THE BATTERIES OPEN FIRE.
Assistant District Attorney Badger conducted the examination of the first witness for the government, who gave his name as the Rev. St. George Thornton and wore the manner of an Oxford graduate.
"You knew the uncle of the accused, Prof. Arnold?"
"Excellently. He had been for many years an attendant at my church."
"The Church of the Messiah, of the Episcopal denomination?"
"The Episcopal church, sir; we do not consider it a denomination."
"You officiated at Prof. Arnold's funeral service, I believe?" said Badger, disregarding this nice distinction.
"I did."
"This took place on June 26, I believe?"
"On Thursday, June 26; yes, sir."
"And saw the accused, Robert Floyd?"
"Yes, sir."
"Kindly describe his actions and appearance on that occasion, Dr. Thornton."
"In common with others who knew him, I was greatly struck by the absence of any signs of grief."
"Such as what?"
"Such as tears and—and general signs of dejection."
"As though he were meditating upon something else than the death of his uncle?"
"As though his thoughts were far away."
"That is all," said Badger, and Shagarach, who had apparently expected something more substantial than this, arose.
"You have officiated at hundreds of funerals, I presume, Dr. Thornton?"
"At many hundreds, sir," answered the clergyman, gravely.
"And the ordinary marks of grief, as you say, are tears?"
"It is a rare burial in which tears are not shed."
"So rare that the exceptions impress themselves upon you, like the burial of Prof. Arnold?"
"Yes, sir."
"Would you say that in this class of rare exceptions the absence of tears was always due to callousness in the mourners?"
"Always? No, sir; not always."
"Generally?"
"I should not attempt to say, sir."
"You would scarcely judge the sincerity of a mourner's sorrow by the copiousness of flow from his lachrymal glands?"
"Hardly."
"One moment," said Badger, detaining Dr. Thornton for the redirect. "Did you mean to emphasize the tearlessness of the accused as the principal feature of his bearing which attracted your attention?"
"No, sir; it was the coldness, I may say the general indifference expressed in his countenance, which struck me."
"Will you allow me to see your eyeglasses, Dr. Thornton?" asked Shagarach. "The lenses are concave. You are near-sighted?"
"Yes, sir."
"Badly so, I should say?"
"Yes, sir."
"That will do."
"John Harkins," answered the next witness to Badger's preliminary question.
"Were you ever employed by Prof. Arnold?"
"I was."
"In what capacity?"
"As coachman."
"When?"
"About a year ago, just before Mungovan."
"How long did you remain in his household?"
"About two weeks."
"Did you notice anything unusual in the relations between the accused and his uncle?"
"Well, I heard them quarr'ling two or three times."
"What do you mean by quarreling?"
"Oh, they were talking angrily to each other."
"Did you listen so as to hear the import of any of these conversations?"
"Well, I didn't listen, but I heard what they were saying."
"How often did you hear what they said?"
"I heard the old gentleman say once that he was a young rogue to be herding with the like of them cattle."
"Who?"
"The young fellow—his nephew."
"Called his nephew a rogue to be herding with such cattle?"
"Yes, sir."
"Those were his own words?"
"As near as I can remember."
"What kind of a master was Prof. Arnold?" asked Shagarach.
"He was a pretty good man. I haven't anything against him."
"Particular, wasn't he?"
"Yes, he was particular."
"Why were you discharged at the end of a fortnight?"
"He didn't give any reason; just said I didn't suit, that was all."
"But he paid you in full?"
"Oh, yes."
"And you found him not unreasonably exacting?"
"Well, he used to grumble a good deal."
"At you?"
"At me, yes, and the others, too."
"You never heard the others complaining, however?"
"No, sir."
"What did they say when you told them of his grumbling at you?"
"Oh, they said when you get used to him you won't mind."
"When the two 'quarreled,' as you call it, how many of the voices were raised in what you took to be anger?"
"How many?"
"One or both?"
"Why, it was the professor that was angry."
"Didn't he always talk loudly?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he 'grumbled' at you?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he 'grumbled' at the other servants?"
"Yes, sir."
"But they didn't mind it?"
"No; they said I wouldn't mind it after awhile."
"Did Floyd seem to mind it, when you saw him after these 'quarrels,' as you call them?"
"I didn't notice."
"Will you, upon reflection, swear that these quarrels were anything more than frank, warm discussions, misunderstood by you at the time, but such as any two men of independent mold and opposite views might indulge in?"
The witness was greatly puzzled.
"Well, I can't say. It was pretty loud talking, that was all."
The redirect by Badger brought out nothing new for the government's case. It was felt that their attempt to show strained relations between uncle and nephew was no great success. But the next witness was looked to curiously. He gave his name and position as James L. Carberry, secretary of Bricklayers' council No. 31, C. L. U. He was a powerful man, with a conspicuously well-filled sleeve, suggesting that mighty flexed arm, grasping a mallet, which is the workingman's favorite symbol. But the low brow hinted at a degree of honest dullness. While Carberry was taking the stand Badger asked leave to submit a newspaper clipping to the jury.
"This bears upon the point we shall now endeavor to prove, your honors—namely, the anti-social opinions of the accused."
Against Shagarach's protest and exception, Chief Justice Playfair allowed the jury to read an article from the Beacon, signed "Robert Floyd," in which the following sentence was marked as especially obnoxious:
"When the highest court in the land decides that offensive combination of capitalists in trusts is right, but defensive combination of workingmen in labor unions is wrong, then the time is ripe for revolution."
Shagarach's defense of his client's right to freedom of speech and thought was eloquent. But courts are and no doubt should be the sanctuaries of orthodoxy, and any other conclusion than that which Chief Justice Playfair and his two colleagues reached, in a matter so personal to themselves, could hardly be expected.
"You know the accused?" asked the district attorney of Carberry.
"I have met him," answered the witness.
"State to the jury the occasion upon which you met him."
"It was at a meeting of the union one Sunday afternoon, about six months ago."
"Did you have any conversation with him at that time?"
"Yes, sir."
"On what topic?"
"On strikes and labor questions and anarchy and——"
"Will you state what opinions, if any, the defendant expressed in regard to anarchy?"
"He told me he sympathized with the anarchists."
"Anything further?"
"Yes, sir; he said in his opinion assassination was justifiable."
"Where did this conversation take place?"
"In a little smoking-room off the hall."
"Were you alone?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you remember the particular occasion which started your discussion of anarchism with the accused?" asked Shagarach, after a consultation with Floyd.
"No, sir."
"Wasn't it the arrest of Dr. Hyndman in London?"
"Oh, yes, I believe it was."
"It was for Dr. Hyndman that Floyd expressed sympathy, was it not?"
"Yes, sir, it was Hyndman."
"Do you happen to know whether Dr. Hyndman is a philosophical anarchist or not?"
"Sir?"
"Do you know what school of anarchism Dr. Hyndman represents?"
"No, sir."
"Do you know whether he advocates bomb-throwing?"
"I suppose so."
"You take it for granted, then, that all anarchists are bomb-throwers?"
"Yes, sir."
"Had Dr. Hyndman thrown a bomb?"
"I don't remember."
"Don't you remember that he merely made an anarchistic speech, in denunciation of society?"
"No, sir."
"You didn't inquire into the matter much?"
"No, sir."
"But Floyd, you say, expressed sympathy with the anarchists?"
"Yes, sir." This was said emphatically.
"Didn't he say that he sympathized with Dr. Hyndman?"
"That's what I told you."
"No, sir, it is not what you told me. Didn't Floyd say he sympathized with Dr. Hyndman as opposed to the bomb-throwing anarchists?"
"I don't remember that he did."
"Didn't he say that he sympathized with Dr. Hyndman's objects, but not his methods?"
"I don't remember anything about that."
"Then you didn't carry away a very clear idea of the conversation, did you?"
"I think I did," the witness replied with positiveness. Then the cross-examiner dismissed him, satisfied to have made it apparent that fine distinctions would pass through Mr. Carberry's mind like beach sand through a sieve. The redirect examination went over the same ground, and Badger placed a Mr. Lovejoy on the stand.
"You are treasurer of the Beacon company, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"All checks in payment for services rendered pass through you?"
"Through my subordinates or myself."
"Have you calculated, as requested, the total sums paid to Robert Floyd for special articles during the time of his employment?"
"I have."
"Will you state to the jury the earning capacity of this young man at the time of his uncle's death?"
"The question is prejudicially framed, Brother Badger," said Shagarach. "Please do not incorporate your own inferences when examining a witness."
"How much had Floyd earned while with you?" asked Badger.
"From January to June, inclusive, six monthly checks were made out payable to Robert Floyd, for services, and three smaller checks for expenses incurred. The amount of the former checks was $309."
"During six months?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Hero Leander," said the next witness.
"City editor of the Beacon, I believe?"
"Yes, sir."
"Will you state any conversation you had with Inspector McCausland on Monday morning, June 30?"
"The conversation on my side was conducted in the deaf-and-dumb alphabet. Mr. McCausland entered our office and inquired which was Floyd's desk."
"And what did you do?"
"I pointed."
"To Floyd's desk?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. McCausland."
A buzz of expectancy went around when the inspector walked in from the ante-room and mounted the stand. He wore a rose in his buttonhole, but the smile had left his countenance. With his testimony, it was felt, the real case for the prosecution began.
"You arrested the accused, I believe, Mr. McCausland?" asked the district attorney, amid the breathless attention of the court.
"I had that disagreeable task to perform."
"Where was the arrest made?"
"On the steps of the Putnam hotel."
"What was your first act upon reaching the station?"
"I stripped the accused and confiscated the clothes he wore."
"These were the clothes he had worn at the time of the fire, also?"
"He stated so."
"You have preserved those garments?"
"Yes, sir."
"You also confiscated the desk which Floyd had occupied at the Beacon office?"
"The drawers of it, yes, sir."
"Have you preserved the contents of that desk?"
"Yes, sir."
"Will you inform the jury what you found in the drawers of Robert Floyd's desk?"
"Three copies of the anarchist organ, Freiheit. There they are."
"Do these papers preach philosophical anarchy, Mr. McCausland?"
"I should say not. They are in German, but the leading editorial of this one—which was kindly translated for me by a friend—recommends the 'stamping out by fire and sword of John Burns and all such peace-mongering worms.'"
"A forcible expression, surely. It is the Most organ, in short?"
"Yes, sir."
"Will you state the further results of your search in the desk?"
"I found this paper of powder, a part of a fuse, a written formula for manufacturing a bomb, a blotter with part of a note on it, legible by the help of a mirror——"
"That will do for the present, Mr. McCausland. And will you state what you may have found in the pockets of Floyd's coat?"
"A quantity of powder. There were grains of it also on the knees of his trousers."
"Similar to that found in his desk?"
"Yes, sir."
"What else?"
"A burnt match," said the inspector, just as the clock struck five and the constable's gavel sounded a prelude to adjournment.