Gerald, in laying his case before his lawyer, did not mention Allison, or the fact that she had been present in the room during any portion of his interview with her father.
He really believed that she had not entered in season to overhear anything that had been said about the “doctored” accounts, and even if he had known that such was the case, it is doubtful if he could have brought himself to call upon her as a witness for him. The thought of dragging her into a criminal court, to have her name bandied about by newspaper reporters, was very repugnant to him. Besides, she had not shown the slightest interest in him, or sympathy for him in his trouble. He reasoned that she could not fail to know of it, since it had been widely chronicled in the papers, and her apparent indifference cut him to the quick, wounding his pride as well as his love, and thus a certain obstinacy took possession of him, and made him secretly vow that he would not appeal to her, even if he knew that her evidence would save him from serving a sentence in State prison.
The real facts of the case were, that during the first few days after her father’s death, Allison had been so prostrated with grief that it had been comparatively easy for John Hubbard to keep all newspapers from her, which he had taken special pains to do, as he did not care to have her know anything of Gerald’s trouble until it was too late for her to interest herself for him. He believed that he had played his cards so cleverly that his conviction was inevitable, and, once behind prison-bars, he believed the fair girl would never give him another thought.
The case was finally called on the Tuesday following Mr. Brewster’s burial. John Hubbard appeared against Gerald armed and equipped with the falsified books, the casket of jewels, and the other box, which had been carefully relocked, for the wily plotter had no intention of having its secrets disclosed at present—those he was reserving for later schemes in connection with Allison.
The evidence for the prosecution was presented, with all the eloquence and cunning of which the expert was master, and to every listener in the room the fate of Gerald appeared settled before he concluded.
There were very few witnesses for the prisoner. The servant who had admitted him to the Brewster mansion on the Saturday previous to his master’s death, swore to the fact, thus proving that he had been there, and Professor Emerson, on taking the stand, spoke eloquently and in the highest terms of his pupil, and emphatically asserted that he believed him to be above doing a mean or dishonest act. But, of course, all this proved nothing.
Gerald was then allowed to go upon the stand, and tell his own story, and the moment that he turned his frank, handsome face to the audience, when he met those critical, searching glances with his clear, honest eyes, and manly bearing, it was evident that he made a favorable impression upon every person in the room—excepting his sworn enemy. When he finally concluded, Hubbard demanded the production of the note from Mr. Brewster relating to “a special commission.”
“It cannot be found,” Mr. Arnold gravely responded. “Mr. Winchester left it in a pocket of his business-suit on Sunday, when he went to the bank to execute his employer’s commission. He has not been in his room since; but when I was authorized to go to his room to secure this note, it had mysteriously disappeared. Nevertheless, the fact that he went to Mr. Brewster’s residence on the date stated, and was admitted to the man’s presence, proves conclusively that he was sent for.”
“Not at all,” retorted the prosecuting-attorney, “any one might have called at the banker’s residence, requested an audience, and been admitted to his presence without a previous appointment. We are not asking opinions, your honor, we want evidence. You assert,” he added, turning to Gerald, “that Mr. Brewster gave you the keys to the bank and his private drawer in the vault. Will you state where he took them from before handing them to you?”
“From a drawer in the table beside him.”