Three millions! or, The way of the world
Dick Birch began to be very much excited, when the doctor again called
his attention to the fact that they were merely supposing a case.
“Why did you remove the head?” continued Dick.
“I wanted it for dissection. One of my patients was sick with brain
fever, and I wished to study the case with a real brain.”
“Did you dissect it?”
“I did.”
“Where?”
“In my office, that night.”
“Where is the head now?”
“I have the skull.”
“Who was your patient?”
“Mr. John Dunbar.”
So far the case was real, for such a person had been sick with brain
fever at the time.
“What did you do with the body?”
“Sunk it in the channel, as the witnesses have described.”
“For what purpose?”
“That I might reclaim it for dissection. I spoke about a ‘subject’ to
Dr. White, and invited him to assist me; but I had no opportunity to
recover the body before it was found by the sheriff.”
“When did you make the acquaintance of Mr. Buckstone?”
“I never saw him till after dark on the night he was murdered.”
“Did you send for him?”
“I did.”
“Did you write the letter signed Richard Birch?”
“I did.”
“Where did you get the old envelope?”
“Am I to answer all these questions in court?” demanded the doctor.
“No, not all of them; in fact, not many of them.”
“Why do you put them, then?”
“Because I wish to know how the affair was managed.”
“We are only supposing a case,” added Dr. Lynch, with a hideous grin.
“Very well; let us go on supposing the case a little longer. Where did
you get the old envelope?”
“It is hardly necessary to be so minute.”
“Quite necessary; answer, if you please.”
“I found it on the body.”
“Where did you write the letter with the signature of Mr. Birch?”
“In my office. I went up with the head, and wrote the letter. On my
return, I threw away the original letter, and put the one I had written
in its place.”
“Then you intended that Mr. Birch should be compromised?”
“I did.”
“You intended to recover the body, but you prepared it to be found by
others.”
“I was afraid it would be found.”
“Why did you intend to implicate Mr. Birch?”
“There was good reason why he should be with Buckstone--there was none
to explain why I should be his companion.”
“Why did you send for him?”
“I will not answer another question!” exclaimed Dr. Lynch. “I have been
a fool.”
“We were only supposing a case.”
“We have supposed enough, until you can satisfy me what I am to gain by
supposing more.”
“Are you willing to answer the questions up to the point where you
secured the body for dissection.”
“No; the friends of Buckstone, if he has any, would murder me for what
I did.”
“It was in the cause of humane science. For aught we know, you saved
Mr. Dunbar’s life by dissecting that head.”
“I think I did; but a man’s friends would not consider this a good
excuse for dissecting his brain.”
“Perhaps you are right; and as no truth or principle will be
sacrificed, we had better keep these facts out of the case. Besides,
what doctors do in the cause of science and humanity is hardly a fit
theme for public comment. In a great murder case, within my knowledge,
some of the strongest evidence in regard to the identification of the
victim was withheld to spare the feelings of a witness, and to avoid
low remarks in public. It is a safe precedent, and I think Mr. Lowe
will consent to keep this evidence out of court, especially as it
proves nothing. It was wrong in you to mutilate the corpse; but to
expose you would do a greater wrong by lacerating the feelings of the
dead man’s friends, if they should hear of it, and by outraging the
delicacy of the community generally. Pass this by; we will arrange it
by and by.”
“Is the suppression of this evidence all I am to gain?” asked the
doctor.
“No; here is the deposition of Sandy McGuire,” replied Dick, taking
the document from his pocket. “I shall rebut your evidence with it, if
necessary, and prove that ‘Dr. Bilks’s baby’ was a myth. You will save
this.”
“My God!” groaned the doctor.
“You will be proved to be a liar in all this story.”
“Where did you get this?”
“It was done in due form, you perceive, before a magistrate, and has
the seal of a commissioner for this state in New York upon it. Sandy
McGuire spent and lost all the money you paid him, and then got into a
fight, killed his man, and was sent to the state prison for life. I was
in New York city at the time, looking up Buckstone’s affairs. I went
to him; did what I could for him. As his money was all gone, he had no
incentive to keep your secret any longer. Here is the whole truth in
this paper; and I can support it with other witnesses. Unless you make
it necessary, the document need not be used.”
Dr. Lynch paced the room in violent agitation. This time he was
defeated. It was useless to contend. Dick had him in his toils.
“One thing more, doctor; I have the original letter which I wrote to
Buckstone, and which you threw away upon the beach.”
“I threw it overboard with a stone in it.”
“It was found on the rocks, by a witness who will testify to the fact,
if called upon.”
“Mr. Birch, I am in your power. Do with me as you will,” groaned the
doctor. “I will confess whatever you say.”
“Confess the truth. I have three or four letters written by you to
Buckstone.”
“Spare me, if you can! Let me leave the town at once.”
“No; now sit down, and write a full confession of your agency in the
affair; tell the whole truth; and I pledge you my honor, that, beyond
the simple facts necessary to vindicate my good name, none of it shall
be made public.”
Dr. Lynch sat down at the table, and commenced writing, and Dick went
down to his supper.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PENITENT DEMIGOD.
Dr. Lynch wrote his confession. It contained the substance of his
answers to Dick’s questions; the supposed had become the actual. The
doctor was diligent and thoughtful in his labor; but his face had
entirely lost that aspect of slavish fear it had worn when Dick was
present. His expression was that of low cunning; and one who looked
upon him now would have regarded him as the conqueror, instead of the
conquered. He finished the document, glanced at it, laid down the pen,
smiled, rubbed his hands, rose from his chair, walked the room like
a cabinet minister who has just elaborated a very satisfactory state
paper. Through apparent defeat the doctor was evidently winning his
most decisive victory.
The author of the confession read it over, inserted a few words
accidentally omitted, punctuated it as carefully as though it were to
appear in the Poppleton Mercury, and then coolly awaited the return of
his persecutor.
“Vindicate him! Yes, I’ll vindicate him,” muttered the doctor, as he
sat gazing at the burning sticks in the fireplace. “I can afford to do
that. I can give the inch for the sake of the ell.”
Dick Birch finished his supper, and returned to the room. The moment
the door opened, Dr. Lynch looked as timid and abject as when his
tormentor had left him. He handed the confession to the lawyer, who
read it through with as much care as though it had been a deed of some
valuable estate.
“What do you think of it, Mr. Birch?” asked the doctor, with much
apparent emotion.
“It is all very well as far as it goes,” replied Dick, in business-like
tones.
“I have told all I know, Mr. Birch,” pleaded Dr. Lynch.
“You have written out a very full history of your operations on the
night in question; and so far, your paper is entirely satisfactory; but
you have not told why you came to Poppleton.”
“I came only to practise my profession. I had no other object in view.”
“You had,” said Dick, bluntly.
“Upon my honor I had not.”
“Very well; pass that for the present, but it will come up again. Why
did you send for Buckstone?”
“My motives were good,” whined the culprit.
“No doubt of that; all your motives were good,” sneered Dick.
“You will remember that I was the medical attendant of Mary Kingman.”
“You were; go on.”
“Possibly I may have been, to some extent, influenced by selfish
motives.”
“Possibly!”
“But I assure you, Mr. Birch, that my principal object was to redeem
Miss Kingman from the misery to which she was reduced. I was afraid she
would die on my hands.”
“Did you tell her that you had written to Buckstone?”
“I did not dare to raise any hopes till there was some prospect of
their being realized.”
“You were very kind, doctor. You suggested that it was barely possible
you might have been influenced to some extent by selfish motives. What
selfish motives had you?”
“Mr. Birch, I am no hypocrite, however much I have erred in this
unpleasant business. I will not deny that half a million of dollars was
not a disagreeable prospect to contemplate;” and the doctor added one
of his most ghostly grins to this speech. “Doubtless you have felt the
same yourself.”
“I never contemplated any such prospect,” replied Dick, his cheek
flushing as he thought what motives might be attributed to him in
making love to Julia.
“Doubtless you loved Miss Hungerford; perhaps you still love her, Mr.
Birch. You were honest and sincere in your love, but at the same time
you could have no possible objection to her being the possessor of half
a million of money.”
“Silence, sir! I will listen to none of your insinuations.”
“O, I didn’t intend anything disagreeable,” added the doctor, humbly.
“Then you acknowledge that you sent for Buckstone to forward your own
views?”
“Partly for that; mainly for Miss Kingman’s sake.”
“Put that in your confession.”
The doctor complied, with some objections.
“Why did you wish to prove that I was the person with Buckstone?”
“I thought it would injure you less than me. I was led from one thing
to another, in order to make good my first statements.”
The doctor added to the confession till Dick was satisfied.
“Now I will call in two persons to witness your signature.”
“Then I am ruined!”
“Not at all: they need not even know the contents of this paper.”
“But what use do you intend to make of the document, Mr. Birch?”
“If you keep your promise in the court-room to-morrow, no use
whatever.”
“Will you give it to me then?”
“No; but I will promise that no one shall see it while you behave like
an honest, upright man.”
“I understand you, Mr. Birch,” replied Dr. Lynch, gloomily. “You mean
to hold it over me, as a guaranty that I shall do as you bid me.”
“I will make no unfair use of the paper.”
“I am helpless, Mr. Birch; you can do with me as you please.”
“I can; but no advantage shall be taken of you. I will call in Mr. Lowe
and Mr. Darling as witnesses.”
The paper was duly signed and witnessed. Dick put it in his pocket, and
felt that he had the enemy within his grasp; as though he had conquered
the serpent of evil, and had him in chains at his feet.
Dr. Lynch did not think so.
“You haven’t been to supper, doctor,” said Dick, when the witnesses had
departed, as they did without asking a question.
“I have no appetite.”
“I am not surprised.”
“I feel like a ruined man.”
“Dr. Lynch, you have wronged me as one man never wronged another.”
“I confess it. I am sorry for it. I will do all I can to atone for my
error.”
“That is all I ask.”
“I will leave Poppleton at once.”
“You need not.”
“I will go to Pine Hill no more,” added the doctor, significantly.
“Go there as often as you please.”
“The family feel that they are under some obligations to me; Julia
feels so.”
“They are. She is.”
“I will keep out of your way,” replied Dr. Lynch, more plainly.
“I do not wish you to do so. Though you have wronged me, though you
have perjured yourself, though you have suborned witnesses, I will not
injure you. I forgive you.”