The Darrow Enigma by Melvin L. Severy (brene brown rising strong txt) 📕

Belief, though it be as ample as the ocean, does not always

similarly swell in crystallising. It has, however, its point of

maximum density, but this, not infrequently, is also ifs point

of minimum knowledge.

During all these days Gwen was gaining rapidly. Maitland came to

visit us almost every night, and he told Gwen that he did not feel

altogether certain that, in arresting M. Latour, the law had secured

her father’s real assassin. It would be necessary to account for,

he told her, some very singular errors in his early calculations if

M. Latour was the man.

“When first I took up my abode under the same roof with him,” he

said, “I had no doubt that we had at last run down our man. Now,

although another detective has come to the same conclusion, I myself

have many misgivings, and you may be assured, Miss Darrow, that I

shall lose no time in getting these doubts answered one way or the

other. At present you may say to your friend Jeannette that I am

straining every nerve in her father’s behalf.”

Why all this should so please Gwen I was at a loss to comprehend,

but I could not fail to see that it did please her greatly. She

had been the most anxious of us all to see her father’s murderer

brought to justice, and now, when through the efforts of M. Godin,

a man stood all but convicted of the crime, she was pleased to hear

Maitland, whose efforts to track Latour she had applauded in no

equivocal way, say that he should spare no pains to give the suspect

every possible chance to prove his innocence. There was certainly

a reason, whatever it might have been, for Gwen’s attitude in this

matter, for that young woman was exceptionally rational in all

things. Nothing of especial moment occurred between this time and

the beginning of the trial. Maitland, for the most part, kept his

own counsel and gave us little information other than a hint that

he still thought there was a chance of clearing M. Latour.

With this end in view he had become an associate attorney with

Jenkins in order the better to conduct M. Latour’s case along the

lines which seemed to him the most promising. I asked him on one

occasion what led him to entertain a hope that Latour could be

cleared and he replied: “A good many things.” “Well, then,” I

rejoined, “what are some of them?” He hesitated a moment and then

replied laughingly: “You see I hate to acknowledge the falsity of

my theories. I said shortly after the murder was committed that I

thought the assassin was short and probably did not weigh over one

hundred and thirty-five pounds; that he most likely had some especial

reason for concealing his footprints, and that he had a peculiarity

in his gait. I felt tolerably sure then of all this, but now it

turns out that M. Latour is six feet tall in his stockings, and thin;

and that, emaciated as he is, he tips the scales at one hundred and

fifty pounds by reason of his large frame. His feet are as

commonplace as - as yours, Doc, and his gait as regular as - mine.

Is it to be expected that I am going to give up all my pet illusions

without a struggle?”

When the hour for the trial arrived Gwen insisted on accompanying us

to the courtroom. She had a great deal of confidence in George and

felt sure that, as he expressed a strong doubt of the prisoner’s

guilt, he would triumph in proving him innocent. She determined,

therefore, to be present at the trial, even before her attendance

should be required as a witness.

M. Latour, when he was led into the prisoner’s box, seemed to have

aged greatly during his incarceration. It was with a marked effort

that he arose and straightened himself up as the indictment was read

to him. When the words: “Are you guilty or not guilty?” were

addressed to him every eye was turned upon him and every ear listened

to catch the first sound of his voice, but no sound came. The

question was repeated more loudly, “Are you guilty or not guilty?”

Like one suddenly awakened from a reverie M. Latour started, turned

toward his questioner, and in a full, firm voice replied:” Guilty,!”

I was so dumfounded that I could offer Gwen no word of comfort to

alleviate this sudden shock. Maitland and Godin seemed about the

only ones in the courtroom who were not taken off their feet, so to

speak, by this unexpected plea, and George was at Gwen’s side in a

moment and whispered something to her which I could not hear, but

which I could see had a very beneficial effect upon her. We had all

expected a long, complicated trial, and here the whole matter was

reduced to a mere formality by M. Latour’s simple confession,

“Guilty!” Is it any wonder, therefore, that we were taken aback?

While we were recovering from our surprise at this sudden turn of

affairs, Maitland was engaged in private conversation with the Judge,

with whom, he afterward told me, he had become well acquainted both

in his own cases and in those of other lawyers requiring his services

as an=20expert chemist. He never told me what passed between them, nor

the substance of any of the brief interviews which followed with the

prosecuting attorney, his associate counsel, and other legal

functionaries. All I know is that when the case was resumed M.

Latour’s senior counsel, Jenkins, kept carefully in the background,

leaving the practical conduct of the case in Maitland’s hands.

If a hazelnut had the shell of a cocoanut, its meat would, in my

opinion, sustain about the same relation to its bulk as the gist of

the usual legal proceeding sustains to the mass of verbiage in which

it is enshrouded. For this reason you will not expect me to give a

detailed account of this trial. I couldn’t if I would, and I wouldn’t

if I could. My knowledge of legal procedure is far from profound,

albeit I once began the study of law. My memories of Blackstone

are such as need prejudice no ambitious aspirant for legal honours.

I have a recollection that somewhere Blackstone says something

about eavesdropping, - I mean in its literal sense - something

about the drippings from A’s roof falling on B’s estate; but for

the life of me I couldn’t tell what he says. More distinctly do

I remember this learned lawgiver stated that there could be no

doubt of the evidence of witchcraft, because the Bible was full

of it, and that witches should be punished with death. This made

an impression upon me, because it was an instance, rare to me then,

but common enough now, of how minds, otherwise exceptionally able,

may have a spot so encankered with creed, bigotry, and superstition

as to render their judgments respecting certain classes of phenomena

erroneous and illogical, puerile and ridiculous.

But to return to those points of the trial which I can remember,

and which I think of sufficient interest to put before you. These

refer chiefly to Maitland’s examination of M. Latour, and of the

government’s chief witness, M. Godin. Such portions of their

testimony as I shall put before you I shall quote exactly as it

was given and reported by Maitland’s friend, Simonds.

When Maitland began for the defence he said:

“At about half-past seven on the night of the 22d of April, John

Darrow met his death at his home in Dorchester. He died in the

presence of his daughter, Messrs. Willard, Browne, Herne, and

myself. His death was caused by injecting a virulent poison into

his system through a slight incision in his neck. That wound the

prisoner before you confesses he himself inflicted. I would like

to know a little more definitely how he succeeded in doing it

without detection, in the presence, not only of his victim, but

of five other persons sitting close about him. M. Latour will

please take the stand.”

As M. Latour stepped into the witness-box, a wave of suppressed

excitement ran all over the courtroom. Every nerve was strained

to its tensest pitch, every ear eager for the slightest syllable

he might utter. What could be done for a man who had confessed,

and what would be the solution of the crime which had so long

defied the authorities? The