The prisoner sat in his accustomed place, a trifle more weary looking, a trifle more pathetically forlorn, than ever. At the tables in the enclosure sat Wilson Carter, the district attorney, a man keen and sharp as a brier, yet fair withal, and universally liked and respected; to his left, pale and nervous with the strain of waging a gallant but losing fight, sat young Harry Amory, a.s.signed by the court as counsel for the accused; and just behind Carter, next to the prisoner, as the parties most in interest, sat Gordon, Harrison, and Ethel Mason, the girl clothed in somber black, Gordon with a band of c.r.a.pe on his left arm.

The judge cleared his throat. "Counsel for the prosecution?" he said inquiringly, and Carter started to his feet. "Ready, your Honor," he replied, and the judge nodded. "You may proceed," he said.

Tall, erect, dignified, Carter stood waiting for just the moment of time necessary to have fixed upon him every eye in the court room.

Then, turning to the judge, he bowed. "May it please your Honor," he said respectfully, and then turned squarely face to face with the twelve jurymen.

"Mr. Foreman and gentlemen of the jury," he began, his tone earnest but agreeably informal and conversational, "before the brief summing up which I wish to make, there are two preliminary matters of which in a word I desire to dispose. First, I wish to compliment the members of the jury on the careful and conscientious manner in which they have listened now for three long days to the evidence in the case before them. I wish to say that I, for one, thoroughly appreciate the way in which they have attended to this branch of their duty, and I wish further to say that I shall leave the decision in this case to them with the greatest possible willingness and confidence, and that the summing up which it now becomes my duty to make will, in justice to them, be as brief as is possibly consistent with the grave importance of the issue involved.

"And secondly, I wish to say a word concerning the unfair prejudice--a prejudice, while in a way perfectly natural, still, as I say, distinctly unfair--which exists in the minds of many persons against the prosecuting officer in a case like the present. One who occupies a position such as mine, in a capital case where public interest is thoroughly aroused and public sentiment runs high, is not infrequently, as he brings forward evidence and argument to show that one of his fellow-beings should properly be condemned to death, regarded with a feeling akin to horror. In the ten years during which I have filled the office of district attorney for the county of Seneca, I have had the real sorrow of hearing myself referred to as a butcher, as a murderer, as a man who has delighted in his opportunities of sending unfortunates to the gallows. Now, Mr. Foreman and gentlemen of the jury, not so much in justice to myself, although that, too, is perhaps a perfectly natural desire, but rather in justice to the high and worthy office which I have the honor to hold, I wish it to be perfectly clear to you gentlemen that neither I nor any other prosecuting officer with a vestige of proper feeling and regard for the rights of mankind ever enters upon the conduct of a case like the present with any feeling other than a most earnest desire to see justice, absolute and final, done. If the accused in this case, after the hearing of the evidence and the arguments on either side, shall, upon the verdict of twelve good men and true, go forth again under G.o.d's pure sunlight, a free man, none will rejoice for him more heartily than I; if, on the other hand, you shall be satisfied that the accused is guilty of the crime with which he stands charged, and if upon your verdict he shall be sentenced to death, beyond the feeling of sorrow that I, together with every man in this court room, must share at the thought of a fellow-being paying the extreme penalty of the law, beyond and above that feeling, I say, is the more solemn thought that higher than the rights of any individual in the community, whether he be of high or low degree, stands the immutable law that first and before all else must be safeguarded and protected the rights of the town, the city, the county, the state and the nation; that unless safety of life, of liberty, of possessions, be made possible for our citizens, unless law and order be made to rank above deeds of violence committed in disregard of law, then the whole fabric of our nation must crumble, and the government of which we so proudly boast be reckoned little better than a mockery and a sham."

He paused for an instant, and then, simple, forceful, direct, began his final summing up.

"And now, Mr. Foreman and gentlemen of the jury," he continued, "briefly to review the facts in the case; briefly to summarize the evidence; briefly to outline the theory of the prosecution in regard to it. And first, the facts. On the seventeenth of December last, the bodies of James Mason, long a well-known and universally respected member of the town of Seneca, and of Miss Rose Ashton, the fiancee of Mr. Gordon, who has become well known to all of you since his residence here, and whom you heard yesterday upon the witness stand, were discovered by Mr. Harrison, James Mason's foreman, in the mine in which Mr. Mason had worked for so many years. Death in both cases had apparently been instantaneous, and had been produced by shooting, the medical examiner finding that both deaths had been caused by a bullet from a thirty-two caliber rifle or revolver.

"At the very outset it must be admitted that there is nothing in all the evidence which has been presented to you even savoring of direct proof as to how the deaths took place. It becomes necessary, therefore, to examine the case from the standpoint of what is commonly called circ.u.mstantial evidence, in order to see whether a chain can be constructed of sufficient strength properly to hold the man who has been brought before you, charged with the commission of the crime. And I shall not only not deny, but shall be the first to admit, what my learned brother in his closing argument will not fail to emphasize and reemphasize, that it is upon circ.u.mstantial evidence only that the case for the county must rest.

"First, then, we are faced with the very obvious fact that the deaths took place; of that there can be no question whatever. Next, going one step further, we come to the question involved in this trial: by whose hand was death inflicted? Could Mason have killed Miss Ashton and then shot himself, or even could Miss Ashton have killed Mason and then shot herself? In both cases the answer must be that such a supposition is not within the bounds of possibility. Not only can no possible motive be found, but on the evidence neither party had a weapon, and such a wild explanation of the case may be dismissed as soon as raised.

"The inquiry, therefore, unavoidably narrows down to the theory of murder. Murder by whom? The most exacting search has brought to light seven persons who were anywhere in the vicinity on the afternoon of December the seventeenth, or who were in any way connected with the events of that afternoon. These persons are Abe Peters, and his two helpers, Marston and Ferguson, Mr. Gordon, Jack Harrison, Ethel Mason, and the prisoner at the bar, William Hinckley. Proceeding on the theory of elimination, we find that in the case of the first six persons mentioned we have a complete alibi. Abe Peters and his helpers have testified that they were at work in their claim during the whole of the seventeenth. There is no shadow of evidence to the contrary; they were in one another's company during the entire day, and, furthermore, the friendly relations between these three men and Mason was matter of common knowledge throughout the county. Mr. Gordon, as he has testified, was obliged to go over the mountain on the day in question to transact some business with the superintendent of the Iroquois mine. Every moment of Mr. Gordon's time is accounted for; his testimony is absolutely straightforward and sincere, and, in addition, the bare idea of a man of Mr. Gordon's standing and character even dreaming of killing his friend and the young lady to whom he was engaged to be married is absolutely unthinkable. Jack Harrison, whose testimony is corroborated in every detail, has testified that he went to town on some errands for Miss Mason; and Miss Mason herself remained quietly at home, busied with her household duties, until, on Harrison's return, no word coming from the mine, they became alarmed, went to investigate, and discovered the tragedy that had been enacted.

"And now, Mr. Foreman and gentlemen of the jury, we come at last to the consideration of the case against the prisoner, and here, for the first time, we find a chain of evidence, circ.u.mstantial, to be sure, but in every link so firm and true that it can not by any possibility be broken--a chain of evidence which leads indisputably to the conclusion that the murderer of James Mason and Rose Ashton sits here before you now, the perpetrator of as dastardly a crime as has ever marred the records of our county. The prisoner's story is absolutely unbelievable. He claims that he remembers seeing Mason and Miss Ashton enter the mine, that shortly afterwards he ate his lunch, and that he must have then dozed oft; to sleep, remembering nothing more until Harrison, coming to see what had become of the missing victims, shook him back to consciousness. Certainly an improbable story, even on its face, but in the light of other evidence, clearly appearing as a clumsy lie, an excuse for not being willing to lay himself open to the danger involved by permitting a more extended field for cross-examination.

"Mr. Harrison's testimony is clear and concise. He has told us that, on reaching the entrance to the mine, he found Hinckley in a drunken stupor, an empty whisky bottle by his side; that being only partially successful in his efforts to arouse him, he went at once into the mine, descended to the fifth level, where he found Mason's body; then to the sixth, where he found Miss Ashton's; that on his return to the mouth of the mine he found Hinckley still only half aroused; that, upon taking away his revolver and examining it, he found two of the five chambers empty; and that the revolver was a thirty-two caliber.

The expert testimony, as you scarcely need to be reminded, has shown that the bullets which killed the two victims fitted with exactness the revolver with which Hinckley was armed. In addition, Miss Mason, who accompanied Mr. Harrison as far as the entrance of the mine, has corroborated his testimony in every detail. Now take, in addition to this evidence, the testimony that Hinckley's work had been far from satisfactory; that since he had gone to work he had persistently got drunk, and several times neglected his duty; that he had on at least two occasions had words with Mason himself, and that on the latter of these occasions he had sworn at Mason, and said that he would 'square up with him some day.' Take all this testimony together, and is not what happened on the afternoon of December seventeenth pretty plainly to be imagined? 'Nothing but theory' perhaps my learned brother may say, and this of necessity is so, for the prisoner will not speak, and from the mute lips of James Mason and Rose Ashton the story of the tragedy we shall never learn. 'Nothing but theory,' and yet how plainly we can see it all. Mason, on coming to the mine, has further words with Hinckley; Hinckley, perhaps even then partly drunk, later, emboldened by a further drink or two, creeps down on to the fifth level, treacherously shoots and kills Mason from behind, and then, in terror at what he has done, kills Miss Ashton also, and returns to the mouth of the mine. In doubt as to what means to take to escape detection, he desperately turns to the flask again, and before he knows it, his sodden brain loses consciousness altogether, and thus Harrison finds him.

"Gentlemen, I have finished. The facts are all before you; all the evidence is in. I have striven, as best I could, fairly and impartially to present to you the case for the county. The learned counsel for the defense, following me, will present the prisoner's side of the case. His Honor will instruct you as to the law; the burden of proof, the sufficiency and weight of the evidence, the different degrees of murder--my last word to you is to remember that in presenting the case for the prosecution I am acting simply in discharge of a duty, that justice is all I ask, and that justice from you--a careful, just, impartial verdict--is all that the county has a right to ask, and all that the county has a right to expect."

Amid a dead silence he resumed his seat. On jury and on spectators alike the effect of his plea could scarcely be mistaken. Young Amory, following, did his best, but facts that no process of reasoning could satisfactorily explain away, at every turn blocked the path of his argument and robbed it of its force. The judge charged clearly, briefly, impartially; the jury remained out but two hours and a half, and in accordance with their verdict of murder in the first degree, Bill Hinckley, some three months later, was duly and properly hanged by the neck until he was dead.

CHAPTER IX

THE PUBLIC EYE

"After that?" repeated Doyle. "Well, after that for three years I did newspaper work; then I was appointed Governor Parker's private secretary; he was in office two years; and then I had an offer from Henry Eastman, of Eastman and Peabody, and I went with him as confidential clerk, and have been with him since a year ago last month. And that, I guess, is about the whole story."

Gordon leisurely drained his gla.s.s, glancing once more with appreciation about the familiar little room. The return to civilization and the Federal Club had not been unwelcome. Then, with deliberate scrutiny, he gazed at the young man who sat opposite.

Slender, wiry and muscular, Doyle's thin, alert, sensitive face seemed a fit index to the whole make-up of the man. Limited to one word in which to describe him, that word would have been "energy." Twinkling brown eyes, an aggressive chin, a mouth firm and resolute, but with a humorous droop at the corners, all in all Jim Doyle appeared not to be one of those men who are content with viewing the world from a distance, spectators detached, remote, but one who was perforce most decidedly in and of it, rubbing elbows with it, slapping it on the back, and asking after its health with all the friendly good-nature imaginable.

"Well," said Gordon judicially, "you've made a good record for yourself. There's no question about that at all. You've been something of a rolling stone, to be sure, but in the process you've managed to gather considerable moss. You're getting five thousand dollars a year, and from what I hear, I judge you're earning it, too, which doesn't always mean the same thing. And yet I want you to leave your nice, comfortable job, and try your luck with me. And," he added deliberately, "I think you'll come, too."

Doyle's face showed no surprise. For him, indeed, variety had been the very spice of life, and with each succeeding change in occupation and in fortune, his capacity for being astonished had grown correspondingly less. Therefore he simply waited, not without interest, and after a moment's pause, Gordon continued.

"I rather think," he said banteringly, "that I'll show you all the advantages of the proposition first, with the intention of thus dazzling your mind so that you'll be in a hurry to accept, without thinking of the possible objections that might occur to you later on.

It seems almost too much luck for one man. You'll think, when you hear about it, that I've been lying awake nights planning it for you, and, to be frank, that's more than half true, too."

He paused again, meeting Doyle's amused glance with an answering smile. "I can see you're pleased," he said, "and I won't keep you in suspense any longer. I want you to come with me in a position which will bear the same name as the one you now occupy, confidential clerk.

But the name's the only thing that's the same. In reality you're going to be something entirely different; advertising agency, publicity bureau, whatever name of that kind you choose to call it; and, seriously, it's going to be the chance of your life."

Doyle looked interested, and a trifle puzzled as well. "How?" he asked tersely.

"How?" repeated Gordon, "I'll tell you how mighty quick. First of all, except that you'll be in close touch with me all the time, you'll be your own master, free to come and go as you like. Next, you'll run up against a lot of different men, all working in different lines, but all useful to know; men who, if they take a notion to, can help you along like the very devil. Third, the position pays ten thousand a year salary, and if you're inclined to take an occasional flier in the market, there's no reason why you shouldn't double that. But that's your business, of course. Good men differ on the wisdom of playing the market, even from what seems to be the inside. The ten thousand, however, like the past, is secure. So there's your story. What do you think of it?"

Doyle leaned back in his chair, with a little puzzled frown. "It's a trifle vague, isn't it?" he said mildly; "not the salary end; that's refreshingly definite, but the duties, I mean. What is it I advertise?

Fish, or toothpowder, or soap?"

Gordon laughed, then suddenly grew grave. "I beg your pardon," he said, "I got ahead of my story for a moment. It's going to be a worse job than any of those you've mentioned, for you've got to advertise me. Here's the idea right here. For certain reasons, which will develop later, I want to get myself very much before the public. It's going to help me, and incidentally, if you decide to come in with me, it's going to help you. Now let me be sure I make myself plain. It isn't any cheap notoriety I'm after; what I want is a big public following, especially among the so-called lower cla.s.ses. I want you to get me so well known, and so favorably known, through the city, through the state, through the country, even, that the great ma.s.s of the people, clerks, artisans, working people of all descriptions, will say, 'Here's a man that's all right. Here's a man we're willing to follow!' When that's once accomplished, I've got a number of different things in view. The others I needn't bother you with now, but the first is in connection with a big mining deal, which I want to try as a test of how strong I really am with the public, besides at the same time cleaning up a couple of millions or so on the side. So you can see that your end of the thing's no joke; it's a big job; there's no question about that. What I want to know is whether you think you're the man for the place. Personally I believe you are. What do you say?"

Doyle leaned forward confidentially across the table, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. "Mr. Gordon," he said, "I'm so d.a.m.ned modest that I hate to tell you what I think, but since you've asked me, I can only say that I entirely agree with you. I think I can make good on the job, but you won't go up in the air if I ask you one question first?"

Gordon smilingly shook his head. "No, I'll promise that," he answered; "fire away."

Doyle pondered a moment. "The two best things," he said slowly, "that I ever heard Mr. Eastman get off were these. One was on a matter where a crowd of street railway men, to round out their system, had to get a franchise to run through a little town. It was something they had to have, and there was a lot of discussion as to the best way to go about it. All sorts of things were proposed, until finally Mr. Eastman spoke up. 'The real point, gentlemen,' he said, 'is a simple one. All we've got to do is to act and talk and even look so straight that they'll finally say, "These fellows are so d.a.m.ned fair and so d.a.m.ned reasonable about this thing that we'd better let 'em have their franchise."' Well, one or two of the smart Alecs in the crowd, the kind that think because they're rotten themselves, every one else is rotten, too, kind of gave him the laugh; thought he was a little simple minded and out of date on the thing. Finally, though, they let him engineer it his way, and it went through flying, just as nice as could be. The other time was on a big consolidation scheme, and there was a lot of discussion about including a particular statement in a report that was going to be made to the public. One man thought it would affect the public favorably; another thought it would make a good impression on the stock-holders; one or two spoke against it; then they called on Mr. Eastman for his opinion; he was for it, and he said so; he summed up the points that had been made in favor of making it public, and then in conclusion he said in that dry way of his, 'And I think, gentlemen, that on this proposition you forget what is to my mind the most important point of all; that besides all the other good things that may be said of this clause, it has the additional merit of being true.' Most of them thought he was joking, I suppose, but I knew mighty well he wasn't, and the result of the thing showed that he was right again, as he generally is.

"So, according to my ideas, picked up partly from watching him, and partly on the outside, the only thing that'll really go with the general public in the long run is honesty, either real or imitation, and the trouble with the imitation kind is that it doesn't last very long before it begins to show wear. And that's why I'd like to ask you right out plain, without meaning any insult, whether this mining deal and the other schemes are fakes or not. Not because I've got any conscience; I never had much, to start with, and since I've got into things down town a little, I haven't any at all, but I mean just as a matter of business policy. You might put a fake deal through, and come out flying, but I wouldn't want to go into it myself unless it was straight."

He paused suddenly, refilled his gla.s.s, and then added, "After which, you probably think I'm several kinds of a d.a.m.n fool."

Gordon laughed with thorough enjoyment. "On the contrary," he said, "I find all the good reports I've had on you being borne out. You've got the right idea on these things, or, at least, you've got the same ideas that I have, which with most people means the same thing. No, I'm glad to say that these schemes of mine are all straight as a string. On the mining deal, of course there'll be inflation, and the usual amount of legitimate stock market manipulation, and also, too, you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs, and some of the general public will undoubtedly suffer, as they always do, for being fools enough to speculate. But in a general way, the proposition's perfectly legitimate, and I think without further discussion on that point we'll agree that you're the man I'm looking for. Now there are two other things I want to get straightened out. First, this advertising scheme. Is it feasible? Can it be successfully carried out?"

Doyle thought a moment only. His active brain had been busied with so many projects, real and imaginary, in his brief span of life, that it was hard very greatly to surprise him. He nodded a.s.sent.

"Why, sure," he rejoined succinctly, "it can be done, all right, but, if we do it the way it ought to be done, it's going to cost you money; a whole lot of money."

Gordon looked his approval. "Yes," he answered, "I know it, and of course I shouldn't think of going into it at all if I wasn't ready to foot the bills. I'm in condition, however, financially, to meet almost any expense within the bounds of reason. So much for that. Now here's the final consideration. We've agreed that you're the man for your end of this thing, and we've agreed that with the right man to run it, the advertising campaign can be carried on to advantage. Now, how about the man who's to be advertised. Are there any reasons why I won't go down with the public? If there are, now's the time to tell me about them, instead of later. Go ahead, now; pick me to pieces; I give you leave."

Doyle shook his head in decided negative. "You needn't worry a minute over that," he answered positively, "you've got every card in the pack. All we've got to do is to play 'em right. First, you see, you're from the swell end of town, and that helps to start with. Some people it might discourage. You know some folk that get their ideas mostly from books really believe that the rank and file want one of their own kind to lead 'em. That's the worst rot going. The common people get jealous when they see one of their own getting ahead too fast. 'That fellow,' they say, 'he's no good. Why, he used to live on the same street as me.' And a poor man's got nothing against a rich man that treats him half way decent. He envies him, of course, but he doesn't hate him; and a man like you, if he goes at it right, can get the kind of following he wants quicker and better than the man that's been raised right up among the gang. I know that for a fact.

"And, then, Mr. Gordon, you've got the coin, too. Of course that isn't everything, by any means. Lots of men are so unpopular that all the coin in the world can't help 'em any, but there's some people that have got to be reached with the long green, and that can't be reached any other way on earth. You've got to show 'em before they'll be with you.

"Finally, you're a business man, and you know every dollar's made up of a hundred cents, and that's going to save you from getting soaked a lot. No, Mr. Gordon, there's nothing to stop you that I can see; nothing in the world."

Gordon checked on the fingers of his left hand with the index finger of his right. "Let's see, then," he reflected slowly, "one's all right, and two's all right, and three's all right; so far, so good.

And now we come to the part where I'll confess my ideas are altogether vague, and where I've got to rely on your judgment and experience. And that's on the practical details of this advertising scheme. With a free hand, what would you do?"

There was no hesitation about Doyle. At once he attacked his subject with the relish of an epicure about to enjoy a feast. "Well," he said, "of course, to begin with, there's no way of reaching the general public like the newspapers. It's a fact that most people, even intelligent, well informed people, most of all, people in upper society, don't begin to have the faintest idea of the influence of the one-cent dailies; and I tell you, Mr. Gordon, there are tens of thousands of people in this country who take every word they read in one of those papers for gospel truth; more than likely it's the sum total of all they ever do read. So first of all we want to get control of a paper, and then we can print what we please. Some people might tell you that a weekly or a monthly magazine would answer your purpose better, but it isn't so. That would do well enough for a second string, so to speak; you'd reach a little different cla.s.s of readers that way, and that would help; but what we really want first of all is to own or control a good one-cent daily that gets right to the people, and that gradually gets you before the people in as many different ways as possible. Then finally one story or another gets the eye of the men on the other papers, and finally you're good copy--for a while, at least, until something comes along to eclipse you--from one end of the country to the other. That's the way we'll work that."

Gordon nodded. "That sounds all right," he said approvingly, "but I suppose it's got to be done with a lot of tact. With some people there can't be such a thing as publicity without criticism."

Doyle leaned quickly forward across the table. "I know exactly what you mean," he exclaimed, "and I know exactly the kind of people you mean, too. You mean the conservative, ultra respectable men you meet here every day at the Federal, for instance; the cla.s.s that thinks if your name appears in print anywhere outside the society column, it's deucedly bad form, you know, most extraordinary sort of thing, my dear chap, on my word."

He mimicked successfully, and Gordon laughed. "Yes, you've hit it," he answered, "but these same men are powers in the city, and I should hate to lose their regard, as I suppose I undoubtedly should by any such campaign as we propose."

Doyle nodded. "You certainly would," he replied; "but, Mr. Gordon, it's a choice you've got to make. It's simply inevitable. To paraphrase Lincoln, you can suit part of the people all of the time, and you can suit all of the people part of the time, but you can't suit all of the people all of the time. It's absolutely impossible; and the choice to make is to see where you'll really get the true following. Jefferson made the choice, and I suppose he wasn't really exactly popular in good Federalist society, but when he wanted a thing, he only had to go to the people for it, and he got it. He knew where the country's real strength lay, and you can't do better than copy him. It's the so-called common people you want to have back of you, and it's the common people's battle you want to fight, and the common people's ideas of what's right and proper that you want to study over. That's what you've got to make up your mind to."