CHAPTER XXXII
The Courts were crowded on the day that Philip Meadowes stood his trial at the Old Bailey. The case attracted a vast deal of attention in its day, and if all the cross-questioning of Phil’s case were reported here, they would make a ponderous volume, that no one would ever finish. So the outlines of the trial must suffice for the story.
‘How say you, Philip Richard William Meadowes, Are you Guilty of the felony and murder whereof you stand indicted, or Not guilty?’
‘Not guilty.’
‘How will you be tried?’
‘By God and my country.’
‘God send you a good deliverance.’
So ran the time-honoured prelude; and the listening crowds echoed the prayer, for Phil made a very interesting prisoner.
He stood in the dock and looked round him, nodding to right and left as he recognised friends among the crowd, as easy and self-possessed as any man in the house.
There was no trace of anxiety on his face, and he listened with interest and apparent unconcern to the damning evidence brought against him.
The watchman came up for examination first.
‘May it please you, my Lord,’ said he, ‘this is all I know of this matter; that on the night of the 9th January, being a black dark night from want o’ the moon, I came of a sudden round the corner of —— Street, and was half on top of something lying on the pavement before that I well knew what I was about. A man rose up from under my very feet, and, guessing there was something amiss, I caught at him, and we struggled a minute, but I’d to let go my lantern and it went out in the falling. That moment came a voice from the ground, “Run, Phil, run, lest this bring you into trouble,” and with a great blow the man knocked me down and ran. I was a moment rising, and I stood to listen which way he’d gone, but I heard naught but the steps of a man without shoes a-scudding down the street, for all the world as you may have heard the tail of a codfish flapping the flags o’ Billingsgate. I followed after, but I lost him in the darkness before I well knew. I came back to see if aught could be done for the wounded man, but he was going fast by then, and did but breathe once or twice again, with never a word—and, my Lord, I know no more.’
‘Have you any notion of the hour?’
‘The hour was some ten minutes before three o’ the clock.’
‘In what direction did the man run?’
‘He ran in the direction of St. James’ Square.’
There was a little ripple of excitement through the Court. Then Peter, looking older by ten years, was brought into the witness-box.
‘At what hour did you open the door to your master?’
‘At three o’ the clock, my Lord; the watch had passed a moment before.’
‘Did your master say anything to you on coming in?’
‘He said, “I’m half asleep, like yourself, Peter,” and passed on up the stairs.’
There was then brought forward a mass of secondary evidence, as to the relations which had existed between Philip and his father, and so on. But even with this the trial did not threaten to be a long one. No complications seemed to spring up, the whole case was virtually settled long before all these matters had been gone into. The summing up came at last:—
‘Gentlemen of the Jury, you have heard a long evidence; I shall now take notice of a few points, which I think are the most material.
‘The indictment against the prisoner at the bar is for a very great crime: it is for murder, and, moreover, for the murder of a parent. You must now consider the evidence.
‘You have heard that for some time past the relations between the late Richard Meadowes and his son have been somewhat strained; but you have also heard evidence to-day, that on the night of the 9th January they met with apparent good feeling on both sides, that Meadowes borrowed money of his father, and that they went out together, apparently on good terms. You have heard, gentlemen of the Jury, that Meadowes, when he went out, wore no shoes. The chain of evidence which we have heard after this is curiously complete. The watchman has told us that the murderer who ran down the street wore no shoes, and that the dying man called him “Philip” twice by name, begging him to run for his life. You have evidence that the murderer was discovered at his horrid task, at ten minutes before three of the clock, and that he ran in the direction of St. James’ Square. The time which it would take to go quickly between —— Street and St. James’ Square is about ten minutes. You have evidence that Meadowes came home at three of the clock. Gentlemen, I am very much puzzled in my thoughts, and am at a loss to find out what inducement there could be to draw Mr. Meadowes to commit such a horrid, barbarous murder. For though he hath not been on the best of terms with the late gentleman, his father, yet the supposed cause of their coolness—an imprudent marriage—is not a cause likely to lead to such tragic happenings as these. Nor can I see what Mr. Meadowes would gain by the crime, were it not his own undoing. But, against these considerations, you must weigh the extraordinary evidence which you have heard, and must judge whether it be a likely case that another man, known to Richard Meadowes as “Philip,” and wearing no shoes, should have committed this crime. I do not say more, gentlemen; there is little more to say; go and consider your evidence, and I pray God direct you in giving your verdict.’
The Jury were absent for a very short time.
‘Gentlemen, are you all agreed in your verdict?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who shall say for you?’
‘Foreman.’
‘Philip Richard William Meadowes, hold up thy hand.’ Which he did.
‘Look upon the prisoner. How say you? Is he Guilty of the murder whereof he stands indicted, or Not guilty?’
‘Guilty.’
Philip listened, incredulous. Then, as the truth forced itself in upon his mind, the injustice and cruelty of fate overcame him. In his wrath and bitterness he stood silent, then, with a sudden hard bitter little laugh, and a dramatic movement of his hand, he leant forward to speak.
‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘I am innocent of the blood of this just man.’