Force and Fraud (21 page)

But the moment of parting has arrived. Flora is again confided to the care of Pierce, and Herbert Lindsey is once more alone.

 

The building which served as the court, in the town where the trial of Herbert Lindsey was to take place, had been crowded from an early hour; and the reserve in which the building stood was likewise thronged with persons of all conditions, anxious to know the fate of the prisoner. Summer was drawing to a close, but the day was nevertheless extremely hot – thick dust in some places, a quartz soil in others, scorching and blistering the feet of the bystanders long before the hour when the sun had attained its full power.

Most oppressive would be the heat in that courthouse during the long afternoon; but dread of this seemed not to deter the eager crowd. On they came, through the burning streets, along the ill-made road and over the vast plains; in carriages, coaches, buggies, dog-carts, gigs, drays, and all sorts of conveyances, light and heavy. On they came, mounted on thoroughbred horses, on horses half broken, and on horses of every description; slowly pacing along, or furiously galloping, according to the distance of the journey, or their own previous delay.

The assizes naturally bring a number of persons to any town where they are held, but these persons are, generally speaking, either officially connected with the business on hand, or attend ‘on compulsion' as witnesses. On this occasion, however, interest in the prisoner more than trebled the number of those who sought temporary accommodation in the various
hostelries.

A thriving trade the proprietors of these establishments would drive, for a few days at least. Beds had been bespoken beforehand, extra cooks engaged, and an extra quantity of provisions laid in; stables were overcrowded, and grooms everywhere in request. Breakfasts were prepared soon after dawn, and they seemed likely to succeed each other till after dinner.

But as we have lost sight of Mrs Roberts since the confiscation of her ‘Rubbish Drawer', we will briefly state that after having been examined, she was allowed to go free, and is not suspected of being accessory to the murder, although she was ordered to attend as a witness.

“And if I don't give them the benefit of my tongue, may I bite it out,” she exclaimed to her friend Mrs Busselman – a lady who exercised the same
metier
as herself, and in whose hotel she took up her quarters during the trial.

Harry Saunders, who had likewise been subpoenaed, was abiding in another hotel but, unlike Mrs Roberts, he determined to say as little as possible. These two witnesses had long since known that
their
attendance would be required; neither was Mr Philip Garlick greatly surprised when informed that he would be called upon to give evidence.

His sister Bessie, however, and Mr Speedy, were – to use the language of the latter –
taken aback.
The young gentleman, who was rather glad of an excuse to cut the lectures at the University for a week, bought a very swell looking suit, and did his best to train his moustache for the occasion. The young lady thought it would be good fun to be a witness, and said she would treat the barristers to plenty of sauce; but, as the time approached, her courage seemed to be
oozing out of the palms
of her hands; at least her hands were very hot, and her new gloves very soon split; but that might have been caused by her tight-fitting dress, and the violent efforts of the two house-maids to squeeze in her waist.

Pierce Silverton, Mr Roberts, and old Andrew Ross were also in court, but not the Highland bushman.

And where was Flora?

She had no friends with whom she could reside during these anxious days, so there she sat in a small upper room of the Royal Victorian that commanded a view of the courthouse. Her landlady – Mrs Busselman, already mentioned – was very attentive, and Mrs Roberts extremely sympathising. Every dainty was forced upon her; but she could neither eat nor drink, neither sleep nor talk, nor do anything but think of Herbert. Yes, she could do one thing more – she could
pray
for him!

The courthouse was approached by a deep porch, entered by two side doors. Within this porch some shade was to be found, and also under the verandah at the back of the building, every other part of which was exposed to the scorching sun.

A great many policemen were in attendance, many of whom consisted of that part of the force denominated the mounted police. No attempt at rescue had yet been made, and this was chiefly attributed to rumour; nevertheless, it was considered prudent to have these gentlemen at hand, as a crowd of stalwart young fellows had sworn, even if Lindsey were found guilty, that the extreme penalty of the law should not be carried into effect. As the compulsory attendants on authority and the voluntary attendants on the prisoner were pretty nearly matched in strength, a thought suggested itself to one or two observers: that a riot would be a formidable thing, if determined men were united in purpose and knew what they wanted; which, it is perhaps fortunate, they seldom do.

Very crowded was the courthouse, many persons being refused admittance, and others advised not to press in such numbers into the gallery for, though it looked so strong, yet nobody knew if the pillars could bear the weight, as they had never been tried to that extent before. But even personal danger seemed to be little regarded, so great was the excitement about the trial.

A half-suppressed murmur of “There he is!” escaped the crowd as the prisoner entered the dock. Paler than usual was Herbert Lindsey, but perfectly calm; carefully dressed in black, and of a most gentlemanly appearance. He surveyed the judge, the jury, the crowd and smiled, but rather with the eyes than the lips, as he recognised his friends.

The first formalities were concluded, and, in a clear voice he pleaded “Not Guilty!” after which commenced the hearing of the evidence for the prosecution. In fact it seemed like a repetition of the examination, although several other links were added to the chain, slight in themselves, but adding strength, as they served to connect what otherwise would have fallen apart. The bowie knife, the strips of linen, the stains on his own garments, the dark brown hair found on the scrub so closely resembling that of the prisoner, all these were enumerated.

Harry Saunders was examined; and, in a low tone – with evident reluctance but without prevarication – he testified to having seen blood on the wrist of the artist, as well as dripping from the sponge; neither could he deny that the prisoner seemed agitated on perceiving the state of the sponge. But, when asked if he had previously looked like a man troubled in mind, he replied, more emphatically than he had hitherto spoken, “No – not a bit of it!”

The
motive
was urged – the animosity of Mr McAlpin to his daughter's suitor; and
then
an angry flush suffused the brow of Herbert Lindsey as the name of her he loved was uttered in that court.

His own exclamation, “Blood – blood on my hands, and on my soul for ever,” which it will be remembered had been heard by the policemen who came to arrest him, next formed a subject of comment. Then the handkerchief was produced, which Mrs Roberts was compelled to identify, crumpled and soiled as it was, as if a blood-stained hand had clutched it from the throat of the murderer; evidently the fingers of the victim had been dyed in his own gore. Many persons turned away sickened at the sight; and, as it was observed, the prisoner more than all.

The question of the handkerchief having brought forward Mrs Roberts, it was not easy to keep her to the point, for she persisted in saying, “Though I did find the handkerchief, that does not make
him
out to be a murderer. He might have taken it to tie up the bushman's leg; he might have–”

And when told that her suggestions were not required, she added, “Faith, then, it's easier to set a woman a talking than to get her to stop; and I'll engage that some o' ye that's got wives knows that!”

A little interruption was caused by this sally of Mrs Roberts but, after order was again restored, attention was directed to a small camel hair pencil, and to a saucer of porcelain, in which a tint of ultramarine had been mixed. These articles had been discovered near the place where the body was found; what more likely than that the artist's paint box should have been upset in the struggle? The various objects that had undoubtedly belonged to the prisoner, the suspicious motive, and the absence of anyone else on the spot all combined to fix the guilt on Herbert. And when the evidence for the prosecution was concluded, many persons who had previously supposed him to be innocent, now changed their minds; and more still hesitated. The defence was not to be entered into till the morrow, and the court rose at a late hour.

Still more intense was the anxiety on the following day, when the defence was opened, though it was expected to be very feeble; for what was there in the prisoner's favour, save the testimony of good character and honourable principles, as sworn to by certain individuals? These, however, were numerous, many having come a great distance for no other purpose.

Some surprise was, however, manifested when the prisoner's counsel seemed to make a point of the mystery connected with the snuff-box. This article – according to the evidence of Saunders – was in the possession of McAlpin the morning he rode forth for the last time; was afterwards found in the dressing-table of Mr Silverton, who said it had been given to him – according to the oath of Mr John Speedy – as a keepsake from a man named Smith, on his departure for England; but – according to the statement of Mr Silverton himself – by McAlpin.

“Mr Silverton did not take snuff – then why give the box to him?”

“To get the cairngorm in the lid fastened, it having become loose.”

“What jeweller had done this?”

“Mr Silverton had done it himself?”

“Then he must be very expert, as no trace of the stone having been loosened was apparent.”

But as there was no reason why Mr Silverton should not be an amateur jeweller, the incident of the snuff-box was considered frivolous, at least until it obtained a little more importance; in the first place from the statement of old Andrew Ross, which statement, though rather tedious, was certainly clear; and in the second place, by the explanation of Miss Bessie Garlick – if the term
explanation
could apply to that young lady's confused and contradictory answers.

Poor Bessie! The tables were turned; and she herself received a rebuff instead of bestowing one on the counsel, as she had intended.

Some questions were then asked of her respecting the man Smith who, according to the version of Mr Speedy, had left the snuff-box with Mr Silverton, and who had slept in that gentleman's room the night before his departure.

“Very condescending on the part of Silverton! What induced him to take so deep an interest in this person?”

“Mr Silverton explained, that ‘Smith, having a large sum of money about him, would otherwise probably have gone to a low public-house, have got drunk, and in the morning have found himself penniless'. Surely that was no unusual occurrence in the colony?”

“Unfortunately not. Then, it was presumed that Mr Silverton had taken care of the man from a motive of Christian charity. Was he in the habit of exercising his benevolence in that disinterested manner?”

“No, but he felt for this person, as having been an old servant of his late friend.”

“Did anyone remember a man named John Smith who had been in the employ of the late Angus McAlpin?”

Several persons remembered two individuals known by these two names, but as no one could tell where either of them resided – as they had both been discharged some time ago – all that resulted was that Mr Silverton's protégé was called ‘John Smith', that he had gone to London, and had a mother living, somewhere.

A few people thought that this catechising would give a favourable turn to the prisoner's case; but, if so, Mr Pierce Silverton might be open to suspicion, and this could not be, as Mr Dixon (the gentleman who had come forward at the examination) stated that
he
had seen McAlpin
after
Mr Silverton had parted with him; and that he himself and the said Mr Silverton had ridden on together, and been in each other's company for several hours. In short, the prisoner, and the prisoner
only,
could be traced to the spot, at the time when the murder was committed.

It was presumed by a few persons in court, that Mrs Roberts' suggestion respecting the silk handkerchief having been used as a bandage might have been taken up by the counsel for the defence. But the prisoner himself had denied this, saying that early in the morning, in fact, just after starting on his journey, he had bathed in the river; and on afterwards looking for his neck-tie, could not find it, and at last, supposing it had blown away, gave up the search. But, as the distance between the river and the place where the body had been found, was fully nine miles, it could scarcely have blown so far. This statement told greatly against the prisoner; nor would the suggestion of the bandage have served him much, as the very existence of the bushman was doubted.

His counsel made the best of a bad cause, and expressed the greatest indignation at the idea of fixing
such
a crime on
such
a man.

Whilst in the midst of the defence, Mr Roberts was called out of court. Old Andrew Ross, tired perhaps of the proceedings, had also gone away,
his
absence had not been observed; and probably that of Roberts might not have been, if he had not knocked someone over in his impatience to get out, and thus created a disturbance. But this was soon forgotten in the feverish excitement of the hour, the conviction that, although the learned barrister was talking most eloquently, he was talking
in vain.

Presently, a piece of twisted paper stuck on a pole, was handed to the barrister, over the heads of the crowd; he read it, and whispered to the judge. At that moment, a great clamour was heard without; there was a rush towards the building; and a shout.