Three millions! or, The way of the world
upon it. The contents of the pockets were various. A porte-monnaie
and a pocket-book, both of which contained the name of the deceased,
established the identity of Mr. Buckstone. But the most interesting and
conclusive testimony obtained upon the headless trunk consisted of a
couple of letters. They were soaked with water, but their contents were
still legible after they had been dried in the sun.
The coroner’s jury, having “viewed the body” in due form of law, went
over to the Town Hall to hear the case, and make up their verdict,
while the remains were placed in the care of an undertaker. When the
inquest was opened, the doctors were first called upon for their
testimony. What was purely surgical we have already given. Dr. Bilks
added to his evidence some portions of the conversation which had taken
place between Dick Birch and himself the preceding evening. He had
advised Mr. Birch to tell the whole truth, which Mr. Birch declined to
do. Mr. Birch had asked his advice in regard to his future course, and
he (Dr. Bilks), having, of course, no idea that he was implicated in
the murder, had advised him to leave Poppleton.
“Did Mr. Birch deny that he was the person with the deceased?” asked
the coroner.
“He did, but not with so much energy as formerly,” replied the doctor.
“What was your impression, derived from this interview?”
“I am not willing to give my impressions; they might injure Mr. Birch,
who has been, and still is, my friend; but I told him I was afraid he
was more deeply implicated than any one yet suspected.”
“And you advised him to leave town--did you?” continued the coroner.
“I did; but, as I said before, I did not suspect him of complicity in
the murder.”
Dick Birch was almost stunned by this evidence, so glaringly false, his
real words so purposely twisted to meet the villain’s ends. By this
time Eugene Hungerford had arrived. He was summoned to the stand the
moment he entered the room. He testified as at the examination.
“Mr. Hungerford, you were afraid Ross Kingman would kill Buckstone if
he met him?”
“I was; but I had no suspicion that Buckstone was in Poppleton, then.”
“Did you mention your fears to Mr. Birch?”
“I did.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing of any consequence.”
The letters were produced. They were directed to “Mr. Eliot Buckstone,
New York City,” and one of them bore the post-mark of Poppleton; the
other was from Providence. The Poppleton letter was opened and read by
the coroner. The last part of it was as follows:--
If you will marry the girl again, I will insure you five thousand
dollars, and possibly you may have double that sum. Come and see
me, at all events. Leave the train at Newington, and come over
privately--after dark. Don’t fail to come.
Yours truly,
RICHARD BIRCH.
Hungerford was shocked, stunned, overwhelmed. This letter had been
taken from the pocket of the dead man by the sheriff.
“I did not write that letter, Hungerford,” said Dick, calmly, as he was
called to the stand.
“You are a lawyer, sir; I need not tell you that you are not bound to
criminate yourself,” said the coroner.
“You need not,” replied Dick, significantly.
“Did you write this letter?”
“I did not.”
“It bears your signature.”
“Will you let me look at it?”
It was handed to him.
“This is not my writing.”
“Did you ever write a letter to Mr. Buckstone?”
“I did.”
“More than one?”
“Only one.”
“What was it about?”
“I wrote it at Ross Kingman’s request. I threatened Buckstone with a
criminal prosecution.”
“Did you look at the envelope of this letter?”
“The superscription is in my handwriting. The date in the post-mark
is not legible; but I have no doubt this envelope is the one in which
I sent the only letter I ever wrote to Mr. Buckstone. This is not my
writing, though it looks something like it, and the paper is different
from that I always use.”
Dr. Bilks gave a sudden start, as though he had thought of something
forgotten or neglected. Hungerford saw him, and without signifying his
intention to any one, left the hall. Dr. Bilks soon followed him.
The evidence was all heard, and the jury began to consider their
verdict. The body was that of Eliot Buckstone; he had been killed by
Ross Kingman. So far they had no doubt. One of the six men suggested
that the verdict should include the name of Richard Birch, who aided
and abetted in the murder. The others would not agree to it; the
evidence did not justify such a verdict. Birch might be an accessory
after the fact, for he must have aided in mutilating and concealing the
body. Another intimated that Birch had gone over to the island, and
induced Buckstone to meet Ross Kinsman, believing that he would murder
him. Birch left the hall before the verdict was made up, confident that
he should be arrested within a few hours.
CHAPTER XX.
THE SHADOW AT PINE HILL.
Eugene Hungerford went to the office of Dr. Bilks when he left the town
hall. Even the tremendous assaults made there upon his faith in Dick
Birch had not shaken the citadel. The testimony of his friend in regard
to the letter was suggestive to him, and he determined to act without
delay. The look and the start of Dr. Bilks had not escaped his notice.
Dr. Bilks’s office was not closed; for he kept a boy to take care of
his rooms, run of errands, and receive messages during his absence.
Eugene walked in, went to the desk, and taking a half quire of paper
from a shelf, proceeded to write a note to Julia; not that he had
anything to say to her, but simply for the purpose of obtaining a sheet
of the paper for future use. While he was thus engaged, Dr. Bilks, who
had left the town hall a moment later, entered the office.
“Ah, Mr. Hungerford!” exclaimed the doctor.
“How do you do, doctor? I have taken the liberty to use your desk for a
moment, in writing a note to my sister.”
“Certainly; but I am afraid you find no proper materials for writing.”
“O, yes. Here is a whole ream of paper on this shelf,” replied
Hungerford.
“But that is very poor paper. Let me provide you with some better.”
Dr. Bilks had half a ream in his hand, which he had just purchased. He
opened the package, and insisted that his unwelcome visitor should use
some of it.
“That is very good paper, doctor; but I like this better,” replied
Eugene, as he folded up his note, which included an extra sheet, and
hastily thrust it into an envelope.
“Do me the favor to use some of this paper. It is a whim of mine; but
you will indulge me,” added the doctor, whose ill-concealed emotion did
not escape the keen glance of the visitor.
“This paper exactly suits my purpose, doctor. I am very much obliged to
you; but it is my whim to send the note just as I have written it.”
Dr. Bilks would probably have said a great deal more if Parkinson had
not at that moment entered the office, and interrupted the conversation.
“I’ve been looking for you, Mr. Hungerford,” said the man. “Mrs.
Hungerford sent me down to tell you that Mr. Lester, from Baltimore,
had just arrived.”
“Mr. Lester!” exclaimed Dr. Bilks, apparently very much annoyed at the
intelligence.
“Do you know Mr. Lester, Dr. Bilks?” asked Eugene.
“I do not. I am acquainted with his son, who was in college with me, as
I told you.”
“I will return soon,” said Eugene to the servant.
Dr. Bilks had thrown himself into a chair, and looked like a man who
was discouraged--like a man who had purchased half a ream of paper,
which could be of no earthly service to him.
Hungerford had accomplished his mission at the doctor’s office. As he
went out, he saw Sandy McGuire going in.
“Do you wish to see me, Sandy?”
“No, your honor.”
“You are not ready to tell the truth yet.”
“I am, faix! Sure, it’s nothin but the blessed truth I been tellin your
honor from the big’nin.”
Eugene left him. Sandy had not yet seen the doctor, who, in
Hungerford’s opinion, would give one half of all he had in the bank for
the paper on which the note to Julia had been written, and the other
half to keep Sandy’s tongue still.
Dick Birch was just coming out of the town hall, when Eugene joined him.
“Where are those letters, Dick?” demanded Hungerford.
“The coroner has them.”
“I must see him.”
“Hungerford, I shall be arrested before night,” said Dick, with
wonderful calmness.
“Arrested!” exclaimed Eugene, to whose mind such a proceeding had not
yet presented itself.
“The sheriff, the coroner, and the jury, in my opinion, think I had a
hand in the murder. Hungerford, the shadow darkens over me. I am the
man who cut off Buckstone’s head after he was killed, and I sank the
body in the channel.”
“You!”
“They think so.”
“Dick, there is my hand; my heart is in it. You understand me.”
“I do!” exclaimed Birch, as he grasped the offered hand. “One such
friend is all I ask.”
Dick was more deeply moved than Hungerford had ever observed him to be
before.
The coroner’s jury were still engaged in discussing the verdict.
Hungerford saw the sheriff, and procured the Poppleton letter. The
paper was the same as that on which Eugene had just written the note to
his sister. The quality, ruling, and stamp were identical, and there
was room to believe that the letter to Buckstone had been written in
Dr. Bilks’s office. Several notes written by Mr. Birch were found. They
were not written upon this paper.
In half an hour Dr. Bilks appeared again. He was apparently desperate.
The case was not working right, and he had come to look after it. He
heard what was said about the paper. He laughed at it. Probably Mr.
Birch had written the letter in his office; he was often there; and
Mr. Birch would not deny that he had frequently written letters at his
desk. If it did not look exactly like Mr. Birch’s usual handwriting, it
was probably because he had used a pen to which he was not accustomed.
No one could say that the stained and hardly legible letter was not
written by Mr. Birch.
“Mr. Sheriff,” said Dr. Bilks, when he had disposed of the letter to
his own satisfaction, “I came here for another purpose. I have come to
acknowledge that I made a great mistake.”
Everybody looked at the doctor.
“If not too late, I should like to add something to my testimony--
something of the utmost importance.”
The coroner was informed of the fact, and the case was reopened. Dr.
Bilks was put upon the stand.
“I am obliged to leave town early in the morning, for New York. I shall
return in a week. Before I go, I wish to set myself right with God and
man; for I have done wrong.”
People thought that the doctor was very conscientious, and wondered
what could rest so heavily upon his mind.
“You wish to correct your testimony?” said the coroner.
“Not to correct it--to add to it. Mr. Birch has been my best friend in
Poppleton.”
Everybody knew this to be true.
“I am very grateful to him for his kindness to me. My feeling has
been that I would rather die than injure him. That was my feeling
when I stood on the stand. I have not told the whole truth. I confess
it with shame; but it was only to save my friend from disagreeable
consequences. On the night of the murder, I saw Mr. Birch, as I drove
along the Point Road, with Buckstone. I have kept this back before.”
“Why did you keep it back?”
“Because I preferred that Mr. Birch’s connection with Buckstone, since
he denied it, should be proved by others.”
But even this strong evidence did not create much sensation. It only
added another grain of testimony to what everybody believed before.
“Do you know when Mr. Birch returned from The Great Bell?”
“I do not.”
Dr. Bilks had conquered. Dick Birch was arrested, and hurried off to