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Page 78
"Good again," replied Maitland, reaching for the paper and appearing
somewhat disconcerted as he glanced at it. "You have smutched the
signature;--however, it doesn't matter," and he exhibited the paper
to the Judge and Jury. "The negative must have been oily--yes,
that's where it came from," and he quietly examined it with a
magnifying glass, to the wonderment of us all. "That is all, M.
Godin; thank you."
As the celebrated detective left the stand we were all doing our best
to fathom what possible bearing all this could have upon Latour's
confession. M. Godin for once seemed equally at a loss to comprehend
the trend of affairs, if I may judge by the deep furrows which
gathered between his eyes.
Maitland then proceeded to address the Court and to sum up his case,
the gist of which I shall give you as nearly as possible in his own
words, omitting only such portions as were purely formal,
uninteresting, or unnecessarily verbose.
"Your Honour and Gentlemen of the Jury: John Darrow was murdered and
the prisoner, M. Gustave Latour, has confessed that he did the deed.
When a man denies the commission of a crime we do not feel bound to
consider his testimony of any particular value; but when, on the
other hand, a prisoner accused of so heinous a crime as murder
responds to the indictment, 'I am guilty,' we instinctively feel
impelled to believe his testimony. Why is this? Why do we doubt
his word when he asserts his innocence and accept it when he
acknowledges his guilt? I will tell you. It is all a question of
motive. Could we see as cogent a motive for asseverating his guilt
as we find for his insisting upon his innocence, we should lend as
much credence to the one as to the other. I propose to show that M.
Latour has what seems to him the strongest of motives for confessing
to the murder of John Darrow. If I am able to do this to your
satisfaction, I shall practically have thrown M. Latour's entire
testimony out of court, and nothing of importance will then remain
but the evidence of the government's witness, M. Godin."
A great wave of excitement swept over the room at these remarks.
"What!" each said to himself, "is it possible that this lawyer will
try to prove that Latour, despite his circumstantial confession,
did not commit the murder after all?" We did not dare let such a
thought take hold of us, yet could not see what else could explain
Maitland's remarks. Is it any wonder, therefore, that we all waited
breathlessly for him to continue? M. Godin's face was dark and
lowering. It was evident he did not propose to have his skill as a
detective,--and with it the Darrow reward,--set aside without a
struggle--at least so it seemed to me. The room was as quiet as
the grave when Maitland continued.
"I shall show you that M. Godin's testimony is utterly unreliable,
and, moreover, that it is intentionally so."
This was a direct accusation, and at it M. Godin's face became of
ashen pallor. I felt that he was striving to control his anger and
saw the effort that it cost him as he fastened Maitland with a
stiletto-like look that was anything but reassuring. George did
not appear to notice it and continued easily:
"I shall prove to you beyond a doubt that, in the actual murder of
John Darrow, only one person was concerned,--by which I mean, that
only one person was outside the east window when he met his death.
I shall also show that M. Latour was not, and could not by any
possibility have been, that person. [At this juncture Browne arose
and walked toward the door. He was very pale and looked anything
but well. I thought he was going to leave, but he reseated himself
at the back of the room near the door.] I shall convince you that
M. Latour's description of the way the murder was committed is false."
All eyes were turned toward Latour, but he made no sign either of
affirmation or dissent. With his eyes closed and his hands falling
listlessly in front of him, he sat in a half-collapsed condition,
like one in a stupor. M. Godin shifted uneasily in his chair, as
if he could not remain silent much longer. Maitland proceeded with
calm deliberation:
"Mr. Clinton Browne--"
But he did not finish the sentence. At the name "Mr. Clinton Browne"
he was interrupted by a sudden commotion at the rear of the room,
followed by a heavy fall which shook the whole apartment. We all
turned and looked toward the door. Several men had gathered about
someone lying upon the floor, and one of them was throwing water in
the face of the prostrate man. Presently he revived a little, and
they bore him out into the cooler air of the corridor. It was
Clinton Browne. The great tension of the trial, his own strong
emotions, and the closeness of the room had doubtless been too much
for him. I could not but marvel at it, however. Here were delicate
women with apparently little or no staying power, and yet this
athlete, with the form of a Mars and the fibre of a Hercules, must
be the first to succumb. Verily, even physicians are subject to
surprises!
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