Three millions! or, The way of the world
“I believed it was. When I heard you spoken of as the wealthiest man in
this part of the country, I did not despair. It was only when you were
cold to me, when you told me we could be only _friends_, that my heart
gave up its guest. I did not blame you. I was not a fit mate for one
like you. I was not then; still less am I now.”
Mary wept.
“I did not say we could be only friends, Mary.”
“That was what you meant,” sobbed she.
“Far from it.”
“I thought so. This, and being driven from my father’s house, made me
listen to Mr. Buckstone. He loved me--at first; at least, I supposed he
did.”
“Mary, I am the author of all your miseries and misfortunes.”
“O, no, Mr. Hungerford!”
“I am; if I had spoken the thought that was in my heart, all this could
not have happened. Let me atone for my fault by making you mine now.”
“Never, Mr. Hungerford! I should despise myself if I could be so
selfish. You know what I am,” said she, bitterly.
“Mary, I love you still.”
“Nay, you cannot love me now.”
“With all my soul. I could have wished that nothing had come between
you and me; but I still love you. Why should we be separated?”
“I can hear no more, Mr. Hungerford;” and she started to leave the
arbor.
“Do you hate me now because I did not speak when I should have spoken?”
“I never blamed you for turning away from me when your position in
society was so changed.”
“It was not changed, Mary. I ask nothing now. Perhaps it was wrong for
me to speak of these things at the present time, but my heart would not
be silent.”
“Mr. Hungerford, this subject is painful to me. May I ask you not to
speak of it again?”
“Never?”
“After my brother’s trial, I will give you a final answer.”
“I am satisfied, Mary.”
They walked back to the house together; and that afternoon Mary
returned to The Great Bell.
CHAPTER XXII.
DICK BIRCH’S SUGGESTION.
“Eugene, why doesn’t Dick Birch come here any now?” asked Julia, on the
afternoon of Mary’s departure.
“He was here a dozen times a day when you were sickest.”
“He doesn’t come at all now.”
“Do you wish to see him, Julia?”
“Certainly I wish to see him. Dick was one of my best friends.”
“He is still.”
“He hasn’t even called upon me since I got better.”
“He explained himself to you the night before the examination of Ross
Kingman.”
“You had some suspicions of him.”
“They were all removed the next day, Julia.”
“Why need he have said what he did about me in the court-room? It was
town talk for a month.”
“He was under oath, and it was dragged out of him; but he didn’t say a
word that betrayed a thought of yours, Julia.”
“There was not a thought of mine that he could betray,” said she, with
some spirit. “I always liked Dick very well; but if he had any thoughts
relating to me, he ought to have kept them to himself.”
“Dick is honest. He keeps back nothing.”
“I do not know that I blame him, if he was obliged to say what he
did in the court; but it has placed me in a very awkward position. I
could not walk on the same side of the street with him without exciting
remark.”
“For this reason Dick has kept away from you, refusing even to see you.”
“Do you think he wants to see me?”
“Of course he does.”
“Why is he so fearful, then, of what people will say?”
“He is not, on his own account; only on yours.”
“He is very considerate,” replied Julia, rather ironically.
“He has too much regard for you even to subject you to any annoyance.
For other reasons, too, he would keep away from you at the present
time. He is to be examined to-morrow.”
“Eugene, can it be possible that we have been deceived in Dick?” asked
Julia, with a look of painful anxiety on her pale face.
“No, it is not possible. I can never doubt Dick again. If the charge
against him is proved to my satisfaction, I must believe it.”
“The evidence is very strong--is it not?”
“Yes, that cannot be denied. Just now, it is a question of veracity
between Dick and Dr. Bilks, so far as we are concerned. If you believe
one, you cannot believe the other. The doctor has sworn that he saw
Dick on the Point Road that night; and Dick has sworn that he was at
home, and in his own room.”
“What do you think, Eugene?”
“I do not know what to think, Julia. Since you have been sick, I have
hardly given the matter a moment’s reflection. I have hoped that, by
some means, both their statements might be reconciled; but this is not
possible.”
“Perhaps it may be yet; for I cannot believe that either of them would
perjure himself.”
“One thing is evident, Julia: either Dr. Bilks or Dick Birch is a most
consummate scoundrel.”
“It would be terrible to believe that either was such. I cannot think
that Dr. Bilks would be so base, so vile, as to swear falsely.”
“Can you believe that Dick would be?” asked Eugene, warmly.
“I cannot; but the evidence is very strong against him, and there is
none at all against the doctor.”
“If Dr. Bilks can explain where he was on the night of the murder,
and show me how the letter found upon Buckstone’s body happened to be
written on his paper, I could not reasonably doubt his truthfulness.”
“He says Dick wrote the letter in his office; and he explains where he
was that night.”
“So he does; but when we want Sandy McGuire and his wife, his two
witnesses, they are gone. The doctor drew five thousand dollars about
this time, which, no doubt, went into Sandy’s pocket; for that is the
sum I offered the wretch for telling the truth.”
“Perhaps he can explain all this.”
“Until he does, I shall have my doubts.”
“Think what the doctor has done for me!” exclaimed Julia.
“I do think of it; and I am as grateful to him as you can be, Julia;
but justice must be blind.”
“Poor Dick! I am afraid----”
“Don’t condemn Dick,” interposed Eugene. “He has been at work on this
case from the beginning. The truth will come out in the end; and I am
willing to wait, without prejudice to either.”
Eugene was disposed to be impartial between his two friends. Since Dr.
Bilks had become the demigod of Pine Hill, it was as painful to doubt
one as the other. To the doctor he owed his sister’s life; to Dick, the
obligations of years of friendship. Who could decide between two men
having such claims?
At the appointed time on the following morning, Eugene drove Dick over
to Summerville. They paid a visit to Ross Kingman, in the jail, as they
had often done before during his weary confinement. The prisoner was
still comfortable and hopeful. He had ceased to believe that Birch was
the person he had seen with Buckstone; for Dick’s denial of the fact
was enough for him.
The examination commenced. Dick, with the assistance of Mr. Darling,
conducted his own defence. Much of the testimony was the same that had
been presented at the examination of Ross; but there were many new
faces in the court-room. Hubbard swore that he believed the person he
had seen with Buckstone was Mr. Birch. Dr. Bilks swore positively that
the person was Mr. Birch. Then Dick opened his battery on the doctor,
and dragged out the whole story about “Dr. Bilks’s baby” again; but the
witness was easy and confident this time.
“Dr. Bilks, have you seen Sandy McGuire since you visited him on the
day of Ross Kingman’s examination?” asked Dick.
“I have, several times.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Half an hour ago.”
“Where is he now?”
“Here, your ahnor!” shouted Sandy, from the crowd, to the great
amusement of the court and the audience.
“My patient is also here,” added the doctor, blandly.
“Have you paid this man any money?”
“Divil a cint!” shouted Sandy, which called forth a reproof from the
officers; and Sandy was compelled to repress himself.
“I have not,” replied Dr. Bilks.
“Did McGuire visit you on the day Buckstone’s body was found?”
“He did.”
“Did you draw any money from the bank that day?”
“I did; five thousand dollars.”
“What did you do with this money?”
“Paid this note with it,” replied Dr. Bilks, taking from his
pocket-book a note from which the signature had been torn off.
The document was examined, and Dick felt that one of his strong points
was slipping away from him.
“Is this note in your usual handwriting?”
“It is.”
“Where did you pay it?”
“In New York.”
It would be impossible to make any one believe that the doctor had not
drawn the five thousand dollars from the bank for the purpose of paying
his note in New York. The witness appeared to so much better advantage
at this time than on the former occasion, that what he had lost then he
more than regained now.
Experts were put upon the stand to testify in relation to the letter
found upon the body of Buckstone. They pointed out in what respect it
differed from Dick’s usual handwriting, and in what it resembled that
of the doctor. They were satisfied that the body of the letter, and the
superscription on the envelope, were written by different persons; but
with all the points of difference, and all the points of resemblance,
they were not sufficiently confident that the important letter was
written either by Dick or by Dr. Bilks to establish anything. The
evidence of the experts only created a doubt in the minds of the
magistrate and the people; and partisans on both sides could ascribe
the writing to whom they pleased. Nothing was settled.
The only thing that remained for the accused to do was to rebut the
evidence of Dr. Bilks, if he could. The testimony of Sandy McGuire
and the mother of “Dr. Bilks’s baby” had not yet been introduced--it
was not relevant; but Dick called both of them, and examined them at
great length. Sandy knew just a few facts, and to these he testified;
but he was utterly oblivious of everything else. Either he was more
devoted to the simple truth now than ever before, or he had been
carefully trained to perform the part he acted so well. There were some
discrepancies in his evidence, but they were slight. The mother of the
baby was equally wise and prudent. What she knew was insignificant
compared with what she did not know. She had an astonishingly bad
memory of collateral facts. She had been unfortunate, she said; and
she could not remember the name of the father of “Dr. Bilks’s baby” at
first; and the magistrate would not permit Dick to press the matter.
Though Sandy and this woman were hardly regarded credible
witnesses, they said nothing that absolutely injured Dr. Bilks. The
magistrate--not the one who had occupied the bench at the examination
of Ross Kingman--proceeded to review the testimony. It had been proved
that Mr. Birch was with Buckstone just before the murder; but there was
not a particle of evidence to show that he had been with him at the
time of the murder, or that he concealed the body after the murder. Mr.
Birch had desired to procure the re-marriage of the deceased with Mary
Kingman. He had no motive in desiring the death of Buckstone, and no
motive for concealing the body. If he had any selfish views, they would
have been promoted by the living Buckstone, rather than by his death.
It was at least doubtful whether Mr. Birch wrote the letter found upon
the body of the murdered man. If he did, it proved nothing except what
was already granted. Dr. Bilks was not under examination, and the
rebutting testimony or the doubtful witnesses need not be considered.
So far as the doctor’s testimony was material, it was amply supported
by the evidence of Hubbard, and the acknowledgments of Ross Kingman.
There could be no doubt that Buckstone was accompanied to the island
by a man. Granting that this man was Mr. Birch, was it proved that he
mutilated and concealed the body, or that he even knew of the murder?
Buckstone went eighty rods from the spot where he was seen with Mr.