Three millions! or, The way of the world
Birch, before he was killed. The accused may have crossed the channel
at this time, landed where the boat was found, with his handkerchief
and cigar.
On the morning after the murder, Mr. Birch appeared as usual, according
to the testimony of Mr. Hungerford and Dr. Bilks. There was nothing
unusual in his manner. He had always maintained a high character, and
it was difficult to believe that such a man would resort to a measure
so revolting as severing the head from a corpse, in order to conceal
the crime of one in whom he appeared to have no especial interest. Why
the head was removed does not appear, for all the papers, jewelry, and
other articles, remained upon the body, and enabled the finders to
identify it. The head would hardly have added any strength to the proof
of identity. There was not a particle of evidence to show that Mr.
Birch was present on the island, even at the time of the murder; and
“_the prisoner is discharged_.”
The people generally were not satisfied with this decision. If Mr.
Birch had not sunk the body, who had? Some thought the magistrate
was unwilling to expose a brother lawyer to trial on such a charge;
others, that he had eaten too many good dinners with Dick Birch and
Mr. Hungerford; and still others, that he had been bribed to give this
decision. If the result was not what was expected,--and it certainly
was not,--it is more probable that the magistrate used his common
sense, his knowledge of human nature, as well as the evidence spoken by
witnesses. Whether he was right or wrong, the sequel will show to the
satisfaction of the reader.
Without regard to the result of the examination, it was certain that
Dick Birch had not gained anything in establishing his character for
veracity and integrity. Though he was relieved from the terrors of the
law, he was none the less guilty in the eyes of the people. He had not
redeemed himself in the minds of even his best friends, who were still
left in doubt and anxiety.
“Mr. Birch, I congratulate you!” exclaimed Dr. Bilks, rushing up to
him, after the decision of the magistrate.
“Thank you; but why do you congratulate me?” replied Dick, languidly.
“Upon your escape. I knew it would be so. You have compelled me to
defend myself, and I have done so; but I assure you, I have always
regarded you as my friend, and I am rejoiced to find you relieved of
this charge.”
“You are very kind; but I should have preferred to be committed for
trial.”
“Why so?”
“Because the truth has not come out yet.”
“I am very sorry if it has not. My position from the beginning has
been established. Of course I knew you were with Buckstone, but I was
satisfied that it was for a good purpose.”
“Dr. Bilks, as I look at the result just reached, I am ruined.”
“Ruined?”
“My character is spoiled, though I may keep out of prison. If this were
the end, I would go into obscurity, and never show my face among men
again.”
“Nonsense, my dear fellow! You have been vindicated.”
“No; to-day has plunged me deeper than ever in the mire.”
“Mr. Birch, you made some heavy charges against me at one time. You
told me to my face that I was the person with Buckstone,” said Dr.
Bilks, with his heartiest laugh.
“I will not repeat the charge.”
“Do you still believe it?” demanded the doctor, who appeared to regard
the charge as one of the pleasantest of jokes.
“It does not matter now.”
“Birch, let us be friends, as before. I am grateful to you for many
kindnesses; and, whatever your opinion of me may be, I shall always
hold you in the highest respect and esteem.”
Dick was silent. The court had adjourned, and they were almost alone in
the room.
“Have I injured you, Birch?” demanded the doctor.
“You know best.”
“Let us be friends, Birch.”
“Doctor, that can never be. I shall treat you like a gentleman, but you
and I can never be friends. I believe you are my enemy.”
“I am astonished, Mr. Birch!” exclaimed Dr. Bilks; and he looked
astonished. “What have I done?”
“I need not tell you--I will not. Your words, the very sight of you is
loathsome to me.”
“Why should it be so?”
“I believe that, under the guise of friendship for Mr. Hungerford and
for me, you have endeavored to poison his mind; to set him against me,”
replied Dick, with energy.
“Why should I, Mr. Birch?”
“That is best known to you.”
“Mr. Birch, I have been your friend in deed and in truth. I have
never thrust myself in your friend’s way. I seldom saw him before
the sickness of Julia. I have done what I could for her, and my
professional duty to my patient required frequent visits.”
“You saved her life; and for that I am as grateful to you as her own
family.”
“She is well--go and see her, Mr. Birch.”
“Never, until the stains are washed from my good name!”
“You judge yourself, as well as me, too harshly. Julia will be glad to
see you.”
“You know that I love her, and you mock me.”
“Mock you, my dear fellow! I saved her from death for your sake.”
Dick’s face was red with anger. He had already spurned the doctor,
who would not resent his words, and his professions of regard were
repulsive to him. Although he could not prove it, although all the
evidence was against him, Dick Birch could not help believing that the
doctor was a villain, and that, sooner or later, a crash would come,
when men would see him as he was. Dick tried to be politic, and treat
the doctor as a friend, but his nature rebelled against the attempt.
What he was, he appeared to be.
“Dr. Bilks, I think this conversation has been long enough,” added
Dick, rising from his chair.
“Mr. Birch, you have played this game out, and you have lost. You are
disappointed and morose. I am sorry for you; I compassionate your
misfortunes; and I excuse your rude speech. Let me add, that I am still
your friend; when you think better of this thing I shall be happy to
see you; until then, I am your obedient servant.”
The doctor turned on his heel and walked away, not angry, apparently,
but disappointed to find that the issue of the trial had not removed
Dick’s unpleasant manner towards him. Eugene had gone to the hotel for
his horse. When he returned to the court-house he found his friend in a
very unamiable frame of mind.
“Dick, you are not satisfied,” said Hungerford, when they were seated
in the buggy.
“I am not; I never was farther from being satisfied in my life,”
replied Dick.
“You have been discharged.”
“Discharged!” exclaimed Birch, bitterly.
“You ought to be satisfied with the result, so far as it goes.”
“Are you satisfied with it?”
“I am.”
“Then you are not my friend.”
“I am your friend, and it is for this reason I am satisfied.”
“Am I not still a liar in the eyes of the people? Am I not liable to be
arrested for perjury, at any moment?”
“There is no danger.”
“I do not fear an arrest. I do not care for that. Hungerford, can I be
satisfied to be regarded as a liar and a perjurer?”
“Of course not.”
“Will you associate with one who stands before the community branded as
a liar?”
“Don’t disturb yourself about me, Dick; I am still your friend.”
“If Dr. Bilks is not a scoundrel, I am!”
“Not at all. It is possible, it is probable, that both of you are
honest and true men.”
“Impossible!”
“So far as you and the doctor differ, it is possible that he is
mistaken.”
“Mistaken, Eugene Hungerford! Am I a fool, as well as a knave? Did Dr.
Bilks write that letter to Buckstone, or did I write it?” demanded
Dick, with something like fierceness in his tones and manner.
“No matter who wrote it.”
“It is matter. You cannot help believing that one of us is a villain.
If I wrote it, I am no more worthy to look you in the face and call you
my friend!”
“Dr. Bilks has rendered us a great service, Dick----”
“Do not remind me of that; I know it. I am as grateful to him for that
as you are; but truth and justice come before even the life of the one
we love best.”
“Must I condemn him?”
“Him or me! If you believe he did not write that letter, you must
believe I did.”
“I will not decide.”
“I say I did not write it. There is no room for a mistake here. Do you
believe me, Hungerford?”
“I do, Dick.”
“Then is Dr. Bilks condemned?”
“Not at all. A third person may have written it.”
“That is not possible.”
“Dick, you say the envelope was the one in which you sent your letter
to Buckstone?”
“There is no doubt of it.”
“Where could Dr. Bilks have obtained it?”
“From the dead body of Buckstone.”
“That is absurd.”
“Dr. Bilks is the man who severed the head from the body, and sunk it
in the channel,” said Dick, fiercely.
“Why should he have done this?”
“I don’t know. There is a mystery which I cannot fathom yet; but I will
fathom it. I will probe this matter till the daylight shines through it
in every direction.”
“I cannot believe that Dr. Bilks had anything to do with the murder, or
with the body.”
“Dr. Bilks saved Julia’s life--God bless him for that! I ought not to
ask you to decide between him and me,” added Dick, sadly.
“I hoped there would be peace now; that both of you would be content to
wait till time should solve the mystery. Dr. Bilks expresses himself in
the kindest terms towards you, Dick. He assured me, a week ago, that
you would be discharged; and certainly no man could have been more
gratified with the result to-day than he was.”
“He is a hypocrite. If he was gratified, it was only because the mark
of Cain is upon me, and he asks nothing more for me.”
“You wrong him, Dick.”
“On my soul, I do not! He is a miserable, sneaking villain!”
“Come, Dick! This does not sound like you.”
“I speak only the truth; but forgive me, Hungerford; he is your friend.”
“He is,” replied Eugene, firmly.
Dick was silent. He felt that he was condemned. But he was considerate
towards his friend. He realized that Eugene’s eyes were blinded by the
services which Dr. Bilks had rendered his sister. He could not blame
him--he did not.
“Hungerford, I submit with what resignation I can command to my fate. I
shall leave Poppleton to-morrow.”
“Leave, Dick!”
“Yes, for a time--perhaps forever. I shall attend Ross Kingman’s trial,
at Summerville.”
“Why should you leave?”
“Why should I stay? There is nothing more for me to do in Poppleton.”
“Attend to my affairs as usual.”
“Can you trust a liar, a perjurer?”
“You are unjust and unkind, Dick. You know I have no such opinion of
you.”
“You cannot well avoid having such an opinion. I shall go, Hungerford;
I shall return only when Dr. Bilks is sent to the state prison, or
driven from the town. Whatever his purpose, he has accomplished it.”
Dick looked sharply into Eugene’s face.
“What purpose can he have?” demanded Eugene.
“Hungerford, what I am going to say will almost choke me, but I must
say it;” and Dick actually trembled with emotion.
“What, Dick?” asked Eugene, as he drew up his horse before the Bell
River House.
“Hungerford, don’t let Dr. Bilks marry Julia until you have seen
the end of this matter. Good by, Hungerford;” and Dick Birch, after
convulsively grasping the hand of his friend, leaped from the vehicle,
and rushed into the hotel.
Eugene was paralyzed by the suggestion contained in these words. He
looked at the door a moment, then turned his horse and drove towards
Pine Hill. Dick was angry and excited; he was in no condition to speak
calmly. It was best to leave him alone for a time. He would drive home
and inform his mother and Julia of the result of the examination, and
then return.
“Marry Dr. Bilks,” repeated he several times, as he drove towards
Pine Hill. Had the doctor driven Dick from Julia’s presence for this
purpose? He had been more than a physician to Julia--he was now,