* * * * *I had proceeded thus far in my reading when I stopped and looked at my friends. Clara was listening with her mouth open, and did not seem as if she would tolerate any interruption. Monk sat silently in an armchair in the darkest corner of the room."Shall I continue?" I asked, "or will you allow me to ask a question?""I would rather you read the newspaper account to the end, first," was Monk's answer; and I heard by the tone of his voice that he was unusually agitated."Yes, go on reading, and let us hear what happens," said Clara, trying to look over my shoulder.I read as follows:—... The examination of the witnesses for the defence was concluded, and the public prosecutor rose. His speech was short and pithy.He thought all must agree that the charge he had preferred against the accused had been fully proved by the evidence given in court.With regard to the responsibility of the accused, he also believed that this had been asserted beyond all doubt; the opinion of the medical men was definite, and the evidence by which the defence had attempted to weaken these were but of little value. He did not believe for a moment the counsel for the defence would seriously question the responsibility of the accused. That the feeling of having committed a great crime, and of having to answer for it, might have caused the conduct of the accused to appear strange, and to some degree self-contradictory, was only natural.That the accused had retracted her first confession, and later on had refused to give any explanation whatever in the court, might perhaps surprise some, but it could in no way weaken the clear and distinct proofs of her guilt. It was perhaps to be regretted that the police had not succeeded in ascertaining where the money for the stolen object had disappeared to, as this circumstance prevented any possible accomplices being brought to justice. It was likewise to be regretted that motives for the crime could not be sufficiently explained; but the accused was no doubt herself principally to be blamed for this, through her persistent silence. None of these circumstances ought, however, to have any influence upon the answer of the jury to the question, "Guilty or not guilty?"The counsel for the accused rose to begin his speech for the defence. He seemed at first to be somewhat uncertain, but he soon decided upon the line he would take.He did not want to conceal, he said, that he was in a very difficult position, and the one who made his position most difficult of all was his client.All had heard that the young girl who was charged with having stolen the diamond, which was now lying upon the table in court, had at first confessed, but had afterward retracted her confession, and otherwise refused any information whatsoever in the matter. But what every one, in all probability, did not know, was that she had maintained the same silence with regard to him, her counsel and adviser. He had not succeeded in getting a single word from her lips, except the assurance that she would say nothing, would answer no questions, and would give no information. "I thought it only right," continued the young advocate, "to make this open declaration, in order that my inability to give information which might be to the advantage of my client, should not be misunderstood. You must not believe that I have received any information from her, and that I have not found it to her advantage to make use of it."It appears to me, and I hope the gentlemen of the jury will agree with me, that the unfortunate girl, paralyzed by the terrible blow of suspicion which has fallen upon her, and feeling how terribly hopeless her case is, through the strong appearances against her at almost every step, has found it expedient to draw within herself and keep silence, just as the hunted deer withdraws to its cave, even if death awaits it there. No one has a right to construe my client's silence as a confession, or the result of a consciousness of guilt."The diamond was stolen in the interval between five and half-past seven in the afternoon. Of these two hours and a half my client spent only half an hour's time within the walls of Villa Ballarat, while many persons were present there during the whole time. It has been proved, says the public prosecutor, that no stranger could have gained admission there during that time; but can we be so sure of that? An agile man can easily climb over the railings—no one will deny that. The police examined the ground round about, and no trace was found, may be said in objection. But we know that expert criminals are often very dexterous in destroying all traces after them; and no one will maintain that the police are so infallible that a trace cannot have escaped them."One need not be gifted with great acuteness in order to guess what is passing through the minds of the gentlemen of the jury at this moment: what can be the use of all this? The main proofs against the accused still remain unassailable. But let us look into some of these proofs which, according to the opinion of the public prosecutor, are so strong that they are even more reliable than a confession. The old man who bought the diamond has himself said that he bought it of the young girl whom I defend, and there can be no doubt about this, although he has not appeared in court as witness; we have the evidence of the head of the detective department with regard to it, and that must be sufficient. But—here is also a 'but,' just as there is a 'but' in all the so-called infallible circumstantial evidence against the accused—is, then, the word of an imbecile man in his second childhood to be fully depended upon—a man who immediately afterward is declared incapable of managing his own affairs; who is so infatuated with his mania that he, whose honesty is otherwise not for a moment to be doubted after a long life of spotless integrity, buys a diamond which he knows must have been stolen? Shall the evidence of such a man decide the fate of a human being? And besides, is this man's evidence quite impartial? We have heard, from the account of the chief of the detectives, that the old man tried to conceal the fact that he was in possession of the diamond; in his imbecility he is, however, conscious that he has done something wrong, and is, to a certain degree, cunning, and on his guard. What, then, is more probable than that he, who sees that he has been discovered, is wily enough to give an explanation which makes it probable that a servant would have the disposal of the diamond at her command? Who dares maintain that the old man spoke the truth on this occasion? It is, however, just as much, if not more probable, that he resorted to telling the first untruth that came into his head!"And what has become of the five thousand kroners, which he says he has paid for the diamond?"It has not been possible to ascertain, says my opponent; but on the whole he seems to lay little stress upon the circumstance."It seems to me that this circumstance—that no trace whatever has been discovered of the money—is quite an important one. We know that the most able detectives have been engaged in tracing it—even the fiancé of my client was arrested in Copenhagen in consequence thereof; both she and her mother have been watched most closely—but still no clue. Are not these circumstances important? Is there not more than one proof that the police have been on the wrong track, that the thief is not the one who has been arrested, and that they have been investigating in a direction where there was nothing to look for?"But it may be said that the principal proof still remains unshaken; the accused has, by a remarkable coincidence, been photographed in the act of committing the theft, that cannot be denied or explained away; yes—I venture to maintain there is no proof of the guilt of the accused in this. I admit that most probably it is the young girl who has been photographed on this film. The hat and the jacket which she wears were given to her by Miss Frick about six o'clock in the afternoon of the same day: this we know from the evidence; likewise that she wore the same clothes when she called on her mother between half-past six and seven. I admit there is a probability which approaches to certainty, that it is my client who, in the photograph here, is standing in front of Mr. Frick's cupboard in the so-called museum. One can also see that she is holding some object in her hand. Yes, I even go so far as to admit that she is most likely looking at the black diamond. But from this moment my conclusions cease to coincide with those of the public prosecutor."Why should it follow that she also took the diamond with her?"What if my client, on passing through the garden and seeing the door open to the museum, goes inside, and out of curiosity has a look at the black diamond about which there has been so much talk among the people of the house while she was serving the coffee in the afternoon, and then puts it back again and passes out through the garden, on her way to her mother? What if she, later on, after hearing of the robbery, understands that she has been imprudent, and then does a still more imprudent thing by trying to conceal her visit to the museum, and finally, when almost crushed under the shame and fear of being arrested, acts as she afterward did?"I ask any person of common sense, is there anything more improbable than that this young girl, who has always shown the most exemplary honesty, should commit this daring theft without any special motive? This young girl, who was not in need, and who in her master's house had found a home almost as if she were one of the family—this young girl who knew that if she were in want of money for any special object her young mistress would not deny her it, even if it were a considerable sum!"Is this more probable than that her presence in the museum was due to an accidental circumstance of no significance, and that the theft has afterward been committed by some one else?"The counsel for the defence was here interrupted in a manner which was no doubt flattering to him; from the audience came the sound of more than one heartyBravo!while a hoarse voice, full of sincere conviction, exclaimed, "Ah! he's about right there."Silence was soon obtained, and the counsel concluded his speech thus: "It is an old experience of the court that the chain of evidence which seems strongest, and in which the links seem to fit exactly into each other, is in reality most often the weakest. I will ask the jury to bear this in mind. And I believe that I have at least shown you that in the chain of the public prosecutor which seemed to fit so beautifully there is not one link which can be called faultless."The counsel resumed his seat, and the public made an attempt to applaud him, but the judge quickly imposed silence, and the public prosecutor rose to reply.He had followed the speech of the counsel for the defence with interest and approval, the latter no doubt arising from the same cause which had dictated the applause of the public—that is to say, admiration of the counsel's ability to make something out of nothing, or of an inconvenient subject. At this point the public prosecutor nodded in a friendly way across to the counsel for the defence, who smiled in return.He found, on the whole, his chain of evidence so little weakened by what the defence had brought forward, that he did not think it necessary to go through it again. He had such great confidence in the intelligence of the jury that he would take it for granted they would have remarked, without his pointing it out to them, that where he had produced facts, or probabilities which almost amounted to facts, the counsel for the defence had only set up possibilities, and even improbable possibilities—with this, he would leave the matter in the hands of the jury.The counsel for the defence then proceeded to make his final speech.The public prosecutor had himself admitted that there were possibilities that the theft had not been committed in the way the prosecution had asserted. It would be the duty of the jury to decide as to the probability or improbability of the possibilities. He would conclude by saying that when to these possibilities was added the stainless life of his client, and the good character she bore from all quarters—no one had brought forward anything to the contrary—as well as the circumstance that no one had been able to show any particular motive for the young girl's suddenly committing a criminal act; and finally, that it had not been possible, in spite of the most energetic exertions of the police, to show that his client had been in possession of, or disposed of the money which was to have been the reward of the crime of which she was accused—then he did not doubt that the conscientious jury would not pronounce the fateful "Yes" to the question "Guilty?"The counsel sat down, but no applause was heard this time from the public. All seemed to be convinced that his exertions had been in vain.The time approached when the jurymen had to retire. All seemed to feel that their deliberations would be short, and the result an unanimous verdict of guilty.Of what avail could be the eloquence or the cunning subterfuges of a counsel, against proofs and facts as clear as those which the public prosecutor had produced?The judge asked the accused if she had anything to say. Her counsel leaned toward her, and appeared to be urging something earnestly upon her; but she only shook her head, as before, and the young man sat down with an air of resignation.CHAPTER IITHE PHOTOGRAPH CANNOT LIEThe public prosecutor had begun to read the questions which were to be laid before the jury, when he was interrupted by a noise from the back of the court. Many of the public rose from their seats in order to see better.What could be the matter?A messenger of the court had forced his way through the crowd to the counsel for the defence, and handed him a letter, saying a few words, which those nearest to him could hear. The messenger said, "You must read it at once, sir; it has to do with the case now before the court."The counsel tore open the envelope, read, passed his hand across his forehead, and read the letter again.He crushed the paper in his hand, stepped quickly forward, and as the public prosecutor had not resumed his reading, he addressed himself to the judge, saying, "I must ask that an hour's postponement be granted to my client; in that time I believe I can bring before you, gentlemen, evidence which will throw a new light upon the case."* * * * *An hour passed by, perhaps a little more, and the court was again sitting. The room was, if possible, even more crowded than before; no one had been willing to give up his seat, and there were new arrivals.The silence which reigned showed the excitement that possessed everybody.The counsel for the defence asked to be allowed to examine the chief of the detective staff once more.The young officer stepped forward, and took his place in the witness box in his usual quiet manner, although astonishment was plainly written on his face.The counsel: "You have already told us that when you paid a visit to Mr. Jurgens and so skilfully got him to give up the diamond, he then told you that he had bought it from the accused, Evelina Reierson. Isn't that so?""Yes."Counsel: "Did he seem to be in any doubt as to whom he had bought the diamond from?"The detective blushed at this question, but his answer was as unconstrained and calm as before."No, he gave me the impression that he was sure it was the accused."Counsel: "Did he name any one else who could possibly have sold him the diamond?""At first he began, with some confused nonsense, to excuse himself, but it was of no significance to the case."Counsel: "I must ask you, however, to give the name or the names which Mr. Jurgens mentioned in connection with the diamond."One could see that the officer was angry at the importunate examination, and that he had to exert himself to the utmost, in order to answer calmly."Mr. Jurgens seemed at first to be somewhat frightened at the consequences of his transaction, and in order to excuse himself, he began with some nonsense about having bought the diamond from—from a person who is nearly related to Mr. Frick, and who was supposed to have received the diamond from him as a present."Counsel: "What did you do to get him to speak the truth?"The detective hesitated a moment, and grew redder still in the face. At last he answered firmly and distinctly:—"He first mentioned Miss Frick as having sold him the diamond, and that she had said she had got it as a present from her uncle. This was as much as to say that the young lady, for whom I have—have the greatest respect, is a thief and a liar, as information of the robbery was given to the police by her uncle; and I then forgot myself for the moment and seized hold of the old man—but of course only for a moment!"Counsel: "It was after you let go of him that he gave the name of Evelina Reierson?""Yes; but as you will understand—"Counsel(interrupting): "I have for the present nothing further to ask you.""Well, I never heard such—" exclaimed a powerful voice. It was old Frick who rose, red as a turkey cock in the face; the judge himself had to call him to order.Mr. Monk still stood in the same place, biting his lips. Miss Frick stared at him with an astonished expression. As yet she suspected nothing.But the attention of the public was soon engrossed by a new witness whom the counsel for the defence brought forward. He was a tall, squarely-built man, with broad round shoulders, and black hair and beard; he was dressed in shiny, threadbare black clothes.The examination was begun by the judge. The witness seemed quite unwilling to be examined."Your name?""Abraham Abrahamson.""How old are you?""Fifty-three years old.""What is your calling?""Pawnbroker and commission agent.""Where do you live?""Bishop Street, No. 75.""Do you know anything about the case which is before the jury to-day?""I have read about it in the papers.""Have you had anything to do with any of the persons in the case, or have you in any other way obtained any information which may be of importance in this matter?""I know several persons here by sight"—the witness looked round the court with his sharp, dark eyes—"but I did not believe I could give any information which could be of use to the court, until I was sent for half an hour ago."The judge concluded, and left the further examination to the counsel for the defence.Counsel: "Do you know this young girl, Evelina Reierson?"Witness: "She has been once or twice to my place, on business."Counsel: "On what sort of business?"Witness(unwillingly): "To pawn a few small things."Counsel: "What sort of small things?"Witness: "As far as I can remember, they were some rings and a pair of earrings."Suddenly Miss Frick's voice was heard—not loud, but clear and distinct:—"The rings and earrings she got from me. They were presents, and she could do as she liked with them."The judge enjoined the young lady in a friendly but decided tone not to speak until she was questioned, and the young lady sat down, blushing.Counsel: "Had you a visit from the young girl on the 10th of May last?"Witness: "Yes, most likely."Counsel: "Most likely? Be good enough to explain yourself more clearly; or does it mean that you remember nothing about that day?"Witness: "Well, yes, I can well enough explain what I mean. I have nothing to hide—the law and the police I have always esteemed and respected"—here an ironical voice was heard exclaiming:—"You are about right there, Abrahamson!" which was followed by loud laughter.The witness, with a scornful glance at the corner where the interruption came from, continued: "No, I have nothing to hide. On the 10th of May a lady came to me and asked if I would lend her some money on some jewelry,—a lot of rings, brooches, and bracelets with precious stones in them. She had a veil over her face; but I thought I recognized the young girl whom you call Evelina Reierson."Counsel: "Was it not, then, the young girl who sits here?"Witness: "I don't know."Counsel: "Don't know?"Witness: "If you will give me time, you shall hear. I said at once that I could not accept such valuable things, unless she could show she was authorized to pawn them. Then she answered that if we came to an understanding, she would prove she was the owner of the jewelry. I looked at the things, and said that if everything was all right, I could lend her two thousand kroners on them. She knew that the things were worth five thousand kroners, she said, and if I could give her four thousand, I could buy them of her. I must have time to examine them, I explained. But she would not let me. She seemed on the point of crying, and asked me for God's sake to give her four thousand kroners immediately; she would willingly give me a few more valuable things later on, or pay me something back. Then I thought the matter looked rather suspicious, and did not like to have anything more to do with her, so she left."Counsel: "Didn't you try to find out if it was the girl, Evelina Reierson, or not?"Witness(after hesitating awhile before answering): "Yes, I did; for I am a law-abiding man, who likes to give the police a helping hand."Counsel: "Yes, we know that, but what did you do?"Witness: "I sent a boy in my office after her. He sat up behind the carriage—for she had come in a hired carriage which waited outside—and he saw her go into a house in Drammen Road."Counsel: "Was it Mr. Frick's house?"Witness: "Yes, so the boy said."Counsel: "But you took it as a proof that it really was Evelina Reierson?"Witness: "Yes, but I am not sure that it was she, after all, for she had a veil on, and then I don't know Evelina Reierson so very well."Counsel: "How was the lady dressed?"Witness: "She had on a green hat with a feather in it, and a jacket braided in front and at the back."Counsel: "Do you remember this distinctly?"Witness: "Yes, I am not so unaccustomed to using my eyes, and I thought it best to notice her dress, in case the police should ask me about the matter, later on."Counsel: "What time was it when the lady visited you?"Witness: "It must have been twenty minutes past five when she came, for she was with me a quarter of an hour, and when she left it was twenty-five minutes to six."Counsel: "Was it also with regard to the possibility of inquiries from the police that you looked at the clock when the lady left you?"Witness: "Yes."Counsel: "You are quite certain about the time, then?"Witness: "Yes, quite certain; I conferred with my clerk."The case had proceeded thus far when a great commotion in the court caused the examination to be interrupted. It is superfluous to remark that the two last witnesses had made a deep impression upon all who were present at the hearing of this remarkable case, and the excitement among the audience rose as the examination progressed.The pawnbroker's last words fell in complete silence, but only to be followed by murmurings and noise.The alarm threatened to throw the court into confusion, when suddenly a cry was heard, "She is fainting!" A large crowd had gathered round Miss Frick, and old Frick was seen in the middle of it, gesticulating wildly, while the young girl leant back on the seat with a handkerchief over her face. Mr. Monk forced his way up to her, and with the consent of the judge conducted her out of the court.The judge then proceeded to call for order. It did not take him long, for the threat to have the court cleared had immediate effect. No one wished to lose the last act of the drama.The counsel for the defence did not wish to examine the pawnbroker any further. The public prosecutor had, in the meantime, nothing to comment upon, and the young counsel was called upon to proceed.He began with thanking the court for giving him the postponement he had asked for,—a postponement which had enabled him not only to obtain valuable evidence, but which had also given him positive means of proving his client's innocence of the robbery of the diamond. He continued:—"If any one believes that my purpose in calling the witness Abrahamson, and in putting new questions to the chief of the detective force, was to throw the guilt of the robbery upon another, he is mistaken. It is certainly unavoidable that at the same time my client's innocence is brought to light, so at the same time the attention is led into another direction, and the ministers of justice have perhaps already found a new object in their search after the guilty person. But that is a matter which does not concern me. It only goes to prove that the young girl whose defence has been intrusted to me is innocent—that the circumstantial evidence which appeared so strong against her, on the contrary speaks in her favour when seen in the right light."The object of my last examination of the chief detective and the witness Abrahamson was only to show that mistakes can be made, and in this case have been made with regard to the identity of the accused. Mr. Jurgens said at first it was another person who had sold the diamond to him, and it was only after the chief detective had treated the old man in, let us call it, a less polite manner, that he mentioned the name of the accused. The witness Abrahamson believed he received a visit from the accused on the same day the diamond was stolen. It appeared, however, that the lady whom he supposed was his client was dressed in clothes which she only became possessed of later in the day. We have Miss Frick's sworn evidence to the effect that she herself wore the braided costume between five and six o'clock, and only made a present of these clothes to the accused at about six o'clock."It is, as I have already said, not my object to accuse any other person, and I will give up the inquiry as to whether it was Miss Frick herself who visited the pawnbroker that day; my object is only to show that if Mr. Jurgens has mistaken another woman for my client, Evelina Reierson, it is not at any rate the first time that day that she was the object of a mistaken identity."What I have now adduced ought in itself to be sufficient to change the opinion of the jury, if they have hitherto considered my client to be guilty. But I am in the fortunate position of being able to prove that what has hitherto appeared to be the most weighty evidence against my client is, on the contrary, the clearest proof of her innocence. I refer here to the circumstance that the witness, Mr. Howell, has declared that he, at the time when the theft must have been committed, had seen the accused in front of the cupboard where the diamond was kept, and that he had even photographed her in this position. The photograph, in which all will recognize my client, is now here in court. When I say that I can prove that this circumstantial evidence is false, I mean that here, also, we have a case of mistaken identity, and I can prove that the person who is photographed here (he took the photograph in his hand) is not, and cannot be, the accused. The proof is a simple one, although I must confess that only an accident has enabled me to produce it. (The young counsel here pulled out a large magnifying glass from his pocket, and handed it, together with the photograph, to the judge.) Will the court, and the gentlemen of the jury, and I would ask my colleague, the public prosecutor, to do the same, look at the photograph through the magnifying glass? You will then, gentlemen, see that the person who has been photographed wears a ring on the ring finger of the left hand."Will you next examine the hand of the accused? When she was a little girl, she broke the ring finger of her left hand in a fall. The bone did not set properly, so that there is now a protuberance, which prevents her from wearing a ring on that finger."The counsel then raised the young girl's hand so that all could see it, to which she quietly submitted, but without lifting her eyes from the floor and without a change of expression on her waxen face."All will be able to convince themselves of the truth of this. I do not think that any declaration from a medical authority is necessary. And, gentlemen, let the magnifying glass show you yet another thing. You will at once see on the left of the lady's head an object on the shelf above. It is the little ivory elephant with the clock, of which mention has already been made in the course of evidence. The glass, gentlemen, will enable you not only to see the clock in the forehead of the elephant, but also to plainly discover the position of the hands. What time do the hands show? They show the time to be twenty minutes to six."Where was my client at that time? On this point we have full information from the evidence before us. She had not returned by this time. She only came in through the garden gate at five minutes to six. And she could not, under any circumstance, be dressed at twenty minutes to six in the jacket which she only received from Miss Frick at six o'clock, or shortly afterward!"Gentlemen, when you have assured yourselves as to the correctness of what I have told you, you will perhaps remember what the witness, Mr. Rodin, the able photographer, said in court:—"'The photograph cannot lie!'"With the permission of the court, I will postpone any further remarks till the jury have convinced themselves that everything is as I have stated."* * * * *For the first minute or so neither the judge's voice nor his hammer was of any avail; he had to submit to the loud applause which the public bestowed upon the young counsel, who bowed and smiled like an actor who is called before the curtain.* * * * *But the space of a newspaper is limited, and I must conclude my report as quickly as possible.The examination of the photograph took some time, as the judge and the jury had personally to assure themselves as to what the photograph could tell. To all appearances, they seemed to be satisfied with their investigations under the magnifying glass.Mr. Rodin and another well-known photographer, both of whom had been summoned as experts, declared with the greatest confidence that the evidence of the photograph could be relied upon, and when a medical witness declared that no ring of the usual dimension could be worn on the finger of the accused, the affair was settled.The jury disappeared, only to return at once, and the voice of the foreman rang out clearly when he pronounced the words "Not guilty" to the question, "Guilty or not guilty?"* * * * *Thus ends the account of the proceedings in one of our modern judicial dramas. No one can doubt that we shall hear of an epilogue which will probably result in a tragedy.Last night we received information that as soon as the proceedings in court were over, Miss Sigrid Frick was arrested, and charged with the theft of her uncle's diamond.* * * * *CHAPTER IIIIN THE DARKI put the newspaper cutting on the table, and looked at my listeners. Clara sat with her chin resting on her folded hands, and her elbows on the table, staring straight in front of her. Monk, who had again retired to the darkest corner of the room, now came forward. He was very pale, but his voice was calm as he said:—"Now I will continue. You must pardon me, if the rest of my story seems dry and businesslike, but it is the only way I can persuade myself to speak of it at all. There is, however, not much more to tell.""Yes, but tell me, Monk,—was Sigrid—Miss Frick, I should say—"It was Clara who spoke. She got up eagerly and went across to Monk."No, excuse me, Mrs. Viller, allow me to continue—in any case, for a little while. You have promised to hear me, in order, if possible, to advise and help me, so you must bear with my whim and not interrupt me just now. Later, I will answer anything that you want to ask me."Well, there are several things that happened in court, which the reporter did not mention; though I do not think that his report, together with what I have told you, has left you in the dark with regard to anything that could be of any help in the clearing up of the mystery in which the diamond robbery at old Frick's ended.There is only one thing which I must mention, since the reporter of theMorning Newsdid not include it. When the judge summed up, he took the opportunity to censure the conduct of the police in the case. He referred, he said, to the detective's conduct with regard to lawyer Jurgens. He was certainly convinced that it had never been his intention to exercise pressure on the old man, but that he had in a passion laid hands on him, a circumstance which, at the turn events had taken in the case, appeared in a very unfavourable light. The detective had also committed another error in not mentioning the incident when he gave evidence in court. The judge felt himself obliged to declare that this conduct might have aided the condemnation of an innocent person.Any one can understand in what a painful situation I found myself. The worst of it was, that I was obliged to admit that the judge was right,—painfully right. Also, the way in which I had conducted the case had contributed, to a great extent, in throwing a terrible suspicion upon the one who was the dearest to me in the world. So far, I did not as yet foresee the result of the turn which the affair had taken, and which in itself was so surprising, that one hardly had time to reflect before the judgment was given.I went home immediately, and tried to think over my position; but even then I saw only darkness around me. So I pulled myself together and went to the chief superintendent's office. He still sat there, although it was rather late in the evening. He was very serious."I have already been informed of what has taken place in court," he said; "and it pains me greatly to hear what has happened. My purpose in speaking of this, is to spare you giving any account of it. Wait! I have one thing to tell you before you answer—one thing which you ought to know as soon as possible. I have given orders for the arrest of Miss Frick."I had expected that some such thing must happen, and I succeeded in assuming an indifference which was anything but what I felt."I knew this must happen, sir," I answered, "and I have no doubt what I ought to do; I have come to ask you to accept my resignation in the police service. My written application I have not as yet made out, but you shall have it to-morrow. I ask you to consider it as already in your hands."The superintendent looked at me in a friendly way, pressed my hand, and said:—"I am sorry, more sorry than you can imagine; but I neither can, nor will, ask you to take back your resignation. What you have now said was just what I was prepared to hear from you.""Have you heard, sir, everything that took place in the court to-day?""Yes, I have obtained a verbatim report from the officer who was present the whole time.""And what is your opinion?""My opinion? I understand you do not refer any longer to yourself; you are thinking of the young girl whom I have been obliged to arrest,—well, what shall I say to you? If I say that no one but Miss Frick could have taken the diamond, then you will be angry with me; and if I say the contrary, you will think I am speaking against my conviction—isn't that so?"He was right, and I remained silent.As I moved to go, the superintendent took my hand again."You have met with a great misfortune, Monk,—a little carelessness on your part, a bagatelle which, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, would have resulted in nothing, has, by force of circumstances, driven you from a post which you have filled with much energy and ability. And if I am not mistaken, a greater misfortune has befallen, or, in any case is likely to befall, one whom you hold dear. With regard to the first, you are a man of energy, and it is hardly necessary to ask you not to lose courage; you have done nothing wrong, and the world is wide and generally repays one for one's labour. As for the latter, I have also some advice. Wait patiently! I read plainly in your face what you intend doing—you will use all your strength and energy in trying to prove this lady's innocence, against whom everything now seems to tell, and it is far from my intention to dissuade you in this—perhaps you will succeed. This much, experience has taught me,—that nothing is impossible. But should you not succeed—and who can tell? do not make the mistake of ruining your life for the sake of a woman—kinder to yourself and to her to break and have done with, it at once, before it shall be too late. Remember, too, that what is, is inevitable, and that one cannot build a house of bricks which are already crumbled to dust; break with it, the earlier the better—before it is too late—and do not attempt to produce the impossible from a thing which has already proved to be dust. If I can ever help you, now or later, then come to me without hesitancy."These were my superior's friendly and fatherly words. In the years which have passed by I have only spoken with him once since then upon this matter.
* * * * *
I had proceeded thus far in my reading when I stopped and looked at my friends. Clara was listening with her mouth open, and did not seem as if she would tolerate any interruption. Monk sat silently in an armchair in the darkest corner of the room.
"Shall I continue?" I asked, "or will you allow me to ask a question?"
"I would rather you read the newspaper account to the end, first," was Monk's answer; and I heard by the tone of his voice that he was unusually agitated.
"Yes, go on reading, and let us hear what happens," said Clara, trying to look over my shoulder.
I read as follows:—
... The examination of the witnesses for the defence was concluded, and the public prosecutor rose. His speech was short and pithy.
He thought all must agree that the charge he had preferred against the accused had been fully proved by the evidence given in court.
With regard to the responsibility of the accused, he also believed that this had been asserted beyond all doubt; the opinion of the medical men was definite, and the evidence by which the defence had attempted to weaken these were but of little value. He did not believe for a moment the counsel for the defence would seriously question the responsibility of the accused. That the feeling of having committed a great crime, and of having to answer for it, might have caused the conduct of the accused to appear strange, and to some degree self-contradictory, was only natural.
That the accused had retracted her first confession, and later on had refused to give any explanation whatever in the court, might perhaps surprise some, but it could in no way weaken the clear and distinct proofs of her guilt. It was perhaps to be regretted that the police had not succeeded in ascertaining where the money for the stolen object had disappeared to, as this circumstance prevented any possible accomplices being brought to justice. It was likewise to be regretted that motives for the crime could not be sufficiently explained; but the accused was no doubt herself principally to be blamed for this, through her persistent silence. None of these circumstances ought, however, to have any influence upon the answer of the jury to the question, "Guilty or not guilty?"
The counsel for the accused rose to begin his speech for the defence. He seemed at first to be somewhat uncertain, but he soon decided upon the line he would take.
He did not want to conceal, he said, that he was in a very difficult position, and the one who made his position most difficult of all was his client.
All had heard that the young girl who was charged with having stolen the diamond, which was now lying upon the table in court, had at first confessed, but had afterward retracted her confession, and otherwise refused any information whatsoever in the matter. But what every one, in all probability, did not know, was that she had maintained the same silence with regard to him, her counsel and adviser. He had not succeeded in getting a single word from her lips, except the assurance that she would say nothing, would answer no questions, and would give no information. "I thought it only right," continued the young advocate, "to make this open declaration, in order that my inability to give information which might be to the advantage of my client, should not be misunderstood. You must not believe that I have received any information from her, and that I have not found it to her advantage to make use of it.
"It appears to me, and I hope the gentlemen of the jury will agree with me, that the unfortunate girl, paralyzed by the terrible blow of suspicion which has fallen upon her, and feeling how terribly hopeless her case is, through the strong appearances against her at almost every step, has found it expedient to draw within herself and keep silence, just as the hunted deer withdraws to its cave, even if death awaits it there. No one has a right to construe my client's silence as a confession, or the result of a consciousness of guilt.
"The diamond was stolen in the interval between five and half-past seven in the afternoon. Of these two hours and a half my client spent only half an hour's time within the walls of Villa Ballarat, while many persons were present there during the whole time. It has been proved, says the public prosecutor, that no stranger could have gained admission there during that time; but can we be so sure of that? An agile man can easily climb over the railings—no one will deny that. The police examined the ground round about, and no trace was found, may be said in objection. But we know that expert criminals are often very dexterous in destroying all traces after them; and no one will maintain that the police are so infallible that a trace cannot have escaped them.
"One need not be gifted with great acuteness in order to guess what is passing through the minds of the gentlemen of the jury at this moment: what can be the use of all this? The main proofs against the accused still remain unassailable. But let us look into some of these proofs which, according to the opinion of the public prosecutor, are so strong that they are even more reliable than a confession. The old man who bought the diamond has himself said that he bought it of the young girl whom I defend, and there can be no doubt about this, although he has not appeared in court as witness; we have the evidence of the head of the detective department with regard to it, and that must be sufficient. But—here is also a 'but,' just as there is a 'but' in all the so-called infallible circumstantial evidence against the accused—is, then, the word of an imbecile man in his second childhood to be fully depended upon—a man who immediately afterward is declared incapable of managing his own affairs; who is so infatuated with his mania that he, whose honesty is otherwise not for a moment to be doubted after a long life of spotless integrity, buys a diamond which he knows must have been stolen? Shall the evidence of such a man decide the fate of a human being? And besides, is this man's evidence quite impartial? We have heard, from the account of the chief of the detectives, that the old man tried to conceal the fact that he was in possession of the diamond; in his imbecility he is, however, conscious that he has done something wrong, and is, to a certain degree, cunning, and on his guard. What, then, is more probable than that he, who sees that he has been discovered, is wily enough to give an explanation which makes it probable that a servant would have the disposal of the diamond at her command? Who dares maintain that the old man spoke the truth on this occasion? It is, however, just as much, if not more probable, that he resorted to telling the first untruth that came into his head!
"And what has become of the five thousand kroners, which he says he has paid for the diamond?
"It has not been possible to ascertain, says my opponent; but on the whole he seems to lay little stress upon the circumstance.
"It seems to me that this circumstance—that no trace whatever has been discovered of the money—is quite an important one. We know that the most able detectives have been engaged in tracing it—even the fiancé of my client was arrested in Copenhagen in consequence thereof; both she and her mother have been watched most closely—but still no clue. Are not these circumstances important? Is there not more than one proof that the police have been on the wrong track, that the thief is not the one who has been arrested, and that they have been investigating in a direction where there was nothing to look for?
"But it may be said that the principal proof still remains unshaken; the accused has, by a remarkable coincidence, been photographed in the act of committing the theft, that cannot be denied or explained away; yes—I venture to maintain there is no proof of the guilt of the accused in this. I admit that most probably it is the young girl who has been photographed on this film. The hat and the jacket which she wears were given to her by Miss Frick about six o'clock in the afternoon of the same day: this we know from the evidence; likewise that she wore the same clothes when she called on her mother between half-past six and seven. I admit there is a probability which approaches to certainty, that it is my client who, in the photograph here, is standing in front of Mr. Frick's cupboard in the so-called museum. One can also see that she is holding some object in her hand. Yes, I even go so far as to admit that she is most likely looking at the black diamond. But from this moment my conclusions cease to coincide with those of the public prosecutor.
"Why should it follow that she also took the diamond with her?
"What if my client, on passing through the garden and seeing the door open to the museum, goes inside, and out of curiosity has a look at the black diamond about which there has been so much talk among the people of the house while she was serving the coffee in the afternoon, and then puts it back again and passes out through the garden, on her way to her mother? What if she, later on, after hearing of the robbery, understands that she has been imprudent, and then does a still more imprudent thing by trying to conceal her visit to the museum, and finally, when almost crushed under the shame and fear of being arrested, acts as she afterward did?
"I ask any person of common sense, is there anything more improbable than that this young girl, who has always shown the most exemplary honesty, should commit this daring theft without any special motive? This young girl, who was not in need, and who in her master's house had found a home almost as if she were one of the family—this young girl who knew that if she were in want of money for any special object her young mistress would not deny her it, even if it were a considerable sum!
"Is this more probable than that her presence in the museum was due to an accidental circumstance of no significance, and that the theft has afterward been committed by some one else?"
The counsel for the defence was here interrupted in a manner which was no doubt flattering to him; from the audience came the sound of more than one heartyBravo!while a hoarse voice, full of sincere conviction, exclaimed, "Ah! he's about right there."
Silence was soon obtained, and the counsel concluded his speech thus: "It is an old experience of the court that the chain of evidence which seems strongest, and in which the links seem to fit exactly into each other, is in reality most often the weakest. I will ask the jury to bear this in mind. And I believe that I have at least shown you that in the chain of the public prosecutor which seemed to fit so beautifully there is not one link which can be called faultless."
The counsel resumed his seat, and the public made an attempt to applaud him, but the judge quickly imposed silence, and the public prosecutor rose to reply.
He had followed the speech of the counsel for the defence with interest and approval, the latter no doubt arising from the same cause which had dictated the applause of the public—that is to say, admiration of the counsel's ability to make something out of nothing, or of an inconvenient subject. At this point the public prosecutor nodded in a friendly way across to the counsel for the defence, who smiled in return.
He found, on the whole, his chain of evidence so little weakened by what the defence had brought forward, that he did not think it necessary to go through it again. He had such great confidence in the intelligence of the jury that he would take it for granted they would have remarked, without his pointing it out to them, that where he had produced facts, or probabilities which almost amounted to facts, the counsel for the defence had only set up possibilities, and even improbable possibilities—with this, he would leave the matter in the hands of the jury.
The counsel for the defence then proceeded to make his final speech.
The public prosecutor had himself admitted that there were possibilities that the theft had not been committed in the way the prosecution had asserted. It would be the duty of the jury to decide as to the probability or improbability of the possibilities. He would conclude by saying that when to these possibilities was added the stainless life of his client, and the good character she bore from all quarters—no one had brought forward anything to the contrary—as well as the circumstance that no one had been able to show any particular motive for the young girl's suddenly committing a criminal act; and finally, that it had not been possible, in spite of the most energetic exertions of the police, to show that his client had been in possession of, or disposed of the money which was to have been the reward of the crime of which she was accused—then he did not doubt that the conscientious jury would not pronounce the fateful "Yes" to the question "Guilty?"
The counsel sat down, but no applause was heard this time from the public. All seemed to be convinced that his exertions had been in vain.
The time approached when the jurymen had to retire. All seemed to feel that their deliberations would be short, and the result an unanimous verdict of guilty.
Of what avail could be the eloquence or the cunning subterfuges of a counsel, against proofs and facts as clear as those which the public prosecutor had produced?
The judge asked the accused if she had anything to say. Her counsel leaned toward her, and appeared to be urging something earnestly upon her; but she only shook her head, as before, and the young man sat down with an air of resignation.
CHAPTER II
THE PHOTOGRAPH CANNOT LIE
The public prosecutor had begun to read the questions which were to be laid before the jury, when he was interrupted by a noise from the back of the court. Many of the public rose from their seats in order to see better.
What could be the matter?
A messenger of the court had forced his way through the crowd to the counsel for the defence, and handed him a letter, saying a few words, which those nearest to him could hear. The messenger said, "You must read it at once, sir; it has to do with the case now before the court."
The counsel tore open the envelope, read, passed his hand across his forehead, and read the letter again.
He crushed the paper in his hand, stepped quickly forward, and as the public prosecutor had not resumed his reading, he addressed himself to the judge, saying, "I must ask that an hour's postponement be granted to my client; in that time I believe I can bring before you, gentlemen, evidence which will throw a new light upon the case."
* * * * *
An hour passed by, perhaps a little more, and the court was again sitting. The room was, if possible, even more crowded than before; no one had been willing to give up his seat, and there were new arrivals.
The silence which reigned showed the excitement that possessed everybody.
The counsel for the defence asked to be allowed to examine the chief of the detective staff once more.
The young officer stepped forward, and took his place in the witness box in his usual quiet manner, although astonishment was plainly written on his face.
The counsel: "You have already told us that when you paid a visit to Mr. Jurgens and so skilfully got him to give up the diamond, he then told you that he had bought it from the accused, Evelina Reierson. Isn't that so?"
"Yes."
Counsel: "Did he seem to be in any doubt as to whom he had bought the diamond from?"
The detective blushed at this question, but his answer was as unconstrained and calm as before.
"No, he gave me the impression that he was sure it was the accused."
Counsel: "Did he name any one else who could possibly have sold him the diamond?"
"At first he began, with some confused nonsense, to excuse himself, but it was of no significance to the case."
Counsel: "I must ask you, however, to give the name or the names which Mr. Jurgens mentioned in connection with the diamond."
One could see that the officer was angry at the importunate examination, and that he had to exert himself to the utmost, in order to answer calmly.
"Mr. Jurgens seemed at first to be somewhat frightened at the consequences of his transaction, and in order to excuse himself, he began with some nonsense about having bought the diamond from—from a person who is nearly related to Mr. Frick, and who was supposed to have received the diamond from him as a present."
Counsel: "What did you do to get him to speak the truth?"
The detective hesitated a moment, and grew redder still in the face. At last he answered firmly and distinctly:—
"He first mentioned Miss Frick as having sold him the diamond, and that she had said she had got it as a present from her uncle. This was as much as to say that the young lady, for whom I have—have the greatest respect, is a thief and a liar, as information of the robbery was given to the police by her uncle; and I then forgot myself for the moment and seized hold of the old man—but of course only for a moment!"
Counsel: "It was after you let go of him that he gave the name of Evelina Reierson?"
"Yes; but as you will understand—"
Counsel(interrupting): "I have for the present nothing further to ask you."
"Well, I never heard such—" exclaimed a powerful voice. It was old Frick who rose, red as a turkey cock in the face; the judge himself had to call him to order.
Mr. Monk still stood in the same place, biting his lips. Miss Frick stared at him with an astonished expression. As yet she suspected nothing.
But the attention of the public was soon engrossed by a new witness whom the counsel for the defence brought forward. He was a tall, squarely-built man, with broad round shoulders, and black hair and beard; he was dressed in shiny, threadbare black clothes.
The examination was begun by the judge. The witness seemed quite unwilling to be examined.
"Your name?"
"Abraham Abrahamson."
"How old are you?"
"Fifty-three years old."
"What is your calling?"
"Pawnbroker and commission agent."
"Where do you live?"
"Bishop Street, No. 75."
"Do you know anything about the case which is before the jury to-day?"
"I have read about it in the papers."
"Have you had anything to do with any of the persons in the case, or have you in any other way obtained any information which may be of importance in this matter?"
"I know several persons here by sight"—the witness looked round the court with his sharp, dark eyes—"but I did not believe I could give any information which could be of use to the court, until I was sent for half an hour ago."
The judge concluded, and left the further examination to the counsel for the defence.
Counsel: "Do you know this young girl, Evelina Reierson?"
Witness: "She has been once or twice to my place, on business."
Counsel: "On what sort of business?"
Witness(unwillingly): "To pawn a few small things."
Counsel: "What sort of small things?"
Witness: "As far as I can remember, they were some rings and a pair of earrings."
Suddenly Miss Frick's voice was heard—not loud, but clear and distinct:—
"The rings and earrings she got from me. They were presents, and she could do as she liked with them."
The judge enjoined the young lady in a friendly but decided tone not to speak until she was questioned, and the young lady sat down, blushing.
Counsel: "Had you a visit from the young girl on the 10th of May last?"
Witness: "Yes, most likely."
Counsel: "Most likely? Be good enough to explain yourself more clearly; or does it mean that you remember nothing about that day?"
Witness: "Well, yes, I can well enough explain what I mean. I have nothing to hide—the law and the police I have always esteemed and respected"—here an ironical voice was heard exclaiming:—
"You are about right there, Abrahamson!" which was followed by loud laughter.
The witness, with a scornful glance at the corner where the interruption came from, continued: "No, I have nothing to hide. On the 10th of May a lady came to me and asked if I would lend her some money on some jewelry,—a lot of rings, brooches, and bracelets with precious stones in them. She had a veil over her face; but I thought I recognized the young girl whom you call Evelina Reierson."
Counsel: "Was it not, then, the young girl who sits here?"
Witness: "I don't know."
Counsel: "Don't know?"
Witness: "If you will give me time, you shall hear. I said at once that I could not accept such valuable things, unless she could show she was authorized to pawn them. Then she answered that if we came to an understanding, she would prove she was the owner of the jewelry. I looked at the things, and said that if everything was all right, I could lend her two thousand kroners on them. She knew that the things were worth five thousand kroners, she said, and if I could give her four thousand, I could buy them of her. I must have time to examine them, I explained. But she would not let me. She seemed on the point of crying, and asked me for God's sake to give her four thousand kroners immediately; she would willingly give me a few more valuable things later on, or pay me something back. Then I thought the matter looked rather suspicious, and did not like to have anything more to do with her, so she left."
Counsel: "Didn't you try to find out if it was the girl, Evelina Reierson, or not?"
Witness(after hesitating awhile before answering): "Yes, I did; for I am a law-abiding man, who likes to give the police a helping hand."
Counsel: "Yes, we know that, but what did you do?"
Witness: "I sent a boy in my office after her. He sat up behind the carriage—for she had come in a hired carriage which waited outside—and he saw her go into a house in Drammen Road."
Counsel: "Was it Mr. Frick's house?"
Witness: "Yes, so the boy said."
Counsel: "But you took it as a proof that it really was Evelina Reierson?"
Witness: "Yes, but I am not sure that it was she, after all, for she had a veil on, and then I don't know Evelina Reierson so very well."
Counsel: "How was the lady dressed?"
Witness: "She had on a green hat with a feather in it, and a jacket braided in front and at the back."
Counsel: "Do you remember this distinctly?"
Witness: "Yes, I am not so unaccustomed to using my eyes, and I thought it best to notice her dress, in case the police should ask me about the matter, later on."
Counsel: "What time was it when the lady visited you?"
Witness: "It must have been twenty minutes past five when she came, for she was with me a quarter of an hour, and when she left it was twenty-five minutes to six."
Counsel: "Was it also with regard to the possibility of inquiries from the police that you looked at the clock when the lady left you?"
Witness: "Yes."
Counsel: "You are quite certain about the time, then?"
Witness: "Yes, quite certain; I conferred with my clerk."
The case had proceeded thus far when a great commotion in the court caused the examination to be interrupted. It is superfluous to remark that the two last witnesses had made a deep impression upon all who were present at the hearing of this remarkable case, and the excitement among the audience rose as the examination progressed.
The pawnbroker's last words fell in complete silence, but only to be followed by murmurings and noise.
The alarm threatened to throw the court into confusion, when suddenly a cry was heard, "She is fainting!" A large crowd had gathered round Miss Frick, and old Frick was seen in the middle of it, gesticulating wildly, while the young girl leant back on the seat with a handkerchief over her face. Mr. Monk forced his way up to her, and with the consent of the judge conducted her out of the court.
The judge then proceeded to call for order. It did not take him long, for the threat to have the court cleared had immediate effect. No one wished to lose the last act of the drama.
The counsel for the defence did not wish to examine the pawnbroker any further. The public prosecutor had, in the meantime, nothing to comment upon, and the young counsel was called upon to proceed.
He began with thanking the court for giving him the postponement he had asked for,—a postponement which had enabled him not only to obtain valuable evidence, but which had also given him positive means of proving his client's innocence of the robbery of the diamond. He continued:—
"If any one believes that my purpose in calling the witness Abrahamson, and in putting new questions to the chief of the detective force, was to throw the guilt of the robbery upon another, he is mistaken. It is certainly unavoidable that at the same time my client's innocence is brought to light, so at the same time the attention is led into another direction, and the ministers of justice have perhaps already found a new object in their search after the guilty person. But that is a matter which does not concern me. It only goes to prove that the young girl whose defence has been intrusted to me is innocent—that the circumstantial evidence which appeared so strong against her, on the contrary speaks in her favour when seen in the right light.
"The object of my last examination of the chief detective and the witness Abrahamson was only to show that mistakes can be made, and in this case have been made with regard to the identity of the accused. Mr. Jurgens said at first it was another person who had sold the diamond to him, and it was only after the chief detective had treated the old man in, let us call it, a less polite manner, that he mentioned the name of the accused. The witness Abrahamson believed he received a visit from the accused on the same day the diamond was stolen. It appeared, however, that the lady whom he supposed was his client was dressed in clothes which she only became possessed of later in the day. We have Miss Frick's sworn evidence to the effect that she herself wore the braided costume between five and six o'clock, and only made a present of these clothes to the accused at about six o'clock.
"It is, as I have already said, not my object to accuse any other person, and I will give up the inquiry as to whether it was Miss Frick herself who visited the pawnbroker that day; my object is only to show that if Mr. Jurgens has mistaken another woman for my client, Evelina Reierson, it is not at any rate the first time that day that she was the object of a mistaken identity.
"What I have now adduced ought in itself to be sufficient to change the opinion of the jury, if they have hitherto considered my client to be guilty. But I am in the fortunate position of being able to prove that what has hitherto appeared to be the most weighty evidence against my client is, on the contrary, the clearest proof of her innocence. I refer here to the circumstance that the witness, Mr. Howell, has declared that he, at the time when the theft must have been committed, had seen the accused in front of the cupboard where the diamond was kept, and that he had even photographed her in this position. The photograph, in which all will recognize my client, is now here in court. When I say that I can prove that this circumstantial evidence is false, I mean that here, also, we have a case of mistaken identity, and I can prove that the person who is photographed here (he took the photograph in his hand) is not, and cannot be, the accused. The proof is a simple one, although I must confess that only an accident has enabled me to produce it. (The young counsel here pulled out a large magnifying glass from his pocket, and handed it, together with the photograph, to the judge.) Will the court, and the gentlemen of the jury, and I would ask my colleague, the public prosecutor, to do the same, look at the photograph through the magnifying glass? You will then, gentlemen, see that the person who has been photographed wears a ring on the ring finger of the left hand.
"Will you next examine the hand of the accused? When she was a little girl, she broke the ring finger of her left hand in a fall. The bone did not set properly, so that there is now a protuberance, which prevents her from wearing a ring on that finger."
The counsel then raised the young girl's hand so that all could see it, to which she quietly submitted, but without lifting her eyes from the floor and without a change of expression on her waxen face.
"All will be able to convince themselves of the truth of this. I do not think that any declaration from a medical authority is necessary. And, gentlemen, let the magnifying glass show you yet another thing. You will at once see on the left of the lady's head an object on the shelf above. It is the little ivory elephant with the clock, of which mention has already been made in the course of evidence. The glass, gentlemen, will enable you not only to see the clock in the forehead of the elephant, but also to plainly discover the position of the hands. What time do the hands show? They show the time to be twenty minutes to six.
"Where was my client at that time? On this point we have full information from the evidence before us. She had not returned by this time. She only came in through the garden gate at five minutes to six. And she could not, under any circumstance, be dressed at twenty minutes to six in the jacket which she only received from Miss Frick at six o'clock, or shortly afterward!
"Gentlemen, when you have assured yourselves as to the correctness of what I have told you, you will perhaps remember what the witness, Mr. Rodin, the able photographer, said in court:—
"'The photograph cannot lie!'
"With the permission of the court, I will postpone any further remarks till the jury have convinced themselves that everything is as I have stated."
* * * * *
For the first minute or so neither the judge's voice nor his hammer was of any avail; he had to submit to the loud applause which the public bestowed upon the young counsel, who bowed and smiled like an actor who is called before the curtain.
* * * * *
But the space of a newspaper is limited, and I must conclude my report as quickly as possible.
The examination of the photograph took some time, as the judge and the jury had personally to assure themselves as to what the photograph could tell. To all appearances, they seemed to be satisfied with their investigations under the magnifying glass.
Mr. Rodin and another well-known photographer, both of whom had been summoned as experts, declared with the greatest confidence that the evidence of the photograph could be relied upon, and when a medical witness declared that no ring of the usual dimension could be worn on the finger of the accused, the affair was settled.
The jury disappeared, only to return at once, and the voice of the foreman rang out clearly when he pronounced the words "Not guilty" to the question, "Guilty or not guilty?"
* * * * *
Thus ends the account of the proceedings in one of our modern judicial dramas. No one can doubt that we shall hear of an epilogue which will probably result in a tragedy.
Last night we received information that as soon as the proceedings in court were over, Miss Sigrid Frick was arrested, and charged with the theft of her uncle's diamond.
* * * * *
CHAPTER III
IN THE DARK
I put the newspaper cutting on the table, and looked at my listeners. Clara sat with her chin resting on her folded hands, and her elbows on the table, staring straight in front of her. Monk, who had again retired to the darkest corner of the room, now came forward. He was very pale, but his voice was calm as he said:—
"Now I will continue. You must pardon me, if the rest of my story seems dry and businesslike, but it is the only way I can persuade myself to speak of it at all. There is, however, not much more to tell."
"Yes, but tell me, Monk,—was Sigrid—Miss Frick, I should say—"
It was Clara who spoke. She got up eagerly and went across to Monk.
"No, excuse me, Mrs. Viller, allow me to continue—in any case, for a little while. You have promised to hear me, in order, if possible, to advise and help me, so you must bear with my whim and not interrupt me just now. Later, I will answer anything that you want to ask me."
Well, there are several things that happened in court, which the reporter did not mention; though I do not think that his report, together with what I have told you, has left you in the dark with regard to anything that could be of any help in the clearing up of the mystery in which the diamond robbery at old Frick's ended.
There is only one thing which I must mention, since the reporter of theMorning Newsdid not include it. When the judge summed up, he took the opportunity to censure the conduct of the police in the case. He referred, he said, to the detective's conduct with regard to lawyer Jurgens. He was certainly convinced that it had never been his intention to exercise pressure on the old man, but that he had in a passion laid hands on him, a circumstance which, at the turn events had taken in the case, appeared in a very unfavourable light. The detective had also committed another error in not mentioning the incident when he gave evidence in court. The judge felt himself obliged to declare that this conduct might have aided the condemnation of an innocent person.
Any one can understand in what a painful situation I found myself. The worst of it was, that I was obliged to admit that the judge was right,—painfully right. Also, the way in which I had conducted the case had contributed, to a great extent, in throwing a terrible suspicion upon the one who was the dearest to me in the world. So far, I did not as yet foresee the result of the turn which the affair had taken, and which in itself was so surprising, that one hardly had time to reflect before the judgment was given.
I went home immediately, and tried to think over my position; but even then I saw only darkness around me. So I pulled myself together and went to the chief superintendent's office. He still sat there, although it was rather late in the evening. He was very serious.
"I have already been informed of what has taken place in court," he said; "and it pains me greatly to hear what has happened. My purpose in speaking of this, is to spare you giving any account of it. Wait! I have one thing to tell you before you answer—one thing which you ought to know as soon as possible. I have given orders for the arrest of Miss Frick."
I had expected that some such thing must happen, and I succeeded in assuming an indifference which was anything but what I felt.
"I knew this must happen, sir," I answered, "and I have no doubt what I ought to do; I have come to ask you to accept my resignation in the police service. My written application I have not as yet made out, but you shall have it to-morrow. I ask you to consider it as already in your hands."
The superintendent looked at me in a friendly way, pressed my hand, and said:—
"I am sorry, more sorry than you can imagine; but I neither can, nor will, ask you to take back your resignation. What you have now said was just what I was prepared to hear from you."
"Have you heard, sir, everything that took place in the court to-day?"
"Yes, I have obtained a verbatim report from the officer who was present the whole time."
"And what is your opinion?"
"My opinion? I understand you do not refer any longer to yourself; you are thinking of the young girl whom I have been obliged to arrest,—well, what shall I say to you? If I say that no one but Miss Frick could have taken the diamond, then you will be angry with me; and if I say the contrary, you will think I am speaking against my conviction—isn't that so?"
He was right, and I remained silent.
As I moved to go, the superintendent took my hand again.
"You have met with a great misfortune, Monk,—a little carelessness on your part, a bagatelle which, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, would have resulted in nothing, has, by force of circumstances, driven you from a post which you have filled with much energy and ability. And if I am not mistaken, a greater misfortune has befallen, or, in any case is likely to befall, one whom you hold dear. With regard to the first, you are a man of energy, and it is hardly necessary to ask you not to lose courage; you have done nothing wrong, and the world is wide and generally repays one for one's labour. As for the latter, I have also some advice. Wait patiently! I read plainly in your face what you intend doing—you will use all your strength and energy in trying to prove this lady's innocence, against whom everything now seems to tell, and it is far from my intention to dissuade you in this—perhaps you will succeed. This much, experience has taught me,—that nothing is impossible. But should you not succeed—and who can tell? do not make the mistake of ruining your life for the sake of a woman—kinder to yourself and to her to break and have done with, it at once, before it shall be too late. Remember, too, that what is, is inevitable, and that one cannot build a house of bricks which are already crumbled to dust; break with it, the earlier the better—before it is too late—and do not attempt to produce the impossible from a thing which has already proved to be dust. If I can ever help you, now or later, then come to me without hesitancy."
These were my superior's friendly and fatherly words. In the years which have passed by I have only spoken with him once since then upon this matter.