THE calling of the new witness provoked a burst of laughteramong the audience due partly, no doubt, to the strange name bywhich he had been summoned; partly, also, to the instinctivedesire of all crowded assemblies, when their interest ispainfully excited, to seize on any relief in the shape of thefirst subject of merriment which may present itself. A severerebuke from the Bench restored order among the audience. The LordJustice Clerk declared that he would "clear the Court" if theinterruption to the proceedings were renewed.

During the silence which followed this announcement the newwitness appeared.

Gliding, self-propelled in his chair on wheels, through theopening made for him among the crowd, a strange and startlingcreature--literally the half of a man--revealed himself to thegeneral view. A coverlet which had been thrown over his chair hadfallen off during his progress through the throng. The loss of itexposed to the public curiosity the head, the arms, and the trunkof a living human being: absolutely deprived of the lower limbs.To make this deformity all the more striking and all the moreterrible, the victim of it was--as to his face and his body--anunusually handsome and an unusually well-made man. His long silkyhair, of a bright and beautiful chestnut color, fell overshoulders that were the perfection of strength and grace. Hisface was bright with vivacity and intelligence. His large clearblue eyes and his long delicate white hands were like the eyesand hands of a beautiful woman. He would have looked effeminatebut for the manly proportions of his throat and chest, aided intheir effect by his flowing beard and long mustache, of a lighterchestnut shade than the color of his hair. Never had amagnificent head and body been more hopelessly ill-bestowed thanin this instance! Never had Nature committed a more careless or amore cruel mistake than in the making of this man!

He was sworn, seated, of course, in his chair. Having given hisname, he bowed to the Judges and requested their permission topreface his evidence with a word of explanation.

"People generally laugh when they first hear my strange Christianname," he said, in a low, clear, resonant voice which penetratedto the remotest corners of the Court. "I may inform the goodpeople here that many names, still common among us, have theirsignifications, and that mine is one of them. 'Alexander,' forinstance, means, in the Greek, 'a helper of men.' 'David' means,in Hebrew, 'well-beloved.' 'Francis' means, in German, 'free.' Myname, 'Miserrimus,' means, in Latin, 'most unhappy.' It was givento me by my father, in allusion to the deformity which you allsee--the deformity with which it was my misfortune to be born.You won't laugh at 'Miserrimus' again, will you?" He turned tothe Dean of Faculty, waiting to examine him for the defense. "Mr.Dean. I am at your service. I apologize for delaying, even for amoment, the proceedings of the Court."

He delivered his little address with perfect grace andgood-humor. Examined by the Dean, he gave his evidence clearly,without the slightest appearance of hesitation or reserve.

"I was staying at Gleninch as a guest in the house at the time ofMrs. Eustace Macallan's death," he began. "Doctor Jerome and Mr.Gale desired to see me at a private interview--the prisoner beingthen in a state of prostration which made it impossible for himto attend to his duties as master of the house. At this interviewthe two doctors astonished and horrified me by declaring thatMrs. Eustace Macallan had died poisoned. They left it to me tocommunicate the dreadful news to her husband, and they warned methat a post-mortem examination must be held on the body.

"If the Fiscal had seen my old friend when I communicated thedoctors' message, I doubt if he would have ventured to charge theprisoner with the murder of his wife. To my mind the charge wasnothing less than an outrage. I resisted the seizure of theprisoner's Diary and letters, animated by that feeling. Now thatthe Diary has been produced, I agree with the prisoner's motherin denying that it is fair evidence to bring against him. A Diary(when it extends beyond a bare record of facts and dates) isnothing but an expression of the poorest and weakest side in thecharacter of the person who keeps it. It is, in nine cases out often, the more or less contemptible outpouring of vanity andconceit which the writer dare not exhibit to any mortal buthimself. I am the prisoner's oldest friend. I solemnly declarethat I never knew he could write downright nonsense until I heardhis Diary read in this Court!

"_He_ kill his wife! _He_ treat his wife with neglect andcruelty! I venture to say, from twenty years' experience of him,that there is no man in this assembly who is constitutionallymore incapable of crime and more incapable of cruelty than theman who stands at the Bar. While I am about it, I go furtherstill. I even doubt whether a man capable of crime and capable ofcruelty could have found it in his heart to do evil to the womanwhose untimely death is the subject of this inquiry.

"I have heard what the ignorant and prejudiced nurse, ChristinaOrmsay, has said of the deceased lady. From my own personalobservation, I contradict every word of it. Mrs. EustaceMacallan--granting her personal defects--was nevertheless one ofthe most charming women I ever met with. She was highly bred, inthe best sense of the word. I never saw in any other person sosweet a smile as hers, or such grace and beauty of movement ashers. If you liked music, she sang beautifully; and few professedmusicians had such a touch on the piano as hers. If you preferredtalking, I never yet met with the man (or even the woman, whichis saying a great deal more) whom her conversation could notcharm. To say that such a wife as this could be first cruellyneglected, and then barbarously murdered, by the man--no! by themartyr--who stands there, is to tell me that the sun never shinesat noonday, or that the heaven is not above the earth.

"Oh yes! I know that the letters of her friends show that shewrote to them in bitter complaint of her husband's conduct toher. But remember what one of those friends (the wisest and thebest of them) says in reply. 'I own to thinking,' she writes,'that your sensitive nature exaggeratesor misinterprets the neglect that you experience at the hands ofyour husband.' There, in that one sentence, is the whole truth!Mrs. Eustace Macallan's nature was the imaginative,self-tormenting nature of a poet. No mortal love could ever havebeen refined enough for _her._ Trifles which women of a coarsermoral fiber would have passed over without notice, were causes ofdownright agony to that exquisitely sensitive temperament. Thereare persons born to be unhappy. That poor lady was one of them.When I have said this, I have said all.

"No! There is one word more still to be added.

"It may be as well to remind the prosecution that Mrs. EustaceMacallan's death was in the pecuniary sense a serious loss to herhusband. He had insisted on having the whole of her fortunesettled on herself, and on her relatives after her, when hemarried. Her income from that fortune helped to keep in splendorthe house and grounds at Gleninch. The prisoner's own resources(aided even by his mother's jointure) were quite inadequate fitlyto defray the expenses of living at his splendid country-seat.Knowing all the circumstances, I can positively assert that thewife's death has deprived the husband of two-thirds of hisincome. And the prosecution, viewing him as the basest andcruelest of men, declares that he deliberately killed her--withall his pecuniary interests pointing to the preservation of herlife!

"It is useless to ask me whether I noticed anything in theconduct of the prisoner and Mrs. Beauly which might justify awife's jealousy. I never observed Mrs. Beauly with any attention,and I never encouraged the prisoner in talking to me about her.He was a general admirer of pretty women--so far as I know, in aperfectly innocent way. That he could prefer Mrs. Beauly to hiswife is inconceivable to me, unless he were out of his senses. Inever had any reason to believe that he was out of his senses.

"As to the question of the arsenic--I mean the question oftracing that poison to the possession of Mrs. Eustace Macallan--Iam able to give evidence which may, perhaps, be worthy of theattention of the Court.

"I was present in the Fiscal's office during the examination ofthe papers, and of the other objects discovered at Gleninch. Thedressing-case belonging to the deceased lady was shown to meafter its contents had been officially investigated by the Fiscalhimself. I happen to have a very sensitive sense of touch. Inhandling the lid of the dressing-case, on the inner side I feltsomething at a certain place which induced me to examine thewhole structure of the lid very carefully. The result was thediscovery of a private repository concealed in the space betweenthe outer wood and the lining. In that repository I found thebottle which I now produce."

The further examination of the witness was suspended while thehidden bottle was compared with the bottles properly belonging tothe dressing-case.

These last were of the finest cut glass, and of a very elegantform--entirely unlike the bottle found in the private repository,which was of the commonest manufacture, and of the shapeordinarily in use among chemists. Not a drop of liquid, not thesmallest atom of any solid substance, remained in it. No smellexhaled from it--and, more unfortunately still for the interestsof the defense, no label was found attached to the bottle when ithad been discovered.

The chemist who had sold the second supply of arsenic to theprisoner was recalled and examined. He declared that the bottlewas exactly like the bottle in which he had placed the arsenic.It was, however, equally like hundreds of other bottles in hisshop. In the absence of the label (on which he had himselfwritten the word "Poison"), it was impossible for him to identifythe bottle. The dressing-case and the deceased lady's bedroom hadbeen vainly searched for the chemist's missing label--on thechance that it might have become accidentally detached from themysterious empty bottle. In both instances the search had beenwithout result. Morally, it was a fair conclusion that this mightbe really the bottle which had contained the poison. Legally,there was not the slightest proof of it.

Thus ended the last effort of the defense to trace the arsenicpurchased by the prisoner to the possession of his wife. The bookrelating the practices of the Styrian peasantry (found in thedeceased lady's room) had been produced But could the book provethat she had asked her husband to buy arsenic for her? Thecrumpled paper, with the grains of powder left in it, had beenidentified by the chemist, and had been declared to containgrains of arsenic. But where was the proof that Mrs. EustaceMacallan's hand had placed the packet in the cabinet, and hademptied it of its contents? No direct evidence anywhere! Nothingbut conjecture!

The renewed examination of Miserrimus Dexter touched on mattersof no general interest. The cross-examination resolved itself, insubstance, into a mental trial of strength between the witnessand the Lord Advocate; the struggle terminating (according to thegeneral opinion) in favor of the witness. One question and oneanswer only I will repeat here. They appeared to me to be ofserious importance to the object that I had in view in readingthe Trial.

"I believe, Mr. Dexter," the Lord Advocate remarked, in his mostironical manner, "that you have a theory of your own, which makesthe death of Mrs. Eustace Macallan no mystery to _you?_"

"I may have my own ideas on that subject, as on other subjects,"the witness replied. "But let me ask their lordships, the Judges:Am I here to declare theories or to state facts?"

I made a note of that answer. Mr. Dexter's "ideas" were the ideasof a true friend to my husband, and of a man of far more thanaverage ability. They might be of inestimable value to me in thecoming time--if I could prevail on him to communicate them.

I may mention, while I am writing on the subject, that I added tothis first note a second, containing an observation of my own. Inalluding to Mrs. Beauly, while he was giving his evidence, Mr.Dexter had spoken of her so slightingly--so rudely, I mightalmost say--as to suggest he had some strong private reasons fordisliking (perhaps for distrusting) this lady. Here, again, itmight be of vital importance to me to see Mr. Dexter, and toclear up, if I could, what the dignity of the Court had passedover without notice.

The last witness had been now examined. The chair on wheelsglided away with the half-man in it, and was lost in a distantcorner of the Court. The Lord Advocate rose to address the Juryfor the prosecution.

I do not scruple to say that I never read anything so infamous asthis great lawyer's speech. He was not ashamed to declare, atstarting, that he firmly believed the prisoner to be guilty. Whatright had he to say anything of the sort? Was it for _him_ todecide? Was he the Judge and Jury both, I should like to know?Having begun by condemning the prisoner on his own authority, theLord Advocate proceeded to pervert the most innocent actions ofthat unhappy man so as to give them as vile an aspect aspossible. Thus: When Eustace kissed his poor wife's forehead onher death-bed, he did it to create a favorable impression in theminds of the doctor and the nurse! Again, when his grief underhis bereavement completely overwhelmed him, he was triumphing insecret, and acting a part! If you looked into his heart, youwould see there a diabolical hatred for his wife and aninfatuated passion for Mrs. Beauly! In everything he had said hehad lied; in everything he had done he had acted like a craftyand heartless wretch! So the chief counsel for the prosecutionspoke of the prisoner, standing helpless before him at the Bar.In my husband's place, if I could have done nothing more, I wouldhave thrown something at his head. As it was, I tore the pageswhich contained the speech for the prosecution out of the Reportand trampled them under my feet--and felt all the better too forhaving done it. At the same time I feel a little ashamed ofhaving revenged myself on the harmless printed leaves n ow.

The fifth day of the Trial opened with the speech for thedefense. Ah, what a contrast to the infamies uttered by the LordAdvocate was the grand burst of eloquence by the Dean of Faculty,speaking on my husband's side!

This illustrious lawyer struck the right note at starting.

"I yield to no one," he began, "in the pity I feel for the wife.But I say, the martyr in this case, from first to last, is thehusband. Whatever the poor woman may have endured, that unhappyman at the Bar has suffered, and is now suffering, more. If hehad not been the kindest of men, the most docile and most devotedof husbands, he would never have occupied his present dreadfulsituation. A man of a meaner and harder nature would have feltsuspicions of his wife's motives when she asked him to buypoison--would have seen through the wretchedly commonplaceexcuses she made for wanting it--and would have wisely andcruelly said, 'No.' The prisoner is not that sort of man. He istoo good to his wife, too innocent of any evil thought towardher, or toward any one, to foresee the inconveniences and thedangers to which his fatal compliance may expose him. And what isthe result? He stands there, branded as a murderer, because hewas too high-minded and too honorable to suspect his wife."

Speaking thus of the husband, the Dean was just as eloquent andjust as unanswerable when he came to speak of the wife.

"The Lord Advocate," he said, "has asked, with the bitter ironyfor which he is celebrated at the Scottish Bar, why we havefailed entirely to prove that the prisoner placed the two packetsof poison in the possession of his wife. I say, in answer, wehave proved, first, that the wife was passionately attached tothe husband; secondly, that she felt bitterly the defects in herpersonal appearance, and especially the defects in hercomplexion; and, thirdly, that she was informed of arsenic as asupposed remedy for those defects, taken internally. To men whoknow anything of human nature, there is proof enough. Does mylearned friend actually suppose that women are in the habit ofmentioning the secret artifices and applications by which theyimprove their personal appearance? Is it in his experience of thesex that a woman who is eagerly bent on making herself attractiveto a man would tell that man, or tell anybody else who mightcommunicate with him, that the charm by which she hoped to winhis heart--say the charm of a pretty complexion--had beenartificially acquired by the perilous use of a deadly poison? Thebare idea of such a thing is absurd. Of course nobody ever heardMrs. Eustace Macallan speak of arsenic. Of course nobody eversurprised her in the act of taking arsenic. It is in the evidencethat she would not even confide her intention to try the poisonto the friends who had told her of it as a remedy, and who hadgot her the book. She actually begged them to consider theirbrief conversation on the subject as strictly private. From firstto last, poor creature, she kept her secret; just as she wouldhave kept her secret if she had worn false hair, or if she hadbeen indebted to the dentist for her teeth. And there you see herhusband, in peril of his life, because a woman acted _like_ awoman--as your wives, gentlemen of the Jury, would, in a similarposition, act toward You."

After such glorious oratory as this (I wish I had room to quotemore of it!), the next, and last, speech delivered at theTrial--that is to say, the Charge of the Judge to the Jury--isdreary reading indeed.

His lordship first told the Jury that they could not expect tohave direct evidence of the poisoning. Such evidence hardly everoccurred in cases of poisoning. They must be satisfied with thebest circumstantial evidence. All quite true, I dare say. But,having told the Jury they might accept circumstantial evidence,he turned back again on his own words, and warned them againstbeing too ready to trust it! "You must have evidence satisfactoryand convincing to your own minds," he said, "in which you find noconjectures--but only irresistible and just inferences." Who isto decide what is a just inference? And what is circumstantialevidence _but_ conjecture?

After this specimen, I need give no further extracts from thesumming up. The Jury, thoroughly bewildered no doubt, took refugein a compromise. They occupied an hour in considering anddebating among themselves in their own room. (A jury of womenwould not have taken a minute!) Then they returned into Court,and gave their timid and trimming Scotch Verdict in these words:

"Not Proven."

Some slight applause followed among the audience, which wasinstantly checked. The prisoner was dismissed from the Bar. Heslowly retired, like a man in deep grief: his head sunk on hisbreast--not looking at any one, and not replying when his friendsspoke to him. He knew, poor fellow, the slur that the Verdictleft on him. "We don't say you are innocent of the crime chargedagainst you; we only say there is not evidence enough to convictyou." In that lame and impotent conclusion the proceedings endedat the time. And there they would have remained for all time--butfor Me.