The Day of Judgment

by Joseph Hocking

"I see George Preston is over there. He looks pale, does George. It must be an awful blow to him!"

"Dost believe Stepaside did it?"

"I don't know. I never thought him to be that sort of chap; but then, you know, he and Ned Wilson have been at it for years."

"I can't see that the motive is sufficient," said another. "What motive had he for killing Ned Wilson? Here he wur in Parliament, and making a name for hissen. Is it likely that for a bit of spite he'd kill a chap in that way? Besides, he's fair clever, is Stepaside. Would he be such a fooil as to kill him wi' a knife as was known to be his own?"

"No; but when a man is in a passion he thinks o' nowt. He just becomes like a savage. And Paul always had a bit of a temper."

"Ay, but he were a quiet chap, too, and he must ha' known that he'd ha' been suspected. I can't believe that he would be such a fooil—and yet, as tha ses, nobody knows."

At length the proper business of the inquest commenced. The coroner, who was a local doctor, sat grave and disturbed. He knew Paul well, and the two had often fought side by side on public questions. The jurymen, too, although they in a way enjoyed their position, were sad at heart. Nearly every one of them knew Paul and respected him. It was terrible to them to see him before them there as a prisoner, and yet they could not help admiring him. He was carefully dressed, and he had seen to it that his clothes were brushed, and that his linen was spotless. Not by a tremor of his lips or by the movement of a muscle did he show what he felt. Pale, haughty, calm, dignified, he stood before them as though he were a mere spectator of a scene which he despised.

The case was taken in the ordinary way. The first to give evidence was old Mr. Edward Wilson, the father of the murdered man. Even Paul almost pitied him as he saw him. His face was haggard and drawn. He who had been usually so florid looked as pale as ashes. His cheeks were baggy and his voice was unnatural. He identified the murdered man as his son. He confessed to his having returned that night after his quarrel with Paul, when he had seemed much disturbed. Two letters awaited him, both of which he had read and then destroyed by throwing them into the fire. About nine o'clock he went out, saying that he was going to his club. Since that time he had never been seen alive. Where he had gone he could not tell; certain it is he never came home again. He told of the feud which had existed between his son and Paul Stepaside. He knew that Paul hated the murdered man with an intense hatred, and had been known on many occasions to threaten him with violence. He adhered strictly to the truth, and yet that truth was so coloured by his own feelings and prejudices that it was evident he had no doubt about who killed his son. He enlarged upon the fact that, as far as he knew, his son had not a single enemy in the world besides Paul Stepaside, and certainly no other had a sufficient motive to murder him.

After this came the statement of the policeman. He had been walking on his beat about seven o'clock, and had seen the body of a dead man lying in a lane not far from Howden Clough. He quickly identified it as that of Mr. Edward Wilson. He described the position in which it lay. He told of the knife which was driven through the body. He immediately reported the matter to his superiors, whereupon the usual steps were taken. A doctor was summoned, who had made an examination, and so forth.

After the constable's statement the doctor gave his evidence. He had no doubt as to the cause of death. He had died as a result of a knife that was driven through his heart. The blow was struck from behind. As far as he could judge, Mr. Edward Wilson had been murdered between half-past four and five that same morning. While the doctor was speaking there was a deathly silence in the room. It seemed as though there were another nail driven into the scaffold on which Paul Stepaside was to hang. Up to now Paul's name had been seldom mentioned, and yet his was the personality which dominated everything. Eyes were constantly turned towards him. Whispered remarks were often heard concerning him. All that the magistrates had asked at their meeting was remembered. The story of the past became vivid again.