THE WRATH OF SHAGARACH.
Walter Riley, Thomas J. Fenton and Arthur Watts had a separate trial from the other members of the "club," which resorted to Lanty Lonergan's back kitchen. There was only one charge against them—to wit, the larceny of three bicycles and their sale to one Timothy Bagley, aforesaid, dealer in junk.
The government had little difficulty in proving its case. First, one of the owners of the bicycles testified to having recognized his wheel, cunningly repainted, in a stranger's possession, to following up its rider and tracing it finally to an auction sale at which he had purchased it cheap. From the auctioneer to Bagley, from Bagley to the "club," was easy work for the officer detailed to investigate the theft. Walter's unsold wheel was confiscated, together with all the other stolen property on the premises, and no fewer than seven of the boys placed under arrest. But the only charge against Riley, Fenton and Watts was the theft of the bicycles.
Bagley, the junkman, who was involved in the affair, had made a singular confession, candid enough in most particulars but with great hiatuses here and there concerning the disposal of certain articles, principally articles of value—a watch, a meerschaum pipe and the third of the bicycles. No threats or promises in private had been able to wring from him a confession concerning these points. But at the mention of a pipe Shagarach had raised his head and, crossing over to the prosecuting attorney, secured a description of the missing object.
"You admit, then, that you offered Riley $10 for the bicycle which he had ridden?" asked Shagarach of Bagley on cross-examination.
"Yes, sir."
"How often did you repeat this offer?"
"Several times—about four or five times."
"And the boy each time refused?"
"Yes, sir."
"What language did he use?"
"He said the wheel wasn't his."
"Which you knew very well, didn't you, without being told?"
"Yes, sir."
"And when you proposed that Fenton should ride the bicycle over to your shop, what was Riley's conduct then?"
"I don't know of my own knowledge. But they told me that he wouldn't have it."
"He threatened them, then?"
"Yes, sir, you might call it threatening."
"Then Riley would appear to have put forward some claim upon the bicycle, although he denied that it was his. Would you not say that he seemed to regard himself as its custodian rather than its proprietor? That he was storing it in Lonergan's kitchen until the occasion should arise when it might be returned to its owner?"
"Well, the boys said he was sorry for taking the wheel and that he never meant to steal it."
"That is all—all on that point, I mean." Bagley had started to leave the stand. "There is another matter, however, with regard to the third bicycle—the one which has not been recovered"—Bagley shifted uneasily to the opposite foot. "How does it happen that you, the sole repository of the secrets of these young law-breakers, can tell us nothing of that?"
"I know nothing about it."
"And about the gold watch stolen from Mr. Merchant's window?"
"I don't know, sir."
"And the meerschaum pipe—of rare coloring, according to the connoisseur who testified in the previous trial?"
"I know nothing about the watch and the pipe, sir. They are not in my line. I couldn't dispose of such articles."
"Ah! But you might be acquainted with somebody who could, might you not?"
"I suppose I might——"
"Some second-hand dealer, let us say?"
Bagley's eye dropped and he looked pale.
"Have you been visited, Bagley, by any one, since you were let out on bail?"
"Only by my bondsman."
"What is your bondsman's name?"
Bagley hesitated so long that the judge finally had to order him to answer.
"Mr. Rabofsky," he stammered.
"Kindly subpoena Mr. Simon Rabofsky," said Shagarach to Aronson. "It is that gentleman just starting to leave the room. He will remain for a few moments."
The writ was made out and handed by the awe-stricken Aronson to the money-lender, who glared at him furiously. But he could not escape.
"Mr. Rabofsky is a second-hand dealer, I believe?" continued Shagarach.
"I think so."
"Of a higher class than yourself?"
"Oh, yes sir. Mr. Rabofsky's reputation is first class."
"How much money did Simon Rabofsky offer you to keep him out of this scrape?" was the next question. The witness looked over at the money-lender in terror; then back at Shagarach, and his terror was intensified.
"No money," he finally gasped.
"Would you be willing to swear that if Mr. Henderson, the owner of that pipe, should call to-day at 84 Salem street and request Mrs. Rebecca Rabofsky to sell him the colored meerschaum which her husband was showing to a customer yesterday, when Mr. Shagarach called, he would be told that no such article was in the store?"
Either the length of the question or its import confused the witness.
"No, sir," he answered.
"You would not be willing——"
"Yes, sir, I mean—that is—how do I know?"
"Mr. Henderson," said Shagarach, turning to a gentleman present, "will doubtless be interested enough to try. He could be back in half an hour. That will do, Bagley."
During the half-hour Shagarach put on, as witnesses for the defense, Walter's schoolmaster, who told an anecdote of his truthfulness and another of his generosity, which were better than the warmest words of general commendation; and Emily Barlow, whose story of the theft accorded exactly with Walter's own, which was honestly told, with a correctness of language that his former master did not fail to notice.
"Only I never meant to steal it," he said finally. "We all clung together and I was sorry before I got home. I read the papers to see if the owners' names were given, but they lived too far out of town. If I knew whose it was I would have ridden it out to him again."
To all this the judge listened coldly. He was a new appointee, fearful lest the balance of Libra on his unpracticed fingertip should incline too much one way or the other. Just as Walter concluded, Mr. Henderson returned and Simon Rabofsky was summoned to the stand. He muttered in his beard and flashed a glance of hatred at Shagarach.
"What do you know of this case?" asked the lawyer.
"Nothing."
He looked furtively at Mr. Henderson.
"That will do for the present. Mr. Henderson, will you kindly testify as to the result of your search?"
Mr. Henderson's testimony was brief and pointed. He had visited 84 Salem street, stating that he came from Mr. Rabofsky and desired to see a colored meerschaum pipe. The lady had shown him his own pipe. He had priced it. Twenty-five dollars. She had procured it, she said——
"One moment," interrupted Shagarach. "Will you kindly remain awhile, Mr. Henderson? Mr. Rabofsky again."
Rabofsky returned.
"You have heard Mr. Henderson's testimony?"
"I have heard it. If you had sense enough to ask me, I could have told you that without sending him off on a wild-goose chase."
Shagarach knew that Rabofsky was excited, because his accent came out so strongly.
"Go on," he said, giving him the rope to hang himself by.
"I know nothing about this case. That pipe I took from a woman who wanted money. I lent her $25 and she never came back. All I ask is what I paid for it, no more, no less, and so I wash my hands of all of you."
"Not yet," said Shagarach. "You are required by law to record the names of persons who pawn articles. If we should send an officer down to your shop would he find the woman's name in your book?"
"She would not give me her name."
"But you loaned her the money?"
"She cried and was so poor I took pity——"
"Enough," said Shagarach in temper. "Mr. Henderson!"
Mr. Henderson replaced Rabofsky a second time.
"You were about to say that you inquired of Mrs. Rabofsky where her husband obtained the pipe, were you not?"
"Yes, sir, I asked her that."
"What was her answer?"
"That it was his own pipe he had smoked for eleven years."
This statement produced a visible effect on the spectators. It concluded the defense for Walter Riley. After the prosecuting attorneys had pleaded for sentence, Shagarach briefly addressed the judge.
"The real criminals in this case, your honor, are the last two witnesses—adults of responsible years, and one of them, at least, enjoying a reputable position. They were the receivers of the stolen goods and the encouragers of the crimes. Were I prosecuting attorney, I should suspend the cases against the young defendants until justice had been done to both of these maturer thieves.
"I cannot look upon the deed committed on the lonely roadside at Hillsborough as a serious offense, for which our code provides a penalty. It was a prank, played in the ebullient spirit of mischief, but given an ambiguous color by Miss Barlow's well-meant outcry of warning. Evil resides in the intentions of the mind. Not until Fenton and Watts disposed of the property which was not theirs was their misdemeanor consummated and an unhappy practical jest warped into a legal theft.
"Even then, I might recommend clemency to all three offenders, on account of their youth and the restitution of the property. For I have no doubt that the missing bicycle will be found installed beside the meerschaum pipe in Simon Rabofsky's back room. But, considering the evil associations which these boys have formed, and their unfortunate homes, Fenton having no mother and Watts an intemperate one, I believe that a short period of retirement, under the regular discipline of the reformatory, would be of advantage to them.
"But the case of Riley is different. His character is better than that of the others. He is fortunate in possessing an excellent mother, who depends upon him in part for support. Moreover, the refusal on his part to dispose of the bicycle, against a pressure few boys of his age could resist, shows a moral courage which is exceedingly rare in my experience, and which only needs fostering to develop its possessor into an admirable man. I, therefore, respectfully suggest that Riley be placed on probation."
If the judge were not so new to the bench he would have known that Shagarach's addresses were always brief. But, knowing the great lawyer only by reputation, he judged that the brevity of his plea denoted a perfunctory interest in the case. The sentencing was deferred until 4 o'clock, when a whole batch of prisoners filed into the "cage," one after another, to receive their punishments.
"Ochone!" cried a maundering old woman after every sentence, and even the court officers whispered to each other:
"Perkins is having a picnic to-day."
But there was little severity in the sentence accorded to the white-faced youth who came just before the three gamins. Emily recognized in amazement Mr. Arthur Kennedy Foxhall.
"In consideration of your social standing," said the judge, "of your promise to reform and of the fact that your weakness is one which injures only yourself, I will mitigate the penalty."
Then the clerk read out a fine of $20 and costs. The opium parlors of Hi Wong King had recently been raided. That is to say, four tall, youngish men had entered one evening and called for dinner. For Hi Wong King's restaurant was open to all. Chicken wings had been served them and an aromatic salad. Jelly pats had been dropped over their heads into dainty plates, on which droll baboons scratched their heads and tigers grimaced fiercely. Such is the art of the orient. Tea leaves newly steeped in a bowl had taught them their first lesson in the needlessness of sugar and milk; and they had practiced with the merry chopsticks, a pair in each hand. Then, by way of diversion, they broke through the painted screens into Hi Wong King's rear parlors and arrested eight opium smokers, Mongol and Caucasian, of both sexes; among these one who was dreaming over a peculiarly elegant pipe proved to be Emily's admirer.
"Riley, Fenton and Watts, stand up," said the clerk. Walter's cheeks were burning red, as he stood between his companions. They seemed to feel the disgrace less keenly and looked at the clerk with sheepish and cunning glances.
"Fenton and Watts, you are sentenced to the reform school during your minority, and Riley for the space of one year!"
"Ochone!" broke out the maundering old woman and a chill fell on Emily's heart. Then the voice of Shagarach was heard in wrath. The building seemed to quake with its power. It was such a voice as that Roman tribune may have owned who could make himself heard from end to end of the forum.
"Sir, you have just imposed a nominal fine on a mature man, who has not only, as you speciously alleged, ruined himself by a degrading vice, but done what example could to spread its contagion. Immediately after you sentence three poor children to long terms of imprisonment. Are you ignorant that four in seven of all who enter those institutions return to them sooner or later? Do you see no possible spark of reform in the natures of these boys, no means of tiding over the danger period of youth, the formative years, the sowing season? Or do you think to scatter seeds inside a jail and reap some other crop than crime? Sir, it is not my sense of justice that social standing should condone offenses and social obscurity magnify them."
The ticking of the clock could be heard when Shagarach paused. Officer looked at officer, as if they expected immediately to be called upon to execute a sentence of contempt on the audacious lawyer. But Shagarach's reputation was great, and Judge Perkins could not afford to inaugurate his session in the Criminal Court by a conflict with such a man. He only stroked his chin nervously and pulled at his severe legal whiskers.
"I do not know which is the more deserving of censure," continued Shagarach, "the dangerous laxity of the one judgment, which virtually acquits a convicted lawbreaker, or the atrocious severity of the other, which condemns to a year's whole punishment the innocent act, already more than atoned for, of a boy for whose uprightness I would pledge my personal word."
"Oh, if you are willing to vouch for the boy's good behavior," said the judge, "I will put him on probation and reconsider the other sentences."
"I will accept the charge," said Shagarach.
Emily's heart leaped for joy, and Mrs. Riley could not be restrained from rushing forward and embracing Walter in rapture. But the most touching moment came when Walter walked over to Shagarach and, with tears in his eyes, but a stanch voice, said: "I want to show you I am grateful."