Three millions! or, The way of the world
and your Sunday school will rob them of their souls. I have no
church--nothing but an old shed; and some of them may be led into a
nice place like that you mean to build.”
“Father McCafferty, it makes no difference to me what these people
believe, if they only have a religion that will save their souls, and
keep them from vice and sin.”
“That is what their religion is for,” said the priest, warmly. “I have
no means to work with.”
“Do you want a church?”
“I do, badly.”
“You shall have one. What will it cost?”
“Six thousand dollars,” replied the astonished priest.
“Build your church, and I will pay all the bills.”
“God bless your honor.”
Father McCafferty was a true Catholic, but none the less a true
Christian. If he placed more stress on mere forms than those of a
different faith, it was because he believed they were vital. Eugene
thought that any Christian faith would save a man from sin, if it was
earnestly believed and faithfully followed. It made no difference to
him what other men’s theological opinions were, if the holders of them
were only earnest and faithful.
So the Catholic Church was built, and Father McCafferty was a happy
man, and joined Eugene in good works, while he refused even to utter
the Lord’s Prayer in worship with him. The _millionnaire_ went a step
farther. The priest, at his suggestion, imported half a dozen Sisters
of Charity into Poppleton, and Eugene filled up the exchequer from
which these self-sacrificing ladies drew for the needy ones. Under
the tuition of the good father and the benevolent sisters, the people
of the Catholic parish struck a terrible blow at the demons of filth,
rags, and bad whiskey. But yet, with all that had been done, paradise
and Poppleton were still leagues apart.
Thus passed away the summer and the autumn, till the first Tuesday in
November, the day appointed for the trial of Ross Kingman. As Julia
insisted upon being the companion of Mary, the carriage was ordered
for them, and Eugene and Dr. Bilks occupied the front seat. On their
arrival, the vehicle was left at the hotel, and the ladies, attended by
Eugene, walked over to the jail to see Ross, where an awkward meeting
took place, for Dick Birch was there, preparing himself for the trial.
Dick blushed up to his eyes; so did Julia. A friendly greeting
followed, and she retreated as soon as possible.
“Dick, I am glad to see you again,” said Eugene, as he grasped the
offered hand.
“Equally glad am I,” replied Dick.
“Where have you been these four months?”
“At work. I have written to you half a dozen times.”
“You have; but you didn’t say anything in your letters.”
“I thought it was best to let old matters slumber for a while. I have
been as busy as a bee. But you must excuse me now, for I have two or
three points to settle before the trial comes on.”
Ross was cheerful, and seemed to have no fears of the result. Mary had
been to see him several times during his long confinement, and Eugene
had been careful to supply him with everything he needed, which the
rules of the jail would permit. As Dick Birch wished to confer with the
prisoner, the party left him, and went to the court-house, where Dr.
Bilks had already preceded them.
“Have you seen Mr. Birch? They say he is here,” said the doctor to
Eugene.
“I saw him at the jail.”
“How does he seem?”
“Remarkably cheerful.”
“What has he been about?” asked the doctor, rather nervously.
“I don’t know; he says he has been at work all the time.”
“What has he been doing?”
“He does not say; but I suppose he has been at work upon his own case.”
“His own case, it seems to me, was pretty effectually settled the last
time we were here.”
Dr. Bilks did not appear to be at all satisfied with Dick’s labors
during his absence, or rather with the fact that he had been at work.
Perhaps he thought it was very unreasonable of Dick, after he had been
so fully condemned by the popular voice, to resist the conclusion that
he was a liar and a perjurer.
The court came in; the prisoner was placed in the dock, and after the
usual difficulty in impanelling a jury to try a capital case, the
trial commenced. We do not propose to follow it through its tedious
length. Dr. Bilks was the first witness called in the afternoon. He
took his place upon the stand with an easy assurance, and Mr. Lowe,
the government attorney, drew from him all the evidence he wanted,
substantially as it had been given before, with the additional fact
that he had seen and recognized Mr. Birch, in company with Buckstone.
The doctor was as tender of his friend, as he had been before; and he
appeared like a man who was anxious for nothing but to tell the truth.
Mr. Lowe, entirely satisfied with the witness, turned him over to the
defence for cross-examination.
“Your name, if you please,” said Dick, to whom this duty was again
intrusted.
“Dr. Bilks.”
“Your name in full, if you please.”
“Thomas L. Bilks,” replied the doctor, with a smile.
“What is your middle name?”
The doctor hesitated, and looked slightly embarrassed.
“Lenox,” he added, at last.
“Thomas Lenox Bilks,” repeated the lawyer.
“Yes, sir.”
“Is that your name?” demanded Dick, sharply.
“That is my name.”
“Are you willing to swear that that is your name?” continued the thorny
lawyer, rising from his chair, and gazing earnestly into his face.
Mr. Lowe interfered; even the judges, feeling that the lawyer meant
to browbeat the witness, suggested that he was under oath. To the
astonishment of everybody, Dick declared that the doctor had not given
his true name.
“You take your oath that your name is Thomas Lenox Bilks--do you?”
“I do.”
The doctor was pale as a sheet. He trembled, and his attempt to smile
and seem indifferent was an utter failure. The people in the court-room
were breathless with interest.
The lawyer pressed him on this point for some time, until the court
interfered.
“May it please the court, the witness has not given his true name. We
shall be able to prove, if necessary, that he is here under an assumed
character, that his evidence is utterly unreliable and worthless,” said
Dick, turning to the judges; and he was permitted to proceed.
“Once more, Dr. Bilks, what is your real name?”
The doctor was silent. It was evident that Dick Birch had not worked
for nothing during his absence.
“Answer me, if you please,” said Dick, sternly.
Dr. Bilks looked around the room, as if to measure the full extent of
his difficulty. He saw some one, apparently, whose presence startled
him.
“My real name is Thomas Lynch,” replied the doctor, as the cold sweat
stood upon his forehead.
“I thought so,” replied Dick, triumphantly, as he glanced at Hungerford
to see the effect of this astonishing revelation.
Eugene actually leaped to his feet with surprise, for that name was the
key to everything which had been dark and mysterious.
“Why did you change your name, Dr. Lynch?” asked Dick.
“Because the name of Lynch does not suit me. It was an injury to me in
my practice. I have been taken for an Irishman so many times that I
assumed my mother’s maiden name.”
“Was that the only reason?”
“It was.”
“Is your mother living?”
“She is not.”
“What was the name of her last husband?”
Dr. Lynch, as we must hereafter call him, was not disposed to answer
this question. The court thought it was unnecessary; and Dick explained
what he intended to prove.
“The name of your mother’s last husband, if you please?” repeated Dick.
“John Hungerford,” replied the doctor, desperately, as he glanced at a
woman in the witness seats, who was a stranger to most of the people
present at the trial.
CHAPTER XXV.
DR. LYNCH.
Dr. Lynch struggled against a bad appearance. He had turned pale; he
was shaking in the knees; he did not look his torturer in the face.
He knew that all these things were against him. He had seen the woman
in the witness seats. Her presence alone had induced him to tell the
truth. She had been John Hungerford’s housekeeper, and she knew Tom
Lynch as well as she knew the three eminent trustees who had daily
visited the _millionnaire_ while he was in the throes of making his
will.
By the time the doctor was ready to answer the question relating to
his mother’s second husband, he had measured his surroundings; he had
weighed Mrs. Black, the housekeeper, and had apparently satisfied
himself that she could not turn the scale wholly against him. He had
sufficiently explained the reason for adopting a new name--a simple and
very satisfactory reason, it seemed to him. Dr. Lynch had decided what
course to pursue, and the decision had to a great extent restored his
self-possession. He looked around the room, and smiled. It was a rather
ghastly smile, and the doctor would have done better not to attempt it.
“Dr. Lynch, had you any personal interest in the marriage of Mr. Eugene
Hungerford?” continued Dick, when the sensation attending the last
answer of the witness had subsided.
“None whatever,” replied the doctor, promptly, and with an elasticity
in his tones which indicated his belief that all his troubles on the
stand were ended.
“If Mr. Hungerford should not marry, what effect would it have upon
you?”
“I suppose I should come into possession of one sixth part of the late
John Hungerford’s property,” answered the doctor, with a cheerful look.
“Have you, at any time, done anything to prevent his marriage--with
Miss Kingman, for instance?”
“On the contrary, I have always advised him to marry her, and done what
I could to remove certain objections on the part of his mother and his
sister.”
This was certainly true, and there was a strong reaction, even in
the mind of Eugene, in favor of the doctor. If the witness had been
selfishly bent on obtaining the fortune, he would certainly have done
what he could to prevent the marriage, which might, and probably
would, vitiate his individual claims. The face of the doctor now wore
an expression of triumph. He felt that he had nailed to the wall the
insinuation implied in the lawyer’s question.
The doctor had apparently made a point, and Dick had lost one.
The cross-examination was continued, and extended over about the same
ground as on the former occasion. The witness testified to the old
story about the baby, and the woman from Newington. He had paid them no
money; he had done nothing to cover up the truth. Other witnesses were
called; but nothing essentially different from the evidence given at
the examination was elicited; and at six o’clock the court adjourned.
Dr. Lynch, in spite of the point he had made, and in spite of the bold
face he had finally assumed on the stand, was nervous and agitated. It
was clear to him that he was walking among traps and pitfalls; that he
was liable to be tripped up at any moment. He could form no conjecture
of what was coming, for Dick Birch had carefully masked his battery,
and did not indicate what he intended to do.
“Well, Julia, Dick is beginning to unveil the machine he has been
building,” said Eugene, when the court adjourned.
“Do you believe that Dr. Bilks is Tom Lynch?”
“He swears to the fact.”
“What does it all mean?”
“Don’t you see?”
“I can see, but I cannot believe.”
Dick Birch joined them.
“Dick, Julia can see, but she cannot believe,” said Eugene.
“He who runs may read,” laughed Dick, in the best of humor. “Let us
walk over to the hotel.”
“Mr. Birch,” asked Julia, timidly, “do you attribute any bad motives to
Dr. Bilks?”
“To Dr. Lynch?”
“Dr. Lynch, if that is his name.”
“I do; the very worst of motives. In the course of this trial, if my
testimony is not ruled out, I shall prove enough to satisfy all what
the doctor is.”