Part 21 (1/2)
”Miss Bradley went to the gate with him, Miss Semple remained with me. I noticed that she was anxious, and found my company disagreeable; and suddenly she excused herself and left the room. As she did so a pebble was thrown through the window, it fell at my feet; a note was wrapped round it, and I read the note.”
There was a low _hiss-s-s-s!_ at these words, which pervaded the whole room. Macpherson waited until it had subsided, and then in a loud, defiant voice repeated his last sentence, ”I read the note, and acted upon it.”
The note was then handed to him, and he positively recognized it, and as it was not his note, nor intended for him, he was unable to protest against DuBois's reading it aloud. It made a pleasant impression. Men looked at the boy prisoner sympathetically, and a little scornful laugh pointed the epithet _”that Scot!”_ which infuriated Macpherson.
In this favorable atmosphere Mr. Curtis rose, and sarcastically advised Judge Matthews that it was ”evident the posse of Highland soldiers had been called out to prevent a lovers' tryst and satisfy the wounded vanity or jealousy of Captain Macpherson.” The soldier glared at the lawyer, and the lawyer smiled and nodded at the audience, as if telling them a secret; and it really seemed possible for a minute or two that Harry might escape through the never-failing sympathy that lovers draw to themselves.
Unfortunately, at this moment a man entered with a shabby-looking little book, and Harry's face showed an unmistakable anxiety.
”What is the purport of this interruption?” asked DuBois as the volume was handed to him.
”This book fell from the prisoner's jacket last night and John VanBrunt, the jailor, picked it up. This morning he noticed that it had been freshly bound, and he ripped open the leather and found this letter between the boards.”
The letter was eagerly examined, but it was in cipher and nothing could be made of it. One thing, however, instantly struck Judge Matthews; it was written on paper presumably only to be obtained in the Commander-in-Chief's quarters. This discovery caused the greatest sensation, and Harry was angrily questioned as to how the letter got inside the binding of a book he was carrying.
”The book is one of my schoolbooks,” said Harry. ”I am a poor counter, and it is, as you see, a Ready Reckoner. I use its tables in my business calculations constantly; it was falling to pieces, and a friend offered to bind it afresh for me. As for the letter, I did not put it there. I do not know who put it there. I do not know a word of its meaning. It may be an old puzzle, put there for want of a better piece of paper.
That is all I can tell.”
”You can tell the name of the friend who rebound your book?”
”No, I cannot.”
”Will not, you mean?”
”As you say.”
A recess was taken at this point of the examination, and the Judges retired to consider what ought to be done. ”The letter must, of course, be laid before General Clinton at once,” said DuBois; ”and as for the prisoner, there can now be no doubt of his treason. I am in favor of hanging him at sunset to-day.”
”I think,” answered Matthews, ”we had better give the young man a day to tell us what he knows. This letter proves that there are worse traitors, and more powerful ones, behind him. It is our duty to at least try and reach them through their emissary.”
”He will never tell.”
”The shadow of the gallows is a great persuader. This cipher message is a most important affair. I propose to make the sentence of death to-morrow at sunset, with the promise of life if he gives us the information we want.”
Matthews carried his point, and Neil Semple arrived at the court house just as the sentence in accord with this opinion was p.r.o.nounced. Harry hardly appeared to notice it; his gaze was fixed upon his father. The words had transfigured, not petrified him. His soul was at his eyes, and that fiery particle went through those on whom he looked and infected them with fear or with sympathy. He had risen to his feet when his son did, and every one looked at him, rather than at the prisoner. For mental, or spiritual, stature is as real a thing as physical; and in the day of trial this large-souled man, far from shrinking, appeared to grow more imposing. He had a look about him of a mountain among hills. The accepted son of a divine Father, he knew himself to be of celestial race, and he scorned the sentence of shameful death that had fallen from the lips of man upon his only son.
As he turned to the door he smiled bravely on Harry, and his smile was full of promise. He declined all help from both Medway and Semple, and was almost the first to leave the room. The crowd fell away from him as he pa.s.sed; though he neither spoke nor moved his hands, it fell away as if he pushed it aside. Yet it was a pitiful, friendly crowd; not a man in it but would have gladly helped him to save his boy's life.
”What will he do?” asked Medway of his companion.
”I cannot tell,” answered Semple. ”He has some purpose, for he walks like a man who knows what he intends and is in a hurry to perform it.”
”This is a very bad case. I see not how, in any ordinary way, the young man can be saved. You are a lawyer, what think you?”
”Unless there are extraordinary ways of helping him; there are no ordinary ones. He is undoubtedly a rebel spy. Any court, either police or court-martial, would consider his life justifiably forfeit.”
”Have you any influence, secret or open?”
”None whatever. If I had, we should not have been fined. Bradley may have, but I doubt it.”
”I think he has. Men are not silent and observant year after year for nothing. But we must not trust to Bradley. Can I see Miss Semple at seven o'clock this evening? I know, madame your mother is averse to Englishmen, but in this case----”