card. Peo- 
 ple's Exhibit A." 
 
 The stenographer proceeded to read in that 
 even, colourless voice, which seems to be the 
 marked characteristic of all stenographers in my 
 observation : 
 
3H ON TRIAL 
 
 "Question by Mr. Gray: 'Now, Mr. Glover, 
 I call your attention to the fact that the card is 
 torn almost in half. Can you explain how that 
 occurred?' Answer: 'Yes; as I took the card 
 from Strickland's pocket, he snatched it out of my 
 hand, and started to tear it in half. Before he 
 had torn it all the way, I managed to get hold of 
 it again.' Question: " 
 
 "That's enough," said the foreman. 
 
 He turned to the other jurors, and for a mo- 
 ment they could be seen whispering together in an 
 animated manner. Meanwhile, Dr. Morgan, 
 who had not been present, it may be remembered, 
 while Glover was giving his testimony, came over 
 to where Gray and I were standing, his face blaz- 
 ing with excitement. 
 
 "Is that all, gentlemen?" asked His Hon- 
 our. 
 
 "One moment, if Your Honour pleases," re- 
 plied the foreman. After a short conference with 
 his fellow jurors, he said: 
 
 "Your Honour, the jury would like to ask Mr. 
 Strickland a few questions." 
 
MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 315 
 
 "Do you consent to the case being re-opened, 
 gentlemen?" questioned the Court. 
 
 "Yes, Your Honour," replied Gray. 
 
 "Mr. Arbuckle?" 
 
 "Yes, Your Honour." 
 
 A day earlier, I would have been put to it to 
 know what to say. Considering that my client 
 refused absolutely to give me the least aid in pre- 
 paring his defence, I would have been prepared 
 to have him show himself equally obstinate when 
 it came to the question of his taking the stand. 
 But to-day, I had reason to hope 
 
 "Mr. Strickland, are you willing to take the 
 stand?" asked the Court. 
 
 "Yes, Your Honour," said Strickland in a ring- 
 ing voice. 
 
 And my reasons are sound, I said to myself, 
 completing my own thought. 
 
 "What is your name?" asked the clerk, after 
 he had administered the oath. 
 
 "Robert Strickland." 
 
 And now the foreman took a hand. 
 
 "Mr. Strickland, several members of the jury 
 
316 ON TRIAL 
 
 have requested me to ask you why you attempted 
 to destroy the card with the combination to Mr. 
 Trask's safe on it." 
 
 "You need not answer that question unless you 
 want to," cautioned Judge Dinsmore. 
 
 "I didn't attempt to destroy it," said Strickland 
 simply. 
 
 "You mean that you didn't tear the card*?" 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "Do you know who did?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Did you know the card contained the combi- 
 nation to the safe?" 
 
 "Not until I heard it the other day in court. I 
 saw some figures on the card, but they had no sig- 
 nificance to me. I never thought of the card from 
 the time I looked at the address on it until I saw 
 it here in court." 
 
 "Do you mean that you didn't see or feel Mr. 
 Glover take it from your pocket?" 
 
 "No, sir, I did not. I was almost blind with 
 pain at the time." 
 
 "That's all." 
 
 Strickland stepped down. And his step had a 
 
MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 317 
 
 life and a lightness that it had lacked for many a 
 long day. 
 
 "With Your Honour's permission," I said, "I 
 will recall Dr. Morgan." 
 
 I never felt more serious in my life. And one 
 of the things that contributed to this state of mind 
 was my regret that McLean was not sitting where 
 I could see his face. 
 
 "Any objection, Mr. Gray?" 
 
 "No, Your Honour." 
 
 "Dr. Morgan," I asked, as slowly and impres- 
 sively as I could, when he had once more taken the 
 stand, "on the night of the shooting, did you ex- 
 amine the defendant?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. When I found that it was too late 
 to do anything for Mr. Trask, I turned my atten- 
 tion to Mr. Strickland." 
 
 "In what condition did you find him?" 
 
 "He was lying on his back on the floor in a 
 semi-conscious condition, moaning with pain." 
 
 "Did you examine his arm?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I examined it very carefully while 
 Mr. Glover, with the police officers were testing 
 the safe." 
 
3i8 ON TRIAL 
 
 "Will you describe the condition of the arm, 
 please?" 
 
 "The arm had been struck a terrific blow with 
 a heavy cane. The blow fell squarely on the 
 wrist, dislocating the wristjoint. Both bones of 
 the forearm the radius and the ulna were badly 
 fractured. It was the worst fracture I have ever 
 seen." 
 
 "Now, Dr. Morgan, in your opinion, could the 
 defendant have torn this card, as you see it here, 
 between the time his arm was broken and the time 
 you arrived?" 
 
 "He could not, sir. The hand was entirely 
 paralysed. It would have been a physical impos- 
 sibility, assuming even that his mental state would 
 have permitted of it. The bones haven't knitted 
 yet. At that time, he couldn't have moved the 
 arm or the hand a fraction of an inch." 
 
 "That's all, Dr. Morgan." 
 
 I waited a minute until Dr. Morgan had 
 stepped down, then I turned to Mr. Gray. 
 
 "Do you know where Glover is, Mr. Gray?" 
 
 "The last time I saw him, he was in my office, 
 reading," said Gray. 
 
MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 319 
 
 He seemed just a little sulky. 
 
 "Try to find Mr. Glover, please," I said to an 
 attendant. 
 
 Not even when Mrs. Strickland was on the 
 stand had there been a more tense feeling in the 
 court room. The very air was electric. 
 
 I rather plume myself upon not being suscepti- 
 ble to such influences as a rule. But I have to 
 admit that I felt it this time. It must be con- 
 fessed that there was a certain excitement about 
 it. 
 
 Supposing the obliging Mr. Glover I say 
 "obliging," for I know of no term that seems to 
 me to describe more fitly the air of cheerful will- 
 ingness which he habitually wore had wearied 
 of his reading and left my colleague's comfort- 
 able quarters? Supposing, even, that, as would 
 have been only natural to a young man of his 
 energy and intelligence, he had decided to look 
 for new fields for the employment of his talents'? 
 I had been given to understand that his connection 
 with the Trask family was at an end, Mrs. Trask 
 having no further use for his services. There was 
 nothing as far as I could learn to bind young 
 
320 ON TRIAL 
 
 Glover to New York. And youth has ever loved 
 adventure and change. 
 
 I turned and walked back to say a word to 
 Strickland. I was able, thus, to give McLean a 
 look. He was not at all downcast. On the con- 
 trary, his face wore a look that was nothing short 
 of malignant. I felt positively relieved to notice 
 that he was glaring at the door. Young Mr. 
 Glover might have had a bad quarter of an hour, 
 if he had met McLean alone in a forest, say ! 
 
 The very next second Mr. Glover appeared, 
 escorted by the attendant. I was glad to see him. 
 I had liked him from the first moment I had seen 
 him at the inquest. 
 
 "Will you be good enough to take the stand, 
 Mr. Glover 4 ?" I asked cheerfully. 
 
 Mr. Glover did so. 
 
 "I'm sorry to trouble you again, but there's one 
 little point upon which we're not quite clear, 
 and" 
 
 "I'll be glad to do anything in my power," in- 
 terrupted Mr. Glover. 
 
 His manner was affability itself. 
 
 "Thank you. You remember, Mr. Glover, 
 
MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 321 
 
 that while you were waiting for the police to ar- 
 rive you happened to think of this card which you 
 thought might help the police 4 ?" 
 
 "Yes, and I was right, too." 
 
 "Indeed, you were. Now, Mr. Glover, you 
 will recall that you proceeded to search Mr. 
 Strickland's pockets in the hope of finding this 
 card." 
 
 "Yes; and I found it." 
 
 There was a new note in Mr. Glover's voice 
 that had not been there before. Not exactly as- 
 sertiveness, not exactly aggressiveness; I should 
 say that it was just a shade nearer defiance. But 
 he was still going to be obliging. I felt convinced 
 that when he left the stand I should be in his debt. 
 
 "Precisely. It was in his coat pocket you 
 found it, I believe." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Which pocket 4 ?" 
 
 "Side pocket." 
 
 "Now, if you don't mind, I'd just like to have 
 you describe that scene once more in detail. 
 Where was Mr. Strickland?" 
 
 "He was on the floor, lying on his back," 
 
322 ON TRIAL 
 
 "And you were standing over him?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "On which side of him'?" 
 
 "The right side." 
 
 "And as you bent over him and went through 
 his pockets, did he make any attempt to prevent 
 you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; he tried to push me away." 
 
 "That is, he kept warding you off like this?" 
 I made a motion with my right arm "That 
 right?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Finally, however, you succeeded in getting the 
 card?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Let's see. That was in the left side pocket of 
 the coat, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Left side? Let me see. Yes." 
 
 "When you got the card, you straightened up, 
 didn't you, with the card in your right hand?" 
 
 "That's correct." 
 
 "But before you had the chance to get the card 
 out of his reach, he raised himself on his right 
 elbow, and with his left hand snatched the card 
 
MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 323 
 
 out of your hand. That's all right so far, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "If I'm wrong in any of these details, just put 
 me straight. My memory fails me sometimes." 
 
 "All right; I'll let you know when you make a 
 mistake." 
 
 "Good! Now there was something else. I 
 must ask you to be just a little patient with 
 me." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 His manner was growing more and more affa- 
 ble. 
 
 "Oh, yes! Strickland snatched the card. 
 Then he tore it. Now, how did he tear it?" 
 
 "How? What do ypu mean?" 
 
 "Well, I mean, did he tear it quickly, or slowly, 
 or" 
 
 "Well, rather quickly. Because I snatched it 
 back almost instantly." 
 
 "Just a moment now; I want to get this 
 straight. Strickland had the card in his left 
 hand like this. Right?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
324 ON TRIAL 
 
 "And he was supporting himself on his other 
 elbow like this. Yes?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then he made a quick backward movement- 
 like this tearing the card almost in half. Is that 
 it?" 
 
 "That's right." 
 
 "I see. And then you took the card away from 
 him?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And he threatened you, didn't he, as you took 
 the card?" 
 
 "Yes. He swore at me and said he'd fix me." 
 
 "And if I remember correctly, you said that he 
 made a quick pass for his revolver like this?" 
 
 "Yes; but it was out of his reach." 
 
 "That explains it all beautifully. You've 
 cleared up things for us, Mr. Glover. We're 
 greatly indebted to you." 
 
 "Not at all. Is there anything else?" 
 
 "No, I think that's all. Oh, just a moment." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Mr. Stenographer, will you read the latter 
 part of Dr. Morgan's testimony, please?" 
 
MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 325 
 
 He had started to leave the stand, when I had 
 asked for just one more moment. As I made my 
 request to the stenographer, I noticed that his ex- 
 pression altered slightly. He looked just a little 
 uneasy. I moved up closer to his side while we 
 both listened to hear what Dr. Morgan had had 
 to say. 
 
 "Question, by Mr. Arbuckle : 'Now, Dr. Mor- 
 gan, in your opinion, could the defendant have 
 torn this card, as you see it here, between the time 
 his arm was broken and the time you arrived 
 Answer: 'He could not.' Question: 'You are 
 sure of this?' Answer: 'Yes; the hand was en- 
 tirely paralysed. It would have been a physical 
 impossibility, assuming even that his mental state 
 would have permitted it. The bones haven't knit 
 yet. At that time he couldn't have moved his 
 arm or hand the fraction of an inch.' " 
 
 "Glover! What did you do with that ten 
 thousand dollars?" 
 
 "What are you talking about? What do you 
 mean? What ten thousand dollars?" 
 
 He was absolutely panic-stricken. 
 
 "Your Honour, I ask for a warrant for the ar- 
 
326 ON TRIAL 
 
 rest of this man as an accomplice to the murder of 
 Gerald Traskr 
 
 "No, no, Your Honour, it isn't true!" he 
 screamed. "I didn't kill him ! I didn't ! I took 
 the money, but I didn't kill him! Here's the 
 money !" He snatched it from the inside pocket 
 of his coat and actually held it out towards His 
 Honour. They looked to be the same crisp, new 
 bills that Strickland had handed over to Trask. 
 No doubt they were. "Take it, take it! I don't 
 want it! I'll plead guilty I'll go to jail! But 
 don't arrest me for the murder ! 
 
 "I'll tell how it happened, I'll tell everything. 
 I didn't know Strickland was coming. I planned 
 the robbery that night. When Trask gave me the 
 money, I put it in the safe, but I didn't lock the 
 safe. I left it open. He didn't notice it. Then 
 I came back for the money. I didn't know about 
 Strickland. It's God's truth! 
 
 "Mrs. Trask heard me come in. She came back 
 into the room and I choked her. But she's all 
 right. She's not hurt. That's not murder! I 
 got the money, then I saw Strickland come in. I 
 didn't know he was coming. I didn't. I swear 
 
MR. GLOVER OBLIGES 327 
 
 I didn't! Pin innocent! Pm innocent, I tell 
 you! I left the room. 
 
 "Then I heard the shot, and came back. It was 
 the first I knew of it. I'm innocent, I tell you! 
 Send me to jail. Give me twenty years I don't 
 care. But don't try me for murder ! I tore the 
 card so they'd think that Strickland had planned 
 the burglary. We weren't working together. 
 Ask him. He'll tell you we weren't. I didn't 
 know he was coming. Ask him. He'll tell you." 
 
 He suddenly darted from the stand and rushed 
 across to the table where Strickland was sitting. 
 
 "Strickland!" he shrieked, hammering the table 
 with his clenched fist, "tell them, tell them we 
 weren't working together!" 
 
 Strickland's curling lip was the most eloquent 
 of answers. 
 
 "Remove the man," ordered Judge Dinsmore. 
 
 "I didn't kill him! Don't railroad me! I'm 
 innocent, I tell you! Don't, don't!" 
 
 Two officers seized him and dragged him out of 
 the room. His frenzied screams could be heard 
 from far down the corridor. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE VERDICT 
 
 "You may resume your deliberations, gentle- 
 men," said the Court. 
 
 "We have agreed already, Your Honour." 
 
 It was the foreman of the jury who spoke. 
 
 "Robert Strickland!" commanded the clerk. 
 
 Strickland rose, and stood erect in his place. 
 His eyes were untroubled. But the lines about 
 his firm mouth deepened. Mrs. Strickland held 
 out her arms, and gathered Doris into them. 
 
 "Prisoner, look upon the jury; jury, look upon 
 the prisoner. 
 
 "Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon 
 a verdict?" 
 
 "We have," said the foreman. 
 
 "And how do you find, gentlemen?" 
 
 "We find the defendant not guilty." 
 
 I heard a wailing cry of "Robert !" 
 
 The next moment Strickland had his wife in 
 his arms. 
 
 THE END 
 
 328 
 

 
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