"I'm informed he tried to give it back to her this morning," said Benito. "But she wouldn't take it. Made a scene and held him to his honor." He laughed.
Cora's trial dragged itself into the following January on the slow feet of countless technicalities. Every legal subterfuge was exhausted by the quartet of talented and high-priced attorneys provided by Belle Cora's questionable fortune but unquestioned affection. The trial proved a feast of oratory, a mass of contradictory evidence. Before it began a juror named Jacob Mayer accused L. Sokalasky with offering him a bribe. Sokalasky, brought into court, denied the charge. And there it ended, save that thenceforth the "twelve good men and true" were exiled even from their families by the order of Judge Hagar. None the less it seemed quite evident as a morning paper cynically remarked, that the stable had been locked after the horses were stolen.
On January 17 the Cora jury announced its inability to agree. The trial ended minus a conviction.
Ned McGowan, James P. Casey, Sheriff Scannell and his aid, Billy Mulligan, had frequent conferences in the offices of Casey's Sunday Times. Broderick held more or less aloof from his political subordinates these troublous days. But Charley Duane, former chief engineer of the fire department, was their frequent consort. The Sunday Times concentrated its fire chiefly on James King of William. It was his biting, unstudied verbiage that struck "The Federal Brigade" on the raw.
Early in May the Times accused Thomas King, the Bulletin editor's brother, of scheming by illegal means to gain the office that Richardson's death had left vacant.
To this imputation, the Bulletin made a sharp reply. Among other items calculated to enrage his foe appeared the following:
"The fact that Casey has been an inmate of Sing Sing prison in New York is no offense against the laws of this State; nor is the fact of his having stuffed himself through the ballot box, as elected to the Board of Supervisors from a district where it is said he was not even a candidate, any justification why Mr. Bagley should shoot Casey, however richly he may deserve having his neck stretched for such fraud upon the people...."
There was more, but this was all that Casey read. He tore the paper into shreds and stamped upon it, inarticulate with fury. When at last he found his tongue a flood of obscenities flowed. He drew a pistol from his pocket; brandishing the weapon, he reached for the door knob. But Doane, who had brought the paper, caught his arm.