CHAPTER XVI.
A solemn assemblage was that at the Ermita quarters of the provost-guardthe following day. Officers of rank and soldiers from the ranks, inrusty blue, in gleaming white, in dingy Khaki rubbed shoulders andelbows in the crowded courtyard.
In the presence of death the American remembers that men are born equal,and forgets the ceremonious observance of military courtesies. Allvoices were lowered, all discussion hushed. There was a spontaneousmovement when the division commander entered, and all made way for himwithout a word, but sturdily stood the rank and file and held theirground against all others, for the preliminary examination, as it mightbe called, was to take place at ten o'clock.
The dead man was of their own grade, and an ugly story had gone likewildfire through the barracks and quarters that his slayer was acommissioned officer, an aide-de-camp of the general himself, a scion ofa distinguished and wealthy family of the greatest city of America, andall official influence, presumably, would be enlisted in his behalf.Therefore, silent, yet determined, were they present in strong force,not in disrespect, not in defiance, but with that calm yet indomitableresolution to see for themselves that justice was done, that soldiers ofno other than the Anglo-Saxon race could ever imitate, or that officers,not American, could ever understand, appreciate, and even tacitlyapprove.
The dead man had died instantly, not in the flush and glory of battle,but in the lonely, yet most honorable, discharge of the sacred duty ofthe sentinel. Murder most foul was his, and had he been well-nigh apariah among them,--a man set apart from his kind,--the impulse of hisfellow-soldiers would have been to see to it that his death at such atime and on such a duty went not unavenged. As it was, the man who laythere, already stiff and cold, was known among them as one of thebravest, brightest spirits of their whole array, a lad of birth probablymore gentle than that of many an officer, of gifts of mind and charactersuperior to those of not a few superiors, a fellow who had won theirfellowship as easily as he had learned the duties of the soldier.
A whole battalion in the regulars and dozens of gallant boys in theIdahos and North Dakotas knew Billy Benton and had been full of sympathywhen he was picked up one night some three weeks previous, his head laidopen by a powerful blow from some blunt instrument, bleeding andsenseless. Even when released from hospital a fortnight later he wasdazed and queer, was twice reported out of quarters over night andabsent from roll-call, but was forgiven because of "previous character,"and the belief that he was really not responsible for these soldiersolecisms.
One thing seemed to worry him, and that was, as he admitted, that he hadbeen robbed of some papers that he valued. But he soon seemed "all rightagain," said his fellows, at least to the extent of resuming duty, andwhen, clean-shaved and in his best attire, he marched on guard that gladOctober morning, they were betting on him for the first chevrons andspeedy commission.
All that his few intimates, the one or two who claimed to know him,could be induced to admit was that his real name was not Benton, andthat he had enlisted utterly against the wishes of his kindred. And so,regulars and volunteers alike, they thronged the open _patio_ and allapproaches thereto, and no officer would now suggest that that courtbe cleared. It was best that "Thinking Bayonets" should be there to hearand see for himself.
"No, indeed, don't do anything of the kind," said the general promptlywhen asked half-hesitatingly by the captain of the guard whether hepreferred to exclude the men. And in this unusual presence the brief,straightforward examination went on.
First to tell his tale was the corporal of the second relief. He hadposted his men between 8.30 and 8.45, Private Benton on Number 6 at thecorner of the Calle Real and Padre Faura. That post had been chosen forhim as being not very far away from that of the guard, as the young"feller" had not entirely recovered his strength, and the officer of theday had expressed some regret at his having so soon attempted to resumeduty, but Benton had laughingly said that he was "all right" and hedidn't mean to have other men doing sentry go for him.
"Soon after nine," said the corporal, "I went round warning all thesentries to look out for the tall Filipino and short, squat American, asdirected by the officer of the guard. The officer of the guard himselfwent round about that time personally cautioning the sentries. There wasa good deal of fun and excitement just then down the street. Number 9 inthe Calle Nueve had shot twice at some fleeing natives who nearly upsethim as they dashed round the corner from the Bagumbayan, and he hadlater mistaken Colonel Brent in his white suit for a Filipino andnervously fired. Numbers 7 and 8 in the side streets mistook theshooting for fire alarm, and Private Benton repeated, in accordance withhis orders, but when I (the corporal) saw him he was laughing to killhimself over the Manila fire department."
Benton didn't seem much impressed at first about the thief and thedeserter, but towards 9.45, when the corporal again visited his post andthe streets were getting quiet, Benton said there were some natives inthe second house across the way whose movements puzzled him. They keptcoming to the front door and windows and peeping out at him. A patrolcame along just then, searching alleyways and yards, and they lookedabout the premises, while he, Corporal Scott, started west on the Faurato warn Number 4, who was over towards the beach, and while there MajorMacNeil, the field officer of the day, came along, and after makinginquiries as to what Number 4 had seen and heard and asking him hisorders, he turned back to the Faura, Corporal Scott following.
One block west of the Calle Real the major stopped as though to listento some sound he seemed to have heard in the dark street runningparallel with the Real, and then stepped into it as though to examine,so Scott followed, and almost instantly they heard a muffled report"like a pistol inside a blanket," and hastening round into the Faurathey found Benton lying on his face in the middle of the street, just atthe corner of the Calle Real, stone dead. His rifle they found in thegutter not twenty feet from him.
Scott ran at once to the guard-house three blocks away and gave thealarm. Then the patrol said that a tall officer, running full speed, hadpassed them, and here the provost-marshal interposed with--
"Never mind what the patrol said. Just tell what you--the witness--didnext."
Scott continued that he and others with the lieutenant, officer of theguard, ran back to Number 6's post, and there stood the major with thepistol.
"When we asked should we search the yards and alleys the major nodded,but the moment he heard the men telling about the running officer hegave the lieutenant orders----"
And again the provost-marshal said "Never mind," the major woulddescribe all that.
And the major did. He corroborated what Corporal Scott had said, andthen went on with what happened after Scott was sent to alarm the guard.Barring some opening of shutters and peering out on the part of nativesanxious to know the cause of the trouble, there was no furtherdemonstration until Scott and others came running back. But meanwhilesomething gleaming in the roadway--the Calle Real--about fifteen pacesfrom the corner and up the street--to the north towards theBagumbayan--and close to the sidewalk attracted his attention.
He stepped thither and picked up--this revolver. By the electric lightat the corner he saw that one chamber was empty. When the guard came onthe run and he heard of the tall officer fleeing up towards theBagumbayan, the direction in which the pistol lay, he sent Mr.Wharton--Lieutenant Wharton--with a patrol in pursuit.
The inscription on the pistol revealed its ownership and cast certainsuspicions that warranted his action, he believed, in ordering theinstant arrest of the officer if found.
Major MacNeil went on to say he "had not yet made the acquaintance ofLieutenant Stuyvesant, and did not actually know when he gave the orderthat it _was_ Lieutenant Stuyvesant who ran up the street"--and here themajor was evidently in a painful position, but faced his duty like a manand told his story without passion or prejudice, despite the fact thathe declared the murdered man to be one of the very best young fellows inhis battalion, and that he was naturally shocked and ange
red at hisdeath.
Then the name of Private Reilly was called, and a keen-featured littleIrishman stepped forward. It was one of the patrol. Corporal Stamford,first relief, was in charge of it. They had been hunting as far over asthe "Knows-a-lady," and on coming back Number 6 told them of somenatives at the second house. Corporal Stamford posted him, Reilly, inthe first yard near the street to head off any that tried to run outthat way, in case they stirred up a mare's nest, and took the other"fellers" and went round by the front. Nothing came of it, but whilethey were beating up the yards and enclosures Reilly heard Bentonchallenge, and saw a tall officer come up to be recognized. They hadsome words,--the officer and the sentry,--he couldn't tell what, but theofficer spoke excited like, and all of a sudden jumped away and startedas though to run, and Number 6 "hollered" after him, though Reillydidn't clearly understand what was said. "At all events he made him comeback, and it----" Here Reilly seemed greatly embarrassed and glancedabout the room from face to face in search of help or sympathy. "Itseemed to kind of rile the officer. He acted like he wasn't going tocome back first off, and then the corporal came along with the patroland the officer had to wait while Stamford was recognized, and the boyswas sayin' Billy had a right to stand the corporal off until thelieutenant said advance him. And we was laughin' about it and sayin'Billy wasn't the boy to make any mistake about his orders, when we heardthe lieutenant come a-runnin' swift down t'other side the street andthen saw him scootin' it for the open p'rade."
Did the witness recognize the officer?--did he see him plainly?
"Yes, the electric light was burnin' at the corner, and he'd seen himseveral times driving by the 'barks.'"
Was the officer present?--now?
"Yes," and Reilly's face reddened to meet the hue of his hair.
Reluctantly, awkwardly, pathetically almost, for in no wise dididentification, as it happened, depend on his evidence, the little Irishlad turned till his eyes met those of Stuyvesant, sitting pale, calm,and collected by his general's side, and while the eyes of all menfollowed those of Reilly they saw that, so far from showing resentmentor dismay, the young gentleman bowed gravely, reassuringly, as though hewould have the witness know his testimony was exactly what it should beand that no blame or reproach attached to him for the telling of what hehad seen.
Then Dr. Frank was called, and he gave his brief testimony calmly andclearly. It was mainly about the pistol. He recognized it as one he hadseen and examined the previous afternoon at Colonel Brent's quarters onthe San Luis. It was lying on a little table in the front veranda. Hehad closely examined it--could not be mistaken about it, and when heleft it was still lying on that table. Who were present when he left?"Other than the immediate family, only Lieutenant Stuyvesant." Had heagain visited the colonel's that evening? He had. He returned an hour orso later to dine. The ladies had then left their seats in the veranda,and he noticed that the pistol was no longer on the table; presumed MissRay had taken it with her to her room and thought no more about it. Asindicated by the inscription, the pistol was her property.
Then Lieutenant Ray was called, but there was no response. In low tonethe assistant provost-marshal explained that the orderly sent to Pacowith message for Lieutenant Ray returned with the reply that Mr. Ray hadtwo days' leave and was somewhere up-town. He as yet had not been found.
A young officer of artillery volunteered the information that late theprevious evening, somewhere about ten, Mr. Ray had called at the Cuartelde Meysic, far over on the north side. He was most anxious to find asoldier named Connelly, who, he said, was at the Presidio at the timethe lieutenant's quarters were entered and robbed, and LieutenantAbercrombie had taken Mr. Ray off in search of the soldier.
Ray not appearing, the examination of Assistant Surgeon Brick began.Brick was the first medical officer to reach the scene of the murder.Benton was then stone dead, and brief examination showed the hole of abullet of large calibre--probably pistol, 44--right over the heart. Thecoarse blue uniform shirt and the fine undergarment of Lisle threadshowed by burn and powder-stain that the pistol had been close to oreven against the breast of the deceased. The bullet was lodged, hebelieved, under the shoulder-blade, but no post-mortem had yet beenpermitted, a circumstance the doctor referred to regretfully, and it wasmerely his opinion, based on purely superficial examination, that deathwas instantaneous, the result of the gunshot wound referred to. Dr.Brick further gave it as his professional opinion that post-mortemshould be no longer delayed.
And then at last came Stuyvesant's turn to speak for himself, and indead silence all men present faced him and listened with bated breath tohis brief, sorrowful words.
He was the officer halted by the sentry on Number 6 and called upon tocome back. The sentry did not catch his name and had to have it spelled.He frankly admitted his impatience, but denied all anger at the enforceddetention. The information about the fire at Colonel Brent's had causedhim anxiety and alarm, and as soon as released by the sentry he had run,had passed the patrol on the run, but there had been no altercation, nomisunderstanding even. The sentry had carried out his orders in asoldierly way that compelled the admiration of the witness, and beforeleaving him Stuyvesant had told him that he had done exactly right. Thenews that the sentry was found dead five minutes thereafter was a shock.Lieutenant Stuyvesant declared he carried no fire-arms whatever thatnight and was utterly innocent of the sentry's death. He recognized, hesaid, the revolver exhibited by Major MacNeil. He did not hesitate toadmit that he had seen and examined it late the previous afternoon atthe quarters of Colonel Brent, that he had actually put it in histrousers pocket not two minutes before he left the house to go in searchof Lieutenant Ray, but he solemnly declared that as he left the verandahe placed the pistol on a little table just to the right of the broadentrance to the salon, within that apartment, and never saw it againuntil it was produced here.
Frank, candid, "open and aboveboard" as was the manner of the witness,it did not fail to banish in great measure the feeling of antagonismthat had first existed against him in the crowded throng. But in thecold logic of the law and the chain of circumstantial evidence theyplainly saw that every statement, even that of Stuyvesant himself, boreheavily against him. A lawyer, had he been represented by counsel, wouldhave permitted no such admissions as he had made. A gentleman,unschooled in the law, preferred the frank admission to the distress ofseeing Mrs. Brent--and perhaps others--called into that presence totestify to his having had the pistol with him when he left the gallery.
Brent in his bewilderment had blurted out his wife's words in thehearing of the provost-marshal's people late the night before, and heand his household were yet to be called, and when called would have tosay that though they passed and possibly repassed through the salonbetween the moment of Stuyvesant's departure and that of their going outto dinner, not one of their number noticed even so bright and gleamingan object as Maidie's revolver. True, the lights were not brilliant inthe salon. True, the little table stood back against the wall five orsix feet from the door-way. Still, that pistol was a prominent object,and a man must have been in extraordinary haste indeed to leave a loadedweapon "lying round loose" in the hall.
That was the way "Thinking Bayonets" argued it, and soldiers by thescore crowding the sidewalk and entrance and unable to force their wayin, or even to make room for a most importunate female struggling on theoutskirts, hung on the words of an orderly who, despatched in furthersearch of Lieutenant Ray, was forcing a way out.
"How is it going?" said he. "Why, that young feller's just as good ashanging himself. He admits having had the pistol that did the business."
Ten minutes later a Filipino servant went to answer an imperative rap atthe panel in the massive door of No. 199 Calle San Luis. Dr. Frank hadbeen early to see his patient, and had enjoined upon Mrs. Brent and MissPorter silence as to last night's tragedy. Not until she was strongerwas Miss Ray to be allowed to know of the murder of Private Benton. "Bythat time," said he, "we shall be able to clear up this--mystery--I_
hope_."
The colonel had gone round to the police-station. Mrs. Brent, nervousand unhappy, had just slipped out for ten seconds, as she said to MissPorter, to see an old army chum and friend who lived only three doorsaway. Miss Porter, who had been awake hours of the night, had finallysucceeded, as she believed, in reading Maidie to sleep, and then,stretching herself upon the bamboo couch across the room, was, the nextthing she knew, aroused by voices.
Sandy Ray had entered so noiselessly that she had not heard, but Maidiehad evidently been expecting him. In low, earnest tone he was tellingthe result of his search the night before. She heard the words:
"Connelly is down with some kind of fever in hospital and hasn't seen orheard anything of any one even faintly resembling Foster. Then I foundyour old friend the brakeman. General Vinton has got him a good place inthe quartermaster's department, and he tells me he knows nothing, hasseen and heard nothing. Now I'm going to division head-quarters to findStuyvesant."
"And then," said Miss Porter, "my heart popped up into my throat and Isprang from the sofa." But too late. An awful, rasping voice at thedoor-way stilled the soft Kentucky tones and filled the room with dread.
"Then you've no time to lose, young man. It's high time somebody besidesme set out to help him. That other young man you call Foster lies deadat the police-station,--killed by _your_ pistol, Miss Ray, and Mr.Stuyvesant goes to jail for it."