CHAPTER XVIII.
To say that Mr. Ray's abrupt announcement was a surprise to the densethrong of listeners is putting it mildly. To say that it was receivedwith incredulity on part of the soldiery, and concern, if not keenapprehension, by old friends of Sandy's father who were present, is buta faint description of the effect of the lad's emphatic statement.
To nine out of ten among the assembly the young officer was a totalstranger. To more than nine out of ten the identification of the dead asWalter Foster, Maidie Ray's luckless lover, was already complete, andmany men who have made up their minds are incensed at those who dare todiffer from them.
True, Mr. Stuyvesant had said that the sentry, Number 6, did not remindhim except in stature, form, and possibly in features, of the recruit heknew as Foster on the train. He did not speak like him. But, whenclosely questioned by the legal adviser of the provost-marshal'sdepartment--the officer who conducted most of the examination with muchof the manner of a prosecuting attorney, Mr. Stuyvesant admitted that hehad only seen Foster once to speak to, and that was at night in the dimlight of the Sacramento station on what might be called the off-side ofthe train, where the shadows were heavy, and while the face of the youngsoldier was partially covered with a bandage. Yet Vinton attachedimportance to his aide-de-camp's opinion, and when Ray came outflat-footed, as it were, in support of Stuyvesant's views, the generalwas visibly gratified.
But, except for these very few, Ray had spoken to unbelieving ears.Sternly the military lawyer took him in hand and began to probe. No needto enter into details. In ten minutes the indignant young gentleman, whonever in his life had told a lie, found himself the target of ten scoreof hostile eyes, some wrathful, some scornful, some contemptuous, someinsolent, some only derisive, but all, save those of a few silentlyobservant officers, threatening or at least inimical.
Claiming first that he knew Walter Foster well (and, indeed, it seemedto him he did, for his mother's letters to the Big Horn ranch had muchto say of Maidie's civilian admirer, though Maidie herself could rarelybe induced to speak of him), Ray was forced to admit that he had met himonly twice or thrice during a brief and hurried visit to Fort Averill tosee his loved ones before they moved to Fort Leavenworth, and then heowned he paid but little attention to the sighing swain. Questioned asto his opportunities of studying and observing Foster, Sandy had beenconstrained to say that he hadn't observed him closely at all. He"didn't want to--exactly." They first met, it seems, in saddle. Thewinter weather was glorious at Averill. They had a fine pack of hounds;coursing for jack-rabbit was their favorite sport, and, despite the factthat Foster had a beautiful and speedy horse, "his seat was so poor andhis hand so jerky he never managed to get up to the front," said Sandy.
It was not brought out in evidence, but the fact was that Sandy couldnever be got to look on Foster with the faintest favor as a suitor forhis sister's hand. A fellow who could neither ride, shoot, norspar--whose accomplishments were solely of the carpet and perhaps thetennis-court--the boy had no use for. He and Maidie rode as though bornto the saddle. He had seen Foster in an English riding-suit and Englishsaddle and an attempt at the English seat, but decidedly without thedeft English hand on his fretting hunter's mouth the one day that theyappeared in field together, and the sight was too much for Sandy. Thatnight at dinner, and the later dance, Foster's perfection of dress andmanner only partially redeemed him in Sandy's eyes, and--well--really,that was about all he ever had seen of Foster.
Questioned as to his recollection of Foster's features, stature, etc.,Sandy did his best, and only succeeded in portraying the deceased almostto the life. Except, he said, Foster had long, thick, curving eyelashes,and "this man hasn't"--but it was remembered that brows and lashes bothwere singed off in the fire. So that point failed. Questioned as towhether he realized that his description tallied closely with theappearance of the deceased, Sandy said that that all might be, but still"this isn't Foster." Questioned as to whether, if the deceased wereagain to have the color and action,--the life that Foster had a yearago,--might not the resemblance to Foster be complete?--Sandy simply"couldn't tell."
Nearly an hour was consumed in trying to convince him he must, or atleast might, be mistaken, but to no purpose. He mentioned a cardphotograph of Foster in ranch costume that would convince the gentlemen,he thought, that there was no such very strong resemblance, and a notewas written to Miss Porter asking her to find and send the picture inquestion. It came, a cabinet photo of a tall, slender, well-built youngfellow with dark eyes and brows and thick, curving lashes and oval,attractive face, despite its boyishness, and nine men out of ten who sawand compared it with the face of the dead declared it looked as thoughit had been taken for the latter perhaps a year or so agone. Ray hadhurt his own case, and, when excused to return to his sister's side,went forth into the gathering twilight stricken with the consciousnessthat he was believed to have lied in hopes of averting scandal from thatsister's name.
And on the morrow with that _post-mortem_, so insisted on by Brick, nolonger delayed, the dead again lay mutely awaiting the final action ofthe civil-military authorities, and to the surprise of the officers andguards, before going to the daily routine that kept him from early morntill late at night in his beleaguered office, Drayton came and bowed hisgray head and gazed with sombre eyes into the sleeping features nowbefore him.
A pinched and tired look was coming over the waxen face that had been socalm and placid, as though in utter weariness over this senseless delay.Drayton had been told of young Ray's almost astounding declaration, andofficers of the law half expected him to make some adverse commentthereon, but he did not. Alert correspondents, amazed to see the corpscommander at such a place and so far from the Ayuntamiento, surroundedhim as he would have retaken his seat in his carriage, and clamored forsomething as coming from him in the way of an expression of opinion,which, with grave courtesy, the general declined to give, but could notprevent appearing a week later in a thousand papers and in a dozendifferent forms--ferried over to Hong Kong by the Shogun or some othership, and cabled thence to waiting Christendom.
Drayton had his own reasons for wishing to see the remains, then Vinton,and later Ray, and as his movements were closely followed, the wits ofthe correspondents were sorely taxed. But the examination was to beresumed at nine. A rumor was running wild that Miss Ray herself was tobe summoned to appear, and Drayton had to be dropped in favor of a morepromising sensation.
It began with dreary surgical technicalities. The heavy bullet hadtraversed the ascending aorta "near its bifurcation," said Brick, who,though only an autopsical adjunct, was permitted to speak for hisassociates. Death, said he, had resulted from shock and was probablyinstantaneous. No other cause could be attributed. No other wound wasdiscovered. No marks of scuffle except "some unimportant scratches" onthe shoulder. The bullet was found to weigh exactly the same as those ofthe unexploded cartridges in poor Maidie's prized revolver, and thoughBrick would gladly have kept the floor and told very much more, theprovost-marshal as gladly got rid of him, for, despite the unwillingnessof the medical officers at the Cuartel de Meysic, Connelly had beentrundled down to Ermita in a springy ambulance and was presentlyawaiting his turn.
The moment his coming was announced, Connelly was ushered in and Brickshut off short.
A nurse and doctor were with the sturdy little Irishman, and he neededbut brief instruction as to what was wanted. Taken to the trestle andbidden to look upon the face of the deceased and say, if he could, whoit was, Connelly looked long and earnestly, and then turned feebly butcalmly to the attentive array.
"If it wasn't that this looks much thinner," said he, "I'd say it was aman who 'listed with our detachment at Denver last June, about the firstweek. The name was Foster. He disappeared somewhere between Sacramentoand Oakland, and I never saw him again."
Questioned as to whether there was any mark by which the recruit couldbe known, Connelly said that he was present when Foster was physicallyexamined, and he never saw a man with
a whiter skin; there wasn't a markon him anywhere then that he could remember. Bidden to tell what he knewof Foster, the young artilleryman was given a seat, and somewhat feeblyproceeded. Foster was bound to enlist, he said, was of legal age andlooked it; gave his full name, his home and business; said he owned aranch down in New Mexico near Fort Averill; didn't know enough to go infor a commission and was determined to enlist and serve as a privatesoldier in the cavalry. He had good clothes and things that he put in atrunk and expressed back to Averill, keeping only a valise full ofunderwear, etc., but that was burned up on the car afterwards. Two dayslater, before they started for the West, a man who said his name wasMurray came to the rendezvous and asked for Foster, who was then beingdrilled. A detachment was to start the next day, and anybody could seethat Foster wasn't glad to welcome Murray by any means, but on that veryevening Murray said that he too wished to enlist and go with his"friend." He squeezed through the physical examination somehow, and theytook him along, though nobody liked his looks.
Then Connelly told what he could of the fire and of Foster's subsequentdisappearance, also of Murray and Murray's misconduct. They askedConnelly about Lieutenant Stuyvesant, and here Connelly waxed almosteloquent, certainly enthusiastic, in Stuyvesant's praise. Somebody wentso far, however, as to ask whether he had ever seen any manifestation ofill-will between Stuyvesant and Recruit Foster, whereat Connelly lookedastonished, seemed to forget his fever, and to show something akin toindignation.
"No, indeed!" said he. There was nothing but good-will of the heartiestkind everywhere throughout the detachment except for that oneblackguard, Murray. They all felt most grateful to the lieutenant, andso far as he knew they'd all do most anything for him, all exceptMurray, but he was a tough, he was a biter, and here the sick man feeblyuplifted his hand and pointed to the bluish-purple marks at the base ofthe thumb.
"Murray did that," said Connelly simply. "He was more like a beast thana man."
But the examiners did not seem interested in Murray. General Vinton, whohad again entered and was a close listener, and was observed to bestudying the witness closely, presently beckoned to one of the doctorsand said a word in undertone to him. The medico shook his head. Therewas a lull in the proceedings a moment. Connelly was too sick a man tobe kept there long, and his doctor plainly showed his anxiety to get himaway. The crowd too wanted him to go. He had told nothing especially newexcept that Murray and Foster were acquainted, and Murray enlistedbecause Foster had.
"Everybody" said by this time this must be Foster's body. What"everybody" wanted was to get Connelly out of the way now, thenperhaps--_another_ fever patient might be summoned, for they couldn'texpect to keep those remains another day. There was widespread, ifunspoken, hope among the score of correspondents that theprovost-marshal would feel that he must summon Miss Ray.
But before the examiners could decide there came an unexpected scene.Vinton went over, bent, and whispered to the provost-marshal, who lookedup, nodded, and glanced towards the witness, sitting flushed andheavy-eyed, but patient, across the room. Vinton was plainly askingsomething, and to the manifest displeasure of many of the crowd thelittle Irishman was again accosted.
"You say Murray was a biter and bit you so that the marks last to thisday. Did you take note of any peculiarity in his teeth?"
"Yes, sir. One of 'em was gone near the front, right-hand side, next tothe big yellow eye-tooth."
"Would that make a peculiar mark on human flesh?"
"Yes, sir," answered Connelly, holding up his hand again and showing thescar, now nearly five months old.
"Steward," said the officer placidly, "uncover the shoulder there andlet Connelly look at the mark Dr. Brick referred to."
Connelly did. He studied the purplish discolorations in the milky skin,and excitement, not altogether febrile, suddenly became manifest in hishot, flushed face. Then he held forth one hand, palm uppermost, eagerlycompared the ugly scars at the base of the thumb with the faint marks onthe broad, smooth shoulder, and turned back to the darkened room. Withhand uplifted he cried:
"Major,"--and now he was trembling with mingled weakness andeagerness,--"I knew that man Murray was following this young feller tosqueeze money out of him, and when he couldn't get it by threats, hetried by force. He's followed him clear to Manila, and that's his marksure's this is!--sure's there's a God in heaven!"