He had been such a lawyer, and when he had applied for life insurance he had been adjudged a prohibitive risk. To-day the career of three decades was to end, and as the bell in the teetering cupola began to clang its summons he shook his head—and pressed tight the straight lips that slashed his rugged face.
On the bench sat the circuit-riding judge of that district; a man to whom, save when he addressed him as “your honor,” Dyke Cappeze had not spoken in three years. They were implacable enemies, because 61 too often the lawyer had complained that justice waited here on expediency.
Cappeze looked at the windows bleared with their residue of dust and out through them at the hills mantling to an autumnal glory. Then he heard that suave—to himself he said hypocritical—voice from the bench.
“Gentlemen of the bar, any motions?”
Wearily the thin, tall-framed lawyer came to his feet and stood erect and silent for a moment in his long, black coat, corroding into the green of dilapidation.
“May it please your honor,” he grimly declared. “I hardly know whether my statement may be properly called a motion or not. It’s more a valedictory.”
He drew from his breast pocket a bit of coarse, lined writing paper and waved it in his talon-like hand.
“I was retained by the widow Sales, whose husband was shot down by Sam Mosebury, to assist the prosecution in bringing the assassin to punishment. The grand jury has failed to indict this defendant. The sheriff has failed to arrest him. The court has failed to produce those witnesses whom I have subpœnaed. The machinery of the law which is created for the sole purpose of protecting the weak against the encroachments of the malevolent has failed.”
He paused, and through the crowded room the shuffling feet fell silent and heads bent excitedly forward. Then Cappeze lifted the paper in his hand and went on:
“I hold here an unsigned letter that threatens me with death if I persist with this prosecution. It came to me two weeks ago, and since receiving it I have redoubled 62 my energy. When this grand jury was impaneled and charged, such a note also reached each of its members. I know not what temper of soul actuates those men who have sworn to perform the duties of grand jurors. I know not whether these threats have affected their deliberations, but I know that they have failed to return a true bill against Sam Mosebury!”