From Whose Bourne

  CHAPTER X.

  It was evident to George Stratton that he would have no time beforethe trial came off in which to prove Stephen Roland the guilty person.Besides this, he was in a strange state of mind which he himself couldnot understand. The moment he sat down to think out a plan by whichhe could run down the man he was confident had committed the crime, astrange wavering of mind came over him. Something seemed to say to himthat he was on the wrong track. This became so persistent that Georgewas bewildered, and seriously questioned his own sanity. Whenever he satalone in his own room, the doubts arose and a feeling that he was on thewrong scent took possession of him. This feeling became so strong attimes that he looked up other clues, and at one time tried to findout the whereabouts of the servant girls who had been employed by theBrentons. Curiously enough, the moment he began this search, his mindseemed to become clearer and easier; and when that happened, the oldbelief in the guilt of Stephen Roland resumed its sway again. But theinstant he tried to follow up what clues he had in that direction, hefound himself baffled and assailed again by doubts, and so every efforthe put forth appeared to be nullified. This state of mind was so unusualwith him that he had serious thoughts of abandoning the whole case andgoing back to Chicago. He said to himself, "I am in love with this womanand I shall go crazy if I stay here any longer." Then he remembered thetrust she appeared to have in his powers of ferreting out the mystery ofthe case, and this in turn encouraged him and urged him on.

  All trace of the girls appeared to be lost. He hesitated to employ aCincinnati detective, fearing that what he discovered would be givenaway to the Cincinnati press. Then he accused himself of disloyalty toMrs. Brenton, in putting his newspaper duty before his duty to her.He was so torn by his conflicting ideas and emotions that at last heresolved to abandon the case altogether and return to Chicago. He packedup his valise and resolved to leave that night for big city, trial or notrial. He had described his symptoms to a prominent physician, and thatphysician told him that the case was driving him mad, and the best thinghe could do was to leave at once for other scenes. He could do no good,and would perhaps end by going insane himself.

  As George Stratton was packing his valise in his room, alone, as hethought, the following conversation was taking place beside him.

  "It is no use," said Speed; "we are merely muddling him, and not doingany good. The only thing is to leave him alone. If he investigates theRoland part of the case he will soon find out for himself that he is onthe wrong track; then he will take the right one."

  "Yes," said Brenton; "but the case comes on in a few days. If anythingis to be done, it must be done now."

  "In that I do not agree with you," said Speed. "Perhaps everything willgo all right at the trial, but even if it does not, there is stilla certain amount of time. You see how we have spoiled things byinterfering. Our first success with him has misled us. We thought wecould do anything; we have really done worse than nothing, because allthis valuable time has been lost. If he had been allowed to proceed inhis own way he would have ferreted out the matter as far as StephenRoland is concerned, and would have found that there was no cause forhis suspicion. As it is he has done nothing. He still believes, if leftalone, that Stephen Roland is the criminal. All our efforts to lead himto the residence of Jane Morton have been unavailing. Now, you see, heis on the eve of going back to Chicago."

  "Well, then, let him go," said Brenton, despondently.

  "With all my heart, say I," answered Speed; "but in any case let usleave him alone."

  Before the train started that night Stratton said to himself that he wasa new man. Richard was himself again. He was thoroughly convinced of theguilt of Stephen Roland, and wondered why he had allowed his mind towander off the topic and waste time with other suspicions, for whichhe now saw there was no real excuse. He had not the time, he felt, toinvestigate the subject personally, but he flattered himself he knewexactly the man to put on Roland's track, and, instead of going himselfto Chicago, he sent off the following despatch:--

  "Meet me to-morrow morning, without fail, at the Gibson House. Answer."

  Before midnight he had his answer, and next morning he met a man in whomhe had the most implicit confidence, and who had, as he said, the rareand valuable gift of keeping his mouth shut.

  "You see this portrait?" Stratton said, handing to the other aphotograph of Stephen Roland. "Now, I do not know how many hundredchemist shops there are in Cincinnati, but I want you to get a list ofthem, and you must not omit the most obscure shop in town. I want you tovisit every drug store there is in the city, show this photograph to theproprietor and the clerks, and find out if that man bought any chemicalsduring the week or two preceding Christmas. Find out what drugs hebought, and where he bought them, then bring the information to me."

  "How much time do you give me on this, Mr. Stratton?" was the question.

  "Whatever time you want. I wish the thing done thoroughly andcompletely, and, as you know, silence is golden in a case like this."

  "How much time do you give me?"]

  "Enough said," replied the other, and, buttoning the photograph in hisinside pocket, he left the room.

  * * * * *

  There is no necessity of giving an elaborate report of the trial. Anyone who has curiosity in the matter can find the full particulars fromthe files of any paper in the country. Mrs. Brenton was very pale as shesat in the prisoner's dock, but George Stratton thought he never saw anyone look so beautiful. It seemed to him that any man in that crowdedcourtroom could tell in a moment that she was not guilty of the crimewith which she was charged, and he looked at the jury of twelvesupposedly good men, and wondered what they thought of it.

  In the prisoner's dock.]

  The defence claimed that it was not their place to show who committedthe murder. That rested with the prosecution. The prosecution, Mr.Benham maintained, had signally failed to do this. However, in order toaid the prosecution, he was quite willing to show how Mr. Brenton cameto his death. Then witnesses were called, who, to the astonishment ofMrs. Brenton, testified that her husband had all along had a tendency toinsanity. It was proved conclusively that some of his ancestors had diedin a lunatic asylum, and one was stated to have committed suicide. Thedefence produced certain books from Mr. Brenton's library, among themForbes Winslow's volume on "The Mind and the Brain," to show thatBrenton had studied the subject of suicide.

  The judge's charge was very colourless. It amounted simply to this:If the jury thought the prosecution had shown Mrs. Brenton to havecommitted the crime, they were to bring in a verdict of guilty, and ifthey thought otherwise they were to acquit her; and so the jury retired.

  As they left the court-room a certain gloom fell upon all those who werefriendly to the fair prisoner.

  Despite the great reputation of Benham and Brown, it was the thoughtof every one present that they had made a very poor defence. Theprosecution, on the other hand, had been most ably conducted. It hadbeen shown that Mrs. Brenton was chiefly to profit by her husband'sdeath. The insurance fund alone would add seventy-five thousand dollarsto the money she would control. A number of little points that Strattonhad given no heed to had been magnified, and appeared then to have agreat bearing on the case. For the first time, Stratton admittedto himself that the prosecution had made out a very strong case ofcircumstantial evidence. The defence, too, had been so deplorably weakthat it added really to the strength of the prosecution. A great speechhad been expected of Benham, but he did not rise to the occasion, and,as one who knew him said, Benham evidently believed his client guilty.

  As the jury retired, every one in the court-room felt that there waslittle hope for the prisoner; and this feeling was intensified when, afew moments after, the announcement was made in court, just as thejudge was preparing to leave the bench, that the jury had agreed on theverdict.

  Stratton, in the stillness of the court-room, heard one lawyer whisperto another, "She's doomed."

  There was intense
silence as the jury slowly filed into their places,and the foreman stood up.

  "Gentlemen of the jury," was the question, "have you agreed upon averdict?"

  "We have," answered the foreman.

  "Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?"

  "Not guilty," was the clear answer.

  At this there was first a moment of silence, and then a ripple ofapplause, promptly checked.

  Mrs. Brenton was free.