CHAPTER XXIII.
IN CLOSER TOILS.
A coroner's inquest was in session at Russell, and in the benightedregions of the Eastern States where the functions of that worthy publicofficer are mainly exercised in connection with the "demnition moist"remains of the "found drowned," or the attenuated skeletons of thestarved, there can be but faint conception of the divinity which dothhedge a coroner in a frontier city where people, as a rule, die withtheir boots on. Perhaps it was a proper consideration of the relativeimportance of the two offices which had induced Mr. Perkins to declinewith thanks the nomination of territorial delegate to Congress, and tointimate through the columns of _The Blizzard_ that he sought no higheroffice at the hands of the people than that in which, to the best of hishumble ability, he had already served two terms. As the emoluments ofthe coronership were dependent entirely upon the number of inquests heldduring the year, the position in an Ohio town of five thousandinhabitants would hardly have taken precedence over a seat in the Houseof Representatives, but a lively frontier city, the supply centre of allthe stock, mining, and trading enterprises to the north of therailway,--a town that had been the division terminus since the road wasbuilt, and was the recognized metropolis of the plains,--well, "that_was_ different, somehow," said Mr. Perkins's friends; and, as hisgleanings had been double those he would have received inCongress,--that is, in the way of salary,--Mr. Perkins had wiselydecided that so long as "business was brisk" he preferred the exaltationof holding the most lucrative position in the gift of hisfellow-citizens. His decision had been a disappointment to otheraspirants, for not only pecuniarily was the office of first importance,but, in the very nature of his functions, the coroner acquired in theeyes of all men a mysterious interest and influence beside which thegovernor of the Territory, the mayor, and even the chief of the firedepartment felt themselves dwarfed into insignificance. For four yearsMr. Perkins had been a busy man. He dispensed far more patronage thanthe delegate to Congress, as he was constantly besieged by a class ofimpecunious patriots to "put 'em on the next one." A stranger arrivingby train and seeing a man shot down in front of some one of thegambling-saloons, would have been perplexed to account for the rush ofthe crowd in one direction, instead of scattering till the shooting wasover and then concentrating to stare at the victim. It was a race forthe coroner, and a place on the jury was the customary reward of thewinner. Too much precipitancy in some such cases, resulting in thediscovery by Mr. Perkins on arriving at the scene that the corpse washumorously waiting for him to "set up the drinks," had resulted in theestablishment by him of a system of fines in the event of similar falsealarms; but, as has been said, the coroner had reigned for several yearsas the wealthiest, the most envied and admired of the public officials.He had invested in mines and real estate, had become a money-lender andcapitalist, and for some time considered himself on the high road tofortune, when the discovery of gold in the Black Hills caused a suddenhegira thither of nine-tenths of the shooting element, and the summer of'76 found Mr. Perkins a changed and embittered man.
"Cheyenne ain't what it used to be," he would regretfully say, as entireweeks would elapse without a fatal termination of a row; "fellers whoused to shoot on sight only sit around and jaw now. It's gettin' slow asany d----d one-horse town east of the Mississippi." And in the generalgloom of the situation Mr. Perkins had more than once regretted that hehad not gone to Congress.
It was with a thrill of renewed hope, therefore, that he heard the loudknocking at his door before dawn, and descending, received withill-concealed gratification the message of the commanding officer atFort Russell that his services were needed there at once. An officer hadbeen shot to death in his bedroom. It was one thing to air hisimportance before an admiring audience of townspeople; but this--thiswas something bordering on bliss. For the time being he could sit injudgment on the words and deeds of those military satraps at the fort.Perkins had bundled a jury of his chums into carriages and started outacross the prairie before the smoke from the morning gun had fairly diedaway. By the time the men had finished breakfast the jury and thereporters were at their work, and an awe-stricken group stood silentlyat the gate of the little brown cottage wherein death had set his sealduring the watches of the night.
It was in the back room of the first floor that the jury had assembled.There on the narrow bed lay the mortal remains of the officer whosedeath-cry had startled the garrison so short a time before. Men andwomen had spoken with bated breath, with dread and horror on theirfaces, with heavy load at heart,--many had not slept at all,--since thenews flew round the garrison at one o'clock. It was shocking to think ofMr. Gleason as murdered, but that he should have been murdered in coldblood, without a word of altercation, and murdered by an officer of hisown regiment,--one so brave, so gifted, so popular as Ray,--was simplyhorrible; and yet--who that heard the evidence being given,--slowly,reluctantly, painfully--before that jury could arrive at any otherconclusion. Even before the jury came sentries with fixed bayonet werestationed at Ray's bedroom door, and no one was allowed to go in or outexcept by order of the commanding officer.
The colonel had not gone to bed since being aroused. The moment the postsurgeon had announced that Gleason was stone dead the body was lifted tothe bed; Lieutenant Warner was placed in charge of the room, with ordersto see that nothing was touched or removed, and the colonel began animmediate investigation. The sergeant of the guard, who, with one or twomen, had been out searching the rear yards, had handed the colonel onhis arrival a silver-mounted pistol,--Smith & Wesson's, of handsome makeand finish, with every chamber loaded but one. He had picked it up justby the back gate. On the guard were engraved in monogram the letters W.P. R., and as the colonel held it up, Private Hogan, who had beenassisting in raising the body to the bed, gave one quick look at it,exclaimed, "Oh, Holy Mother!" and hurried from the room. He was sternlycalled back, and came, white and trembling.
"Do you know that pistol, sir? Whose is it?"
Hogan wrung his hands and looked miserably around.
"Answer at once!"
"It's--it's the lootenant's, sir!"
"What lieutenant?"
"Misther Ray, sir. Oh, God forgive me!" sobbed poor Hogan, and, coveringhis face with his hands, he burst into tears.
"Where is Mr. Ray?" demanded the colonel, in a voice that trembleddespite his strong effort at self-control.
"He was here, sir, when I came," said the sergeant of the guard. "He waskneeling over the body, and told me to hurry out on the prairie,--themurderer had run that way."
"Mr. Ray is in his quarters, colonel. I took him there just before youcame," said Blake, entering at the moment, and Blake's face was white asdeath.
"Who was here besides Mr. Ray?" asked the colonel of the sergeant.
"Not a soul, sir. The body lay there on its face where the blood is onthe floor, and Mr. Ray was kneeling beside it trying to turn it over, Ithought. I was standing in front of the company quarters just over here,sir, when the shot was fired, and I heard the yell. I ran hard as Icould straight here, and it wasn't half a minute."
"And you saw no one else at all?"
"No one, sir. The lieutenant said the man as did it rushed out on theprairie between the hospital and the surgeon's, and it was dark, sir,and no use looking. Coming back, I picked up the pistol right by thegate."
"Stay here all of you," said the colonel. "Mr. Blake, I want _you_."
And in another moment Blake went silently up the row. The colonel'sorders were that he should guard his comrade until relieved by theofficer of the day with his sentries.
But the coroner's jury had investigated still further. The web ofcircumstantial evidence that had enveloped Ray by eight o'clock thatAugust morning was simply appalling. It summed up about as follows. Thesergeant of the guard had been making the rounds of the ordnance andcommissary storehouses, and heard voices out on the prairie as of mencoming from town; listening, he recognized those of Hogan and Shea, thelatter being Lieutenant Gleason's orderly. They we
re apparently comingfrom the direction of the "house on the hill," as the resort out by thelittle prairie lake, previously described, was termed, and as they werenot boisterous at all, though evidently "merry," he had not gone towardsthem, but, entering the main gate, he turned to the left to go to theguard-house, and was opposite the second set of company quarters when heheard voices at Lieutenant Gleason's, excited but unintelligible, thenthe shot, a scream, and he ran full tilt, not more than two hundredyards, into the house and through the little hall to the back room,where a light was burning. There lay Lieutenant Gleason on his face withhis head to the back door, which was open, while Lieutenant Ray waskneeling between the body and the back door. All he said was, "Quick!the man who did it ran out on the prairie past the doctor's," and thesergeant had pursued, but returned in a moment or two, having seennobody but Hogan and Shea, who came running back with him. Shea went forthe doctor and Hogan to call Lieutenant Blake. The corporal of the guardthen arrived with two men. They sent one for the colonel. Lieutenant Rayagain told them to hunt the murderer, but they found nothing but thepistol. When they returned the second time the colonel and surgeon werethere, but Mr. Ray was gone.
Shea's testimony was sensational: Hogan had come to him about tattoo,and proposed that they should go out and have a quiet time at the houseon the hill; he had plenty of money and had already been drinking alittle. Shea went, but fearing Hogan would take too much and get intomore trouble, had persuaded him to start for home about 11.30. They cameacross the prairie and were talking pretty loud, heard no pistol-shot,or cry, saw or heard no one except the sergeant, though they had comethrough the gap between the hospital and surgeon's quarters. Shea saidthat he had been Mr. Gleason's "striker" (soldier-servant) for twoyears; knew his character and habits well, and knew there was troublebetween him and Mr. Ray. Questioned as to particulars, Shea went on tosay that there had been a "terrible row" between them the day Mr.Gleason started for Fetterman; he didn't know what it was about, but hadoverheard some of the language from the back kitchen, and the last thingLieutenant Ray had said was, "'If ever you breathe a word of this to asoul,' or something like that, 'I'll shoot you like a dog.'" He was sureof the last words, and he thought then he wouldn't like to be in Mr.Gleason's place. Shea's words produced a marked effect; but no more sothan did Hogan's, whom grief and liquor had made somewhat maudlin. Likeevery Irishman in the regiment he thought the world of Ray, and it cuthim to the heart to have to testify against him; but he recognized thepistol at once as the lieutenant's, and the fact was dragged out of himthat before tattoo the previous evening he had gone to get it and cleanit, and found it was not in the holster. He asked the lieutenant for itand was refused. "I want it" was what the lieutenant had said.
Mr. Blake, very calm and very white, was brought in next, and faced theimpressive coroner and his jury. He corroborated Hogan's statement as toRay's language about the pistol; said that he had gone to bed up-stairsat eleven o'clock, leaving Ray reading in the room below, and knewnothing more of the affair until called by Hogan, when he had run to Mr.Gleason's quarters, and after a moment had taken Ray home and insistedon his going to bed. The lieutenant was just recovering from a severeillness, was weak and unstrung, and the affair threatened to bring on arelapse. There had been an open breach between the two officers for overtwo years, and of late, he knew not how, it had widened. The deceasedfrequently maligned Lieutenant Ray, and the latter never spoke of himwithout aversion. Questioned as to his knowledge of anything thatoccurred between them on the day of Gleason's departure, he said he knewnothing. Ray had refused to talk on the subject. The surgeon had giventhe necessary medical testimony as to cause,--a gunshot woundpenetrating the heart and causing almost instant death. The postcommander told of the charges against Lieutenant Ray, and of the factthat the deceased was a principal witness--indeed, an accuser, and thatseemed all that was necessary. The jury desired to hear what Mr. Ray hadto say, and they questioned the doctor as to his ability to see them.The surgeon had replied with professional gravity that so far as he wasconcerned he thought his patient should not be disturbed, but that thegentleman himself had insisted that no obstacle should be thrown intheir way if they felt disposed to examine him. Mr. Ray was cool as acucumber, though fully aware by this time of the fearful array ofevidence against him. Blake flew back to his bedside as soon as he heardthat the coroner had decided to question him, and with tears in his eyesimplored him to say nothing; but Ray had smiled faintly, and held out awarning hand,--
"I've never hidden a word or deed of my life, Blake, and what has to behidden now is for another's sake--not mine. Time enough for lawyers whenthe case comes to trial. A coroner's jury can only express an opinion. Icould not rest easy now without the vindication of a full trial."
And so the coroner and his jury filed solemnly in. Ray's voice wasplacid and his eyes steadfast and true. He was courtesy itself to themembers of the jury, and all patience even under the insinuations of thecoroner that made Blake furious. His story was briefly that he hadstrolled out to his rear gate to walk up and down in the yard a fewminutes before retiring. (He did not say "To gaze at a certain window upthe row.") Being in arrest he was permitted to go no farther, and justafter the sentry's call of half-past twelve he was startled by hearingexcited voices apparently in the rear room of the quarters two doorsaway, then a shot and a scream; he had hurried thither, and at the backgate of Gleason's quarters a man rushed past him on tiptoe and at fullspeed. Ray had caught his arm an instant but was thrown roughly aside,and the fugitive had fled like a deer through the open space between thehospital and surgeon's quarters. He himself was weak from recent illnessand unable to pursue, but hurried into the back door of Gleason'squarters, which was open, through the kitchen, and there, lying on hisface in the back room, was the deceased, dressed in shirt and trousers,apparently even then dead. The sergeant came almost immediately, andsoon Mr. Blake, who presently reminded him that he was in arrest and hadno right to be in any quarters but his own, and took him home.
Questioned as to enmity with the deceased, he said he had long dislikedhim, and that of late the feeling had become intensified. Questioned asto the affair of the day on which the deceased had left the post, headmitted there had been a violent scene, and that he had threatened him.He also admitted that the pistol was his, but that it had _not been inhis possession since the day the deceased left the post_. Questioned asto the cause of his quarrel and some further matters, he spoke veryquietly, as follows:
"These are matters, gentlemen, that cannot influence your decision. Nostatement of mine can well counteract the chain of circumstances in thiscase. I cannot tell you where my pistol was, and I must decline to sayone word at present of the cause of my late quarrel with the deceased."In this he was firm, and what other verdict could they arrive at? Thedeceased came to his death by a gunshot wound inflicted with murderousintent, and, to the best of their belief, by the hand of William P. Ray,a lieutenant in the --th Regiment of Cavalry, U. S. Army.
When they were gone to their deliberation and Ray was alone with hisfriend, he called for a scrap of note-paper, thought earnestly a fewmoments, and then rapidly wrote in pencil a few lines.
"Blake," he said, "take this to Mrs. Truscott and give it to herpersonally. There will probably be no answer. If you cannot see her, askfor Miss Sanford."
They were all in the parlor, Mrs. Stannard, Mrs. Truscott, and MissSanford, when he reached the house. Three sadder faces he had neverseen. The first question was as to the verdict of the coroner's jury.Blake shook his head. "It can only be one thing." Indeed, was not thatwhat Mrs. Whaling had been there to tell them already, with a simplymaddening array of embellishments?
Mrs. Stannard's blue eyes were red with weeping, and Mrs. Truscottlooked as though she had wept for hours. Indeed, she had been, longbefore the shot was fired. Marion Sanford alone was quiet and composed;her eyes were clear as ever, though deep dark rings had formed beneaththem, and her soft lips were set in constant effort to repress emotion.Blake briefly
told them how calm and brave Ray was, how he had refusedto explain about the pistol, or to give any particulars of his quarrelwith Gleason, merely saying it had been of long standing. There weremany things that he, Blake, must attend to at once, and so, if theywould excuse him, he wished to see Mrs. Truscott a moment, and shefollowed him to the piazza falteringly.
"Ray told me to give this note to no one but you, Mrs. Truscott, and Iinferred that he wished you only to see it," said he.
To his surprise, she drew back her hand. Her lips began to quiver, hereyes to refill. She made no effort to take it. He looked at herwonderingly.
"Mr. Blake--I--I cannot take it. I cannot explain!" And then, abruptlyturning, she rushed into the house and up the stairs.
Poor Blake stood one moment in dire perplexity and then went back.
"She wouldn't take it, Billy. She said she couldn't; but d--n me if Ican fathom it."
Ray's eyes grew stony. Every vestige of color left his face. He coveredit with his thin white hands, and the man who had braved death andtorture to save his comrades, who had borne uncomplainingly, resolutely,patiently, the trying ordeal of his examination by a gang of suspiciousmen, who had suffered in silence the ignominy of a criminal chargerather than drag to light a defence that might involve a woman's name,now quivered and shuddered and turned to the wall with one low moan ofagony, cut to the heart by the fragile hand he would have died toshield.