Part 19 (1/2)
The prisoner declined to answer this question, and finally declared that he did not know the man's name.
”For what purpose did you meet this man?”
”To do a job as we was hired for.”
”And what were you hired to do?”
”To carry off the young lady.”
At this astonis.h.i.+ng statement a moment's silence fell upon the court-room, which was broken by Pierson's sharp voice: he asked his client to name the person who had engaged him to kidnap the young girl.
With clasped hands and startled eyes, Millicent looked into the face of the ruffian, waiting to hear the name of the man who had plotted against her. John Graham, in the excitement of the moment, stood up in his place to get a better view of Horton; while Maurice Galbraith sat with an unmoved countenance, keenly watching the features of the prisoner at the bar. The question was twice put to him,--”Who was the man?” but he did not speak. A third time he was asked. Finally, he looked at his lawyer, who nodded slightly; and then, with a defiant glance toward the artist, at whom he pointed an unsteady finger, he said,--
”The man as hired me to do the job stands in this yer court-room. He calls himself John Graham.”
A moment of silence followed this astounding statement, succeeded by an incredulous murmur which ran from mouth to mouth. From the confused sounds rang out a deep, clear voice uttering these words:--
”It is a shameful lie!” Millicent it was who had spoken, rising to her feet and stretching out her arms toward Graham with a gesture of womanly protection, as if to s.h.i.+eld him from the ruffian's slanderous breath.
Silence was at last enforced, and the examination of Horton proceeded.
He repeated his statement that he had not killed the Chinaman, and that the abduction of Millicent had been attempted at the instigation of John Graham. The artist, after the first moment of surprise, said nothing, but remained perfectly silent, his eyes fixed intently on Daniel Horton's face. The story told by the prisoner was one which bore some semblance of truth. He had met his confederate on the morning of the picnic as had been previously arranged, and had attempted to carry off Miss Almsford; but hearing the voices of the gentlemen had fled. He had undertaken the affair some time beforehand, and had twice visited Graham's studio, where the artist had made a painting of him in order to explain his presence there. A sc.r.a.p of paper, soiled and tumbled, was produced, on which were traced these words in Graham's handwriting: ”Come to the place I told you of, to-morrow at one; you shall be well paid.” One o'clock had been the hour of the picnic; and this note, it was affirmed, had been sent to Horton on the previous day as per agreement. On being further examined, the fellow showed a dogged persistence in his story; and Maurice Galbraith's adroit cross-questioning failed to make him contradict his original statement in any particular. The day waned as the storm of words raged; and at dusk the trial was adjourned until the following day. As the crowd filed out of the court-room, Millicent found Graham at her side. He was pale, and his dark eyes flashed angrily. He was about to speak to her; and she turned toward him with smiling lips and eyes, when Henry Deering stepped between them, and, bowing coolly to the artist, drew her arm through his own, and, before she was well aware of his intention, led her from the room. The eyes of a dozen curious outsiders were fixed upon her, and she submitted to be placed in the wagon, which Hal drove off at a sharp pace. The artist remained in the court-room, where he was presently joined by Maurice Galbraith, who in a formal voice asked him to accompany him to his apartment, in order that they might discuss the new and unexpected feature in the case. The two men walked together down the street, both too much excited to trust themselves to speak. As soon as they found themselves alone in Galbraith's chamber at the inn, Graham cried excitedly,--
”Galbraith, no one can for a moment believe that infamous lie,--you can make the fellow eat his words to-morrow?”
The lawyer folded his arms across his breast, and looked into his companion's face with a searching gaze, before he answered slowly and ironically,--
”Am I to understand, Mr. Graham, that you deny all collusion in the attempt to carry off Miss Almsford?”
”Great G.o.d! of course I do. Can you for a moment doubt me? _I to carry off Millicent_? Are you mad to ask me such a question? Why, don't you know, man, how much I have cared for that girl?”
”It is not difficult for the most indifferent observer to detect your admiration for Miss Almsford.”
”Well?”
”Well, what does that prove? It is a point against you that you are supposed to be in love with the young lady, and gives color to Horton's accusation.”
Graham sank into a seat, and the lawyer continued,--
”Your great intimacy at the Ranch and your marked attentions to Miss Almsford were apparently unaccountably discontinued by your removal to San Francisco. This feature is against you. You must have seen that in the eyes of Henry Deering, Horton's statement needed strong disproving.”
”And you, Galbraith, can you for an instant suspect me of so base, so vile an action? Is it possible that a man can be so misjudged?”
”All I have to say, Mr. Graham, is that it is my hope to prove you innocent of the crime in which Horton has implicated you. As the friend and counsel of Miss Almsford, I prefer to believe that she was menaced by a vulgar ruffian and not by a man who might have aspired to the honor and privilege of guarding her from every harm. If you will excuse me, I will see you in the course of the evening.”
With these words the lawyer left the apartment, his nervous face suffused by a deep flush. John Graham stared after him for a moment, and then pa.s.sed down the corridor and out into the quiet night, to seek counsel from the stars in this strange hour of doubt.
CHAPTER XVIII.
”... the pa.s.sions of her mind, As winds from all the compa.s.s s.h.i.+ft and blow, Made war upon each other for an hour.”