When the Sea Gives Up Its Dead: A Thrilling Detective Story

by Mrs. George Corbett

Nevertheless, on the day of the trial Annie watched the progress of events with the keenest anxiety, and her distress of mind worried her friends considerably. Suppose her hopes were destined to be blighted, after all? Suppose the evidence at command should not prove enough, even yet, to bring about a reversal of the sentence which had weighed upon Harley for months? It was no wonder that she looked anxious, or that she was oblivious of everything but the actual progress of the trial. She was well supported by friends, who lavished every attention upon her that could be spared from the dear, sweet-faced old lady, to whom this day was of such awful moment. They had all tried to persuade Mrs. Riddell to remain at home, fearing that the excitement might be too much for her.

Their persuasions were most kindly meant. But the firmness with which they were resisted convinced them that they were also ill-judged. One of Mrs. Riddell’s sons was to have his fate decided that day—either as a free man, or as a confirmed felon. And two men were to be arraigned for depriving her of her other son. It would be dreadful to look upon that son’s murderers. But it would be intolerable anguish to remain at home in ignorance of what was being done.

Captain Cochrane and Hugh Stavanger both looked round with a feeble assumption of confidence when they were brought into the dock. But there were very few sympathetic looks to be seen on the sea of faces at which they gazed, and their eyes soon sought the ground, the one scowling angrily, and the other looking abjectly miserable.

No expense had been spared that could help to prove Harley innocent of the diamond robbery, even the Maltese jeweller being to the fore. Harley Riddell himself was strongly cross-examined, and his worn, haggard appearance caused his fond mother and faithful sweetheart some additional sorrow. But as the trial progressed, excitement lent a colour to his cheeks and a brightness to his eyes which showed his friends how soon he would recover his former vigour when free, and proved to strangers how handsome he was likely to appear when happy.

The prisoners were on their trial, the one for the diamond-robbery, and the other for being accessory after the fact. On the morrow they were to take their trial for the suspected murder of Hilton Riddell. Somehow, however, the proofs which had been deemed so overwhelming by Harley’s friends, did not appear as if they were going to be sufficient to compass the conviction of Hugh Stavanger for the robbery. There was plenty of proof that he had had a great many diamonds in his possession, and his evident desire to evade observation argued guilt on his part. But there was no one who could or would prove that the jewels in Hugh Stavanger’s possession were the jewels that had been stolen. Both his father and his uncle had suddenly disappeared, and their evidence was unavailable. This disappearance confirmed everybody’s moral conviction that Hugh Stavanger was guilty.

But moral conviction is not proof, and without proof no man may be judged. Accused’s counsel began to be very hopeful. Presumably everything would have turned upon Hilton Riddell’s evidence, and, curiously enough, the lack of evidence was likely not merely to fail in proving Stavanger’s guilt, but to be the actual means of proving his innocence. It was fully explained why he had joined the “Merry Maid.” But although he might have gained important evidence, he had not returned with it, and was, therefore, useless as a witness. It being impossible to prove that Mr. Hilton Riddell was possessed of any information likely to be detrimental to Mr. Hugh Stavanger or to Captain Cochrane, it naturally followed that a motive for his supposed murder was wanting. Given no motive, only absolute proof that the men had been seen to commit the murder would be sufficient to secure their committal upon the capital charge, and though all the world felt morally convinced of their guilt, the men had capital counsel who knew, none better, how to make black look like white, and whose professional reputation was staked upon the winning of such a desperate looking case.

There was also a certain judge on the bench with whom the words “justice” and “moral conviction” became obsolete terms as soon as he entered upon the study of “law.” He also prided himself upon his ability to enforce the dictates of law in all their naked severity, in spite of all the clamourings of public opinion. Nay, public opinion was his especial bugbear, and his judicial eye always rested with particular disfavour upon anyone unfortunate enough to be deemed a popular favourite. He had read all about Annie’s adventures, and had at once dubbed her in his own mind an unwomanly schemer. He didn’t like unwomanly women. They set a bad example to others. Therefore an example must be made of them, and they must be shown that the dictum of one of her Majesty’s judges cannot be lightly upset. Poor man! He was but human, and he could hardly be expected to view with favour an attempt to upset the judgment he had himself given when Harley Riddell was tried for the diamond robbery. Do not mistake me, dear reader, our noble judge would sacrifice his own private feelings if law bade him do so. But law must be paramount, and if law was ever doubtful, it must always consider itself opposed to sentimentalism and unwarranted interference.

Thus it happened that, by the enforcement of this enactment or of that, all the cherished proofs of Harley’s innocence and Hugh Stavanger’s guilt were ruthlessly torn to shreds, and more than one heart was turning sick with disappointment, when a strange commotion was heard among the crowd of people at the entrance of the court. There were loud cries of “Silence in Court.” But these cries were unheeded. Indeed, the commotion waxed louder and became momentarily more irrepressible, as a man pushed his way through the crowd, while his name flew before him.

It was Hilton Riddell!

Hilton Riddell was that day a name to conjure with, and even the judge himself permitted his mind to entertain emotions that were not strictly of a legal tendency. But how describe the joy and delight of the mother who had pictured him lying dead at the bottom of the sea? Of the brother who thought that for his sake he had perished? Of the friends who now saw light ahead for Harley? Or the dismay of the two scoundrels who, though they were freed from the weight of bloodguiltiness, yet saw condemnation in store for them as the result of the evidence of this man, who had been given up by the sea for their undoing?