Part 19 (2/2)
He is sure he can get a light sentence for him--two years.”
”M'ri,” said Barnabas, in a voice vibrating with reproach, ”do you want Jud to go to prison?”
M'ri paled.
”I want to do what is best for him, Barnabas. Martin thinks it will be a salutary lesson.”
”I wonder, M'ri,” said Barnabas slowly, ”if the Judge had a son of his own, he would try to reform him by putting him behind bars.”
”Oh, Barnabas!” protested M'ri, with a burst of tears.
”He's still my boy, if he is wild, M'ri.”
”But, Barnabas, Martin's patience is exhausted. He has got him out of trouble so many times--and, oh, Barnabas, he says he won't under any circ.u.mstances take the case! He is ashamed to face the court and jury with such a palpably guilty client. I have pleaded with him, but I can't influence him. You know how set he can be!”
”Wal, there are other lawyers,” said Barnabas grimly.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”_He kept his word. Jud was cleared_”]
David had remained silent and constrained during this conversation, the lines of his young face setting like steel. Suddenly he left the house and paced up and down in the orchard, to wrestle once more with the old problem of his boyhood days. It was different now. Then it had been a question of how much he must stand from Jud for the sake of the benefits bestowed by the offender's father. Now it meant a sacrifice of principle. He had made his boyish boast that he would defend only those who were wrongfully accused. To take this case would be to bring his wagon down from the star. Then suddenly he found himself disposed to arraign himself for selfishly clinging to his ideals.
He went back into the house, where M'ri was still tearfully arguing and protesting. He came up to Barnabas.
”I will clear Jud, if you will trust the case to me, Uncle Barnabas.”
Barnabas grasped his hand.
”Bless you, Dave, my boy,” he said. ”I wanted you to, but Jud has been--wal, I didn't like to ask you.”
”David,” said M'ri, when they were alone, ”Martin said you wouldn't take a case where you were convinced of the guilt of the client.”
”I shall take this case,” was David's quiet reply.
”Really, David, Martin thinks it will be best for Jud--”
”I don't want to do what is best for Jud, Aunt M'ri, I want to do what is best for Uncle Barnabas. It's the first chance I ever had to do anything for him.”
When Judge Thorne found that David was determined to defend Jud, he gave him some advice:
”You must get counter evidence, if you can, David. If you have any lingering idea that you can appeal to the jury on account of Barnabas being Jud's father, root out that idea. There's no chance of rural juries tempering justice with mercy. With them it's an eye for an eye, every time.”
David had an infinitely harder task in clearing Jud than he had had in defending Miggs. The evidence was clear, the witnesses sure and wary, and the prisoner universally detested save by his evil-minded companions, but these obstacles brought out in full force all David's indomitable will and alertness. He tipped up and entrapped the prosecution's witnesses with lightning dexterity. One of them chanced to be a man whom David had befriended, and he aided him by replying shrewdly in Jud's favor.
But it was Jud himself who proved to be David's trump card. He was keen, crafty, and quick to seize his lawyer's most subtle suggestions.
His memory was accurate, and with David's steering he avoided all traps set for him on cross examination. When David stood before the jury for the most stubborn fight he had yet made, his mother's last piece of advice--all she had to bequeath to him--permeated every effort. He put into his argument all the compelling force within him.
There were no ornate sentences this time, but he concentrated his powers of logic and persuasiveness upon his task. The jury was out two hours, during which time Barnabas and Jud sat side by side, pale and anxious, but upheld by David's confident a.s.surance of victory.
He kept his word. Jud was cleared.
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