THE PROSECUTION AND THE PRISONER

The next day was Sunday, and I pa.s.sed it in restless impatience over the enforced idleness, occupying myself as far as I could with the newspaper reports of the Coroner's hearing.

I found much to read, but little to please me in them. With few exceptions they accepted the police version of the case, treating Winters almost as a convicted criminal and praising unstintedly, in some cases fulsomely, the work of the Inspector's department.

It was only necessary to scan their columns to learn that:

Winters bore a bad reputation, and had long been known to the police; that:

It was one of the most brutal murders in the annals of crime; that:

"The a.s.sa.s.sin coolly scanned his sleeping prey"--with an ill.u.s.tration of Winters peering in the window at White asleep on the divan; that:

"The foul deed was perpetrated while the unconscious victim slept"--with ill.u.s.tration; that:

"The prisoner stood mute under the fearful accusation"--with ill.u.s.tration; that:

It would be the first execution by the new sheriff, etc.

The maxim of the law--"that each man shall be deemed innocent till proved guilty"--was entirely disregarded by these tribunes of the people. Like bloodhounds on the trail, they gave tongue to notes that incited all men to the chase, including those who were to sit as judges without prejudice on the life of the quarry: they a.s.sumed Winters guilty till proved innocent and the possibility of such a contingency they did not even suggest.

I finally pushed the papers away from me in angry protest and spent the remainder of the day in vain effort to forget the subject.

Early Monday morning I hurried to the office eager to resume my work on the case.

I found awaiting me there a member of a law firm who gave me the not very welcome news that White had made me the sole executor of his will, a copy of which he handed me. I made an appointment with him to submit it for probate, and he left me to its perusal.

A few minutes sufficed for this, as it was simple and brief. After the usual clause, providing for payment of his debts, etc., he left all the rest of his property unconditionally to his cousin, Henry Winters, and then followed the unusual explanation that he did so, "as a late and imperfect reparation of a wrong."

In reflecting over this statement, I recalled that it had occurred to me on several occasions when White seemed worried and anxious to make a confidant of me that he was possibly remorseful over the injustice he fancied had been done Winters by the unequal division of his father's property, but for such striking evidence of the feeling as this expression evinced, I was not prepared.

This phase of the matter was of short interest to me, however, when I considered how seriously the words might affect Winters's chances of acquittal. In an apparent confession by the victim of a wrong done to the accused was furnished the strong motive of revenge, and if knowledge of the contents of the will could be brought home to him, the additional incentive, to the crime, of a much larger gain than a few hundred dollars.

Little had poor Arthur thought when he made that will, honestly trying, I was sure, to repair what he felt to be an injustice, that its consequences might prove so fatal to the man he meant to help. I put the paper away with a sigh: it was no time for unavailing regrets, if Winters was innocent and was to be saved, action was needed.

I received a summons at this moment from the District Attorney and went to his office in response. I found closeted with him Inspector Dalton and Detective Miles. A consultation over the case, which had now become of chief concern to the office, was in progress.

"Dallas," the District Attorney said to me, "I have just been congratulating the Inspector upon the excellent work of his department in the White murder case. I have read the report of the evidence before the Coroner's jury and find it very complete and strong. The Inspector tells me," he continued, "that the case is practically ready for trial, as seems true, and he urges prompt procedure. I have, therefore, ordered the case sent to the Grand Jury to-morrow, and we must then bring it to trial without unnecessary delay. In cases as serious as this one," he concluded, "the public as well as the reputation of this office demand quick justice and I mean to make an example of it."

"Winters," I suggested, "should be allowed a reasonable time in which to engage counsel and make preparation for his defence."

"Preparation for his defence," he answered, "can only mean the manufacturing of one, for he is evidently guilty: and while of course he must have time to secure a lawyer, it is not worth while to afford him time to work up an alibi or other plausible lie. A fortnight, I think, will be more than enough for all his purposes and I will arrange for such date with the court."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I was not entirely satisfied of Winters's guilt and would not be until at least all the missing money should be accounted for, but I remembered the deprecating indulgence with which he had received a similar suggestion about the ulster and refrained from commenting on it to him, I did, however, ask the Inspector how he accounted for the three missing bills.

He looked surprised at the question and a little taken aback, I thought, but replied confidently that White had most probably put them in the pocket of his ulster and left them with it at Belle Stanton's house.

"But," I said, "I did not understand from the testimony that they had been found there."

"No," he answered, "the housekeeper denied any knowledge of them when questioned on the subject, but that is hardly surprising and I think they will yet be traced to some inmate of that house."

"Well," said the District Attorney, "that seems reasonable enough, and I have no doubt will prove the case: and now, Dallas, if you will take hold of the case in conjunction with the police department and prepare it for trial, I will look after its early a.s.signment and be ready to conduct the prosecution. You will of course a.s.sist me in it."

I said, "Of course," nothing else occurring to me at the moment, but I had grave misgivings regarding the duty.

I then suggested that I see Winters and warn him to be prepared. This was agreed upon, and the Inspector, Miles, and myself departed together, leaving the District Attorney to give his time to some one of a hundred other important matters that demanded his attention.

The Inspector parted from us outside; Miles, at my request, accompanying me on my visit to Winters at the Tombs.

I wanted Miles with me, because I wished to consult him about some features of the case that I considered important, and which were not yet clear to me, and I meant to discuss them with him as we proceeded. I had been impressed not only with the natural cleverness of this man, but also with his disposition to be fair, and I felt sure that if he had observed the details that I had overlooked, no matter what their bearing might be on the case, he would give me truthful and unreserved answers.

I had the incident of the ulster in mind and thought if it should appear, as I expected, that White had worn it home that night when he returned after going out as the officer testified that I would then have gone a long way toward creating a doubt of Winters's guilt. So much indeed seemed to depend upon the answers to my questions that I put them with some trepidation as to the results.

After consideration I concluded it was best to let the detective see what was my purpose, so I opened the conversation by calling his attention to the fact that in the event that White, by any chance and contrary to the accepted opinion, had worn the ulster upon his return to the house, then some one else than he must have taken it to Belle Stanton's. I saw at once that Miles had grasped the full purport of the suggestion, and that it was unnecessary to enlarge upon it, so I continued:

"It was raining and if White returned without any outer covering it should have been evident from the condition of his clothes. How about them?" I was watching the detective while I talked and saw that he was giving me close attention and had antic.i.p.ated my question.

After a moment's thought, he said: "What you have been saying, Mr.

Dallas, had occurred to me too and I did observe his clothes as I always do in such cases, and they showed no signs of exposure to the weather.

In fact, I did not believe he had been out that night without some protection. Knowing, therefore, that though he had worn the ulster when he went out, he had apparently not worn it when he returned, I examined his umbrella, which stood near the door. This though unwrapped, suggesting recent use, was dry, but as it probably would have dried in the meanwhile in any case, I could draw no conclusions from the fact."

I interrupted him here to ask if White had had the umbrella with him when the night-officer saw him, and he said the officer reported that he had been in the act of raising an umbrella as he pa.s.sed him.

After a pause, he continued: "I did not stop, however, with the examination of his clothing and umbrella, but looked at the light patent-leather shoes he had on. They were new and the soles not even soiled. They had not, I am sure, been worn on wet streets. Next I looked for and found his overshoes nearby the umbrella: they had evidently been worn in rough weather and had not since been cleaned, but they too were dry and so did not prove anything."

"But," I asked, "what bearing could that have on the question any way?

He had certainly been out that night, for the officer saw him."

"Yes, the officer thought he saw him," he replied, "but officers are sometimes mistaken."

I saw his drift and also his oversight, as I thought.

"I am afraid you are off the track a bit, Miles," I said, "when you try to reason that the officer was mistaken and that White was not out that night. We have both for a moment overlooked a factor in the case that proves the contrary. Admitting," I continued, "that the officer might possibly have been mistaken as to the ident.i.ty of the man he saw leave the house, he was not mistaken about the ulster for it was taken by some one to Belle Stanton's, but whoever wore the ulster also wore the cap that matched it for the officer saw that too, and as the cap was back in the room in the morning, the wearer of it must have returned."

Miles nodded his a.s.sent. "Such being the case," I concluded, "the wearer must have been White, because no one else, certainly not the murderer, would have returned to the scene."

"That is true," Miles admitted; "I had forgotten about the cap."

"That being so then," I said, "I also maintain that he wore not only the cap, but the ulster when he returned, and that the ulster must therefore have been taken to Belle Stanton's by some one else, and at a later hour."

The detective shook his head. "I hardly think you have satisfactorily established the last proposition," he said, "for he might have returned with the cap though without the ulster."

"Well, we will see who is right," I answered, for I was not willing to abandon my theory.

Nothing more was said, and during the remainder of our journey I was absorbed in the intricacies of the case, and I think Miles was similarly engaged, for he seemed in a deep study. I was glad to think it so, for I wanted to thoroughly engage his interest, as I had determined to make him an ally. I felt that I could not handle the matter alone, for while I was willing and able, as I thought, to reason out all the abstractions involved, I must have expert a.s.sistance in the detective work to furnish me the material of facts with which to really accomplish anything.

I had no hesitation in using Miles in this way, for while I realized that its end was to establish, if possible, the innocence of the accused, which was contrary to the usual att.i.tude of a prosecuting officer, I, nevertheless, felt at that time and feel now that it is not the single duty of the prosecution to convict, but also, and even more importantly, its duty to see that each accused have every opportunity to prove his innocence and that there be no conviction if there be reasonable doubt of guilt. Sentiment has no place with the prosecution: charity should be dealt out with a sparing and discriminating hand, but justice should always be guarded, and above and before all, no innocent man should be convicted.