That Mainwaring Affair by A. Maynard Barbour (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📕

produced and read in court. Both wills were photographed, and numerous copies, minute in every detail, made, in order to show by comparison the differences in their respective signatures. Under powerful microscopes it was discovered that several pauses had been made in the signature of the later will. Electric batteries were introduced to show that the document had been steeped in coffee and tobacco juice to give it the appearance of great age. Interesting chemical experiments were performed, by which a piece of new paper was made to look stained and spotted as if mildewed and musty, while by the use of tiny files and needles, the edges, having first been slightly scalloped, were grated and the paper punctured, till it presented a very similar aspect to the will itself as though worn through at the creases and frayed and tattered with age.

But the accumulation of this overwhelming mass of expert testimony failed to make the impression upon counsel for proponent which had been anticipated by the other side. Mr. Sutherland varied the monotony of the direct examinations by frequent and pertinent objections, while Barton & Barton took occasional notes, which were afterwards passed to Sutherland and Montague, and by them used with telling effect in the cross-examinations, but the faces of one and all wore an expression inscrutable as that of the sphinx.

Only once was their equanimity disturbed by any ripple of agitation, and then the incident was so little understood as to be soon forgotten. As the third day of the trial was drawing to a close, a despatch in cipher was handed Mr. Sutherland, which when translated seemed to produce a startling effect upon its readers. Barton & Barton exchanged glances and frowned heavily; Mr. Sutherland's face for one brief moment showed genuine alarm, and Harold Mainwaring, upon reading the slip of paper passed to him, grew pale. A hurried consultation followed and Mr. Montague left the court-room.

On the following morning the papers announced that at 11 P.M. the preceding night, the Victoria, the private car of the president of one of the principal railway lines, with special engine attached, had left for the West, evidently on business of great importance, as everything on the road had been ordered side-tracked. It was stated that no particulars could be ascertained, however, regarding either her passengers or her destination, the utmost secrecy being maintained by those on board, including even the trainmen. This item, though attracting some attention, caused less comment than did the fact that for the three days next ensuing, neither the senior Mr. Barton nor Mr. Montague was present in court; but no one suspected any connection between the two events, or dreamed that the above gentlemen, with two of New York's most skilled surgeons, were the occupants of the president's private car, then hastening westward at almost lightning speed.

On the afternoon of the sixth day of the trial, as it became apparent that the seemingly interminable evidence submitted by contestant was nearly at an end, the eager impatience of the waiting crowd could scarcely be restrained within the limits of order. A change was noticeable also in the demeanor of proponent and his counsel. For the two days preceding they had appeared as though under some tension or suspense; now they seemed to exhibit almost an indifference to the proceedings, as though the outcome of the contest were already a settled fact, while a marked gravity accompanied each word and gesture.

At last the contestant rested, and all eyes were fixed upon Mr. Sutherland, as, after a brief pause, he rose to make, as was supposed, his opening statement. Instead of addressing the jury, however, he turned towards Judge Bingham.

"Your honor," he began, in slow, measured tones, "it now lacks but little more than an hour of the usual time for adjournment, and after the constant strain which has been put upon our nerves for the past six days, I feel that none of us, including yourself, your honor, are in a sufficiently receptive mood to listen to the testimony which the proponent has to offer. In addition to this is the fact that our most important witness is not present this afternoon. I would therefore ask for an adjournment to be taken until ten o'clock next Monday morning, at which time I will guarantee your honor and the gentlemen of the jury that the intricate and elaborate web of fine-spun theories which has been presented will be swept away in fewer hours than the days which have been required for its construction."

There was an attempt at applause, which was speedily checked, and without further delay the court adjourned.

As judge, jury, and counsel took their respective places on the following Monday at the hour appointed, the scene presented by the old court-room was one never before witnessed in its history. Every available inch of standing room, both on the main floor and in the galleries, was taken; throngs were congregated about the doorways, those in the rear standing on chairs and benches that they might obtain a view over the heads of their more fortunate neighbors, while even the recesses formed by the enormous windows were packed with humanity, two rows deep, the outer row embracing the inner one in its desperate efforts to maintain its equilibrium.

The opposing sides presented a marked contrast in their appearance that morning. Ralph Mainwaring betrayed a nervous excitement very unusual in one of his phlegmatic temperament; his face alternately flushed and paled, and though much of the old defiant bravado remained, yet he awaited the opening of proceedings with visible impatience. Nor was Mr. Whitney less excited, his manner revealing both agitation and anxiety. On the part of Harold Mainwaring and his counsel, however, there was no agitation, no haste; every movement was characterized by composure and deliberation, yet something in their bearing—something subtle and indefinable but nevertheless irresistible—impressed the sensibilities of the vast audience much as the oppressive calm which precedes an electric storm. All felt that some great crisis was at hand, and it was amid almost breathless silence that Mr. Sutherland arose to make his opening statement.

"Gentlemen of the jury," he began, and the slow, resonant tones penetrated to the farthest corner and out into the corridors where hundreds were eagerly listening, "as a defence to the charges sought to be established in your hearing, we propose to show, not by fine-spun theories based upon electrical and chemical experiments, nor brilliant sophistries deduced from microscopic observations, but by the citation of stubborn and incontrovertible facts, that this document (holding up the will), copies of which you now have in your possession, is the last will and testament of Ralph Maxwell Mainwaring, executed by him on the night preceding his death, and as such entitled to stand; that this will, from the date of its execution to the day of its discovery on the seventh of July last, was wilfully and fraudulently withheld from publication, and its existence kept secret by the deceased Hugh Mainwaring. That the proponent, Harold Scott Mainwaring, is the lawful and only son of the beneficiary named therein, and as such the sole rightful and lawful heir to and owner of the Mainwaring estate. More than this, we propose at the same time and by the same evidence to forever disprove, confute, and silence any and every aspersion and insinuation which has been brought against the character of the proponent, Harold Scott Mainwaring; and in doing this, we shall at last lift the veil which, for the past five months, has hung over the Fair Oaks tragedy."

Mr. Sutherland paused to allow the tremendous excitement produced by his words to subside; then turning, he addressed himself to the judge.

"Your honor, I have to request permission of the court to depart in a slight degree from the usual custom. The witness for the defence is in an adjoining room, ready to give testimony when summoned to do so, but in this instance I have to ask that the name be withheld, and that the witness himself be identified by the contestant and his counsel."

The judge bowed in assent, and amid a silence so rigid and intense as to be almost painful, at a signal from Mr. Sutherland, the doors of an anteroom were swung noiselessly open and approaching footsteps were heard.

CHAPTER XXVII THE SILENT WITNESS

Approaching footsteps were heard, but they were the steps of men moving slowly and unsteadily, as though carrying some heavy burden. An instant later, six men, bearing a casket beneath whose weight they staggered, entered the court-room and, making their way through the spell-bound crowd, deposited their burden near the witness stand. Immediately following were two men, one of whom was instantly recognized as Merrick, the detective; the other as the man who, a few months before, had been known as the English barrister's clerk, now wearing the full uniform of a Scotland Yard official. Bringing up the rear was an undertaker, who, amid the breathless silence which ensued, proceeded to open the casket. This done, Mr. Sutherland rose and addressed the judge, his low tones for the first time vibrating with suppressed feeling.

"Your honor, I request that William H. Whitney be first called upon to identify the witness."

Controlling his agitation by a visible effort, Mr. Whitney approached the casket, but his eyes no sooner rested on the form and features within than his forced composure gave way. With a groan he exclaimed,

"My God, it is Hugh Mainwaring!" and bending over the casket, he covered his face with his hands while he strove in vain to conceal his emotion.

His words, ringing through the hushed court-room, seemed to break the spell, and the over-wrought nerves of the people began to yield under the tremendous pressure. Mr. Sutherland raised a warning hand to check the tide of nervous excitement which threatened to sweep over the entire crowd, but it was of little avail. Piercing screams followed; women fainted and were borne from the room, and the faces of strong men blanched to a deathly pallor as they gazed at one another in mute consternation and bewilderment. For a few moments the greatest confusion reigned, but when at last order was restored and Mr. Whitney had regained his composure, Mr. Sutherland inquired,—

"Mr. Whitney, do you identify the dead man as Hugh Mainwaring?"

"I do."

"But did you not identify as Hugh Mainwaring the man who, at Fair Oaks, on or about the eighth of July last, came to his death from the effect of a gunshot wound?"

"I supposed then, and up until the present time, that it was he; there certainly was a most wonderful resemblance which I am unable to explain or account for, but this, beyond all question, is Hugh Mainwaring."

"Will you state what proof of identification you can give in this instance that was not present in the other?"

"Hugh Mainwaring had over the right temple a slight birthmark, a red line extending upward into the hair, not always equally distinct, but always visible to one who had once observed it, and in this instance quite noticeable. I saw no trace of this mark on the face of the murdered man; but as the face was somewhat blackened by powder about the right temple, I attributed its absence to that fact, and in the excitement which followed I thought little of it. On the day of the funeral I also noted certain lines in the face which seemed unfamiliar, but realizing that death often makes the features of those whom we know best to seem strange to us, I thought no further of the matter. Now, however, looking upon this face, I am able to recall several differences, unnoticed then, but all of which go to prove that this is Hugh Mainwaring."

Ralph Mainwaring was the next one summoned for identification. During Mr. Whitney's examination his manner had betrayed intense agitation, and he now came forward with an expression of mingled incredulity and dread, but upon reaching the casket, he stood like