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Master Hand

<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> <h3>THE TRIAL</h3> It was the morning of the day of the trial and I sat at my desk getting through some routine duties in an entirely perfunctory way prior to attending the opening of the court. It had been determined that I was not to participate in the conduct of the case in any way: indeed, there was little alternative left the District Attorney in the matter after I had explained to him the course I had been pursuing and my views on the subject. He had not appeared much surprised by my disclosures and was probably not unprepared for them, but he questioned me as to my opinions and I thought seemed not unimpressed. In any event he acquiesced in my request to be excused from participation and even added the assurance that Winters should have every opportunity of defence. At this moment, however, I did not feel confident. Look at the facts as I would, they presented very little to encourage. Nothing had changed since Littell and I had paid our visit to the Tombs. Nothing new had been discovered: indeed we had made little attempt in that direction, recognizing the almost certain futility of any effort in the limited time available, and in the meanwhile public opinion and the expression of the press had been crystallizing into an abiding conviction of the prisoner's guilt. I could not criticise the sentiment, for I recognized the strength of the State's case: and when I reviewed it, as I had done over and over again, it seemed all but conclusive even to me. The defence had absolutely nothing to present against an array of hard facts, but some ill-supported theories. It was a quarter to ten o'clock, and I put away the work I had been affecting to attend to, and took my way to the court-house. Only my official position gained me admission to the scene, and as it was, an officer had to make a passage for me through the crowd that had collected in and about the building. The Judge had not yet taken his place upon the bench, but the lawyers, clerks, bailiffs, and reporters were in their accustomed places within the rail which held back from the sacred precinct a throng of spectators so dense that it could not make room for one more. If one had been disposed for it, a lesson in the nether nature of man might have been studied in the faces of those pressing eagerly about the railing, alert with morbid curiosity. In the crowd were both men and women and others little more than children: many who had themselves figured in the prisoner's dock in that same court-room: many more who would be there, and all, or nearly all, of that waste class that make the criminals and the crimes of a great community. Littell sat at the table of the defence quietly observing the scene about him, very likely engaged with thoughts such as had suggested themselves to me: but his face wore a more serious expression than was habitual to it, and there was a look of self-reliance and determination in the brave eyes and about the firm mouth that inspired me again with some confidence. Winters had an able jurist and a dominating personality to guide his fortunes and I felt there was a chance for him even against the odds. At the table of the prosecution sat the District Attorney and the junior he had selected to assist him in my stead. They were good lawyers, and would handle their case well I knew, but the work they were to engage in was an old story to them,—a matter of almost daily routine,—and they would therefore lack the concentrated interest and the nervous force that attend upon the defence. There also, seated within the rail among the witnesses, were Van Bult, Davis, Belle Stanton, Mrs. Bunce, Miles, and Benton, and all the others that had already figured in the case. I felt a strong inclination to take my seat beside Littell, for that was where my sympathies led me, but with only a glance in his direction, I took the chair a bailiff pushed up for me to the table of the prosecution. Then a door opened and closed at one side of the room, and the crier in a brisk tone ordered "Hats off!" A moment later, as the Judge took his seat on the bench, the same voice intoned: "Oyez! Oyez! The court is now in session!" and then the bustle of business took possession of the scene. The Judge adjusted his collar and tried the points of some new pens; the lawyers sent the bailiffs hurrying for "authorities"; the clerks rustled the pages of their dockets, and the reporters sprawled over their table and scribbled copy. Next a whispered conversation took place between the District Attorney and the Judge, and a moment later, by the order of the clerk, the prisoner was brought out. All faces were turned in his direction: the crowd of spectators swaying as each one struggled for a passing glance. I looked at Winters as he was led in between two wardens. Fear was depicted in his face, and he shrank from the hostile and angry looks that met him on all sides as with lowered head and eyes he made his way to a place by his counsel. It was hard to conceive how the appearance of that broken man could fail to excite pity and there must have been some among the crowd who pitied him, even though they condemned: but the majority saw only a murderer and hated him. It was the manifestation of that unreasoning brute instinct to torture and kill dominant in the lower order of men, and which when encouraged by numbers and incited by the chance of a helpless victim, finds its active expression in a lynching. When Winters had taken his place, the clerk read the indictment on arraignment and then put the usual question: "Are you guilty or not guilty?" to which the answer, in a low voice, was, "Not guilty!" Next followed the selection of a jury. This task proved less difficult than usual in such cases, mainly because Littell showed no disposition to captious challenges, seeming only desirous of securing the services of intelligent men. In a little more than two hours therefore, the twelve men were in their places and had been sworn, and as I looked over the jury, I felt that Littell had obtained his object, for its personnel was above the average. The opening address of the junior for the State, which followed after a recess, was a clear and a concise statement of the facts, free from argument and dispassionate as it should be. Upon its conclusion the State proceeded to offer its testimony. Witness after witness was called in rapid succession. First the technical requirements of the case were established: the death of the deceased, the character of the wound, the nature of the instrument used, and then other similar formal details; and thus in categorical questions and answers that were uninteresting, but essential, the first day's proceedings drew to a close. During each examination Littell had been an attentive listener, but had portrayed no special concern and had rarely interrupted. He was too good a lawyer to lessen his prestige with the jury by indulging in aimless cross-questions of witnesses who had simply told the truth about undisputed facts. When he did cross-examine at all in such cases it was but briefly and with no attempt to break down the witness, but rather to develop more fully the facts and possibilities of the case, and the result of his questions in each instance had been to throw additional light upon the subject and to help the jury to its better understanding. After adjournment I stood with others an interested observer of a short conversation the lawyer was holding with his client. Whatever the substance of it might have been, it was such as to bring a smile to the face of the prisoner as he turned away with his guards to go back to his prison. Littell looked after him thoughtfully for a moment before he gathered together his papers and himself prepared to leave. As he did so I joined him, anticipating that we should have an evening in each other's society; but it was not to be, for I found him in a mood stern and taciturn and disinclined to talk about the case, and so after several ineffectual attempts at conversation I left him. My evening—spent alone therefore—was a dull one and the night long, and I was glad to find myself again at the trial table on the following morning. Here, all about me, the surroundings were unchanged in any way and it was hard to realize that there had been an interval of emptiness and silence within those walls. As soon as court opened the State called Benton to the stand, and then the real battle of the trial began. He presented a different subject for the handling of the defence, for he not only testified to important matters, but he was the first witness to show any bias, and Littell gave more marked attention to his testimony. Under lengthy examination the witness told his story to the smallest particular, including the tales he had brought to me about the visits of the defendant to White's house, his demands upon him for money, and his assertions of his right to the money left by his father, and he also threw out some hints of threats and quarrels—all tending as much by insinuation as fact to cast suspicion upon the prisoner. After the State had extracted all it could from him, he was turned over to Littell, and then the wisdom of that lawyer's previous course was demonstrated, for when, instead of waiving the witness from the stand or asking a few indifferent questions as he had done on other occasions, he turned and faced him preparatory to full cross-examination, both Judge and jury showed a newly awakened interest. Littell allowed a few minutes to elapse while he scrutinized the witness, before he put his first question, and it was apparent to me that the delay was trying to Benton, who was already in a nervous state, for he moved restlessly and directed his gaze anxiously to the lawyer. At length Littell began his cross-examination, and after taking him categorically over each item in his testimony, pinning him definitely in each instance as to time and place and separating fact from conjecture, he asked him pointedly if he had told the Coroner's jury as he had this one that Winters was in the habit of visiting White; or that he demanded money of him, or that he claimed White's money to have been by right his. The witness admitted that he had not told them any of these things. "Why did you not?" Littell continued. Benton seemed embarrassed, but at length said he supposed he had not done so because he did not think of them at the time. Littell waited patiently till the answer was forthcoming, and then continued: "Now tell the jury was not the real reason you did not tell these things at that time because it had not then occurred to you that suspicion would attach to Winters?" "Yes," he admitted, after some hesitation, "I expect that was the reason." "And," continued Littell, "when you found later that suspicion had attached to Winters, and that he was arrested for the murder, did you not then tell these things because you thought they would strengthen the case against him?" "Yes," he replied, "I think they are evidence against him." "And why should you wish to give evidence against him? Do you think him guilty?" was the next question. This was a little further than Benton was willing to go, and he answered that he did not know. "Well," said Littell; "let us see if we cannot find out what you really do know about it; you probably have more knowledge of the conditions surrounding the case than has any one else." And then, by further interrogation, he elicited the fact that the front door of the house was fastened and required a latch-key to open it when Benton arrived the morning of the murder, and also that while he had frequently admitted Winters to the house, he had never known him to possess a key to the premises. "And how, then, do you think he got in on this night?" Littell continued. Benton probably recalled his unsuccessful attempt to explain this problem to me on another occasion, for he made no effort to do so now, merely acknowledging lamely that he did not understand how he had obtained admission. "And yet," continued Littell, "you have said everything you could to the jury to make it appear that Winters was White's murderer." Benton did not attempt to answer this charge and seemed anxious to evade further questions, but Littell showed no disposition to let him off, but leaving his seat took his stand at Benton's elbow and continued his questions at close range, emphasizing each one: "As a matter of fact, don't you know, or at least are you not satisfied, that Winters had no key to White's house?" he asked. Accustomed to render obedience to Littell, and by this time thoroughly cowed, Benton was no longer capable of resistance, and assented obediently to the question. "And do you not know also," Littell continued, "that whoever secured access to White's room that night and killed him, had, in all probability, a key to the house?" and again Benton assented. "Then it hardly seems likely that Winters was that man, does it?" he concluded,—and the witness had nothing to answer. Littell next questioned him about White's habits and his relations with other men, and extracted the admission that for some time before his death White had seemed worried and had talked vaguely about some trouble and some person. "Do you know what that trouble was?" he was asked. "I do not," he answered. Littell hesitated as if doubtful of the expediency of pressing his questions further on this line, till the Judge, observing it, himself asked the witness if he knew who the person was; but the witness replied that he did not, adding, however, as an afterthought, that it might have been Winters. At this Littell took a vigorous hand again. "Do you believe it was Winters?" he asked sharply. "I don't know," he was answered evasively. "But was not Mr. White always very candid in speaking to you about Winters?" Littell insisted. "Yes," he replied; "he was." "Then if it had been Winters, do you not think he would have spoken of him by name?" and Littell's tone was almost angry. "Yes," Benton answered reluctantly. "Then you do not believe it was Winters?" Littell concluded. "No, I do not," he admitted finally. Next Littell secured from Miles the torn piece of a letter we had found in White's sitting-room, and with the consent of the State submitted it to the witness and had him read its broken sentences to the jury, and after he had done so, asked him if he had any idea to what it referred or for whom it was intended, but the witness denied any knowledge on the subject. The defence having concluded, the prosecution endeavored upon re-direct examination to restore the force of the direct testimony, but without much success; the damage was done, and the witness was no longer capable of assisting in its repair. Littell had scored, and that on the first occasion on which he had taken any serious part in the proceedings, and it must be, I thought, that the jury would now await his words with even increased interest. He continued sparing of them, however, permitting witness after witness—Van Bult and Davis among them—to leave the stand without cross-examination or with only a few casual questions. Nothing new was developed until Belle Stanton was cross-examined. Her direct testimony had been a mere repetition of that which she had given before the Coroner's jury, but Littell,—regardless of the strict limitations of cross-examination—directed his questions to the matter of White's supposed trouble, of which it seemed possible she might have some knowledge, and his course was justified by the results. She corroborated Benton's testimony as to White's disturbed mental condition and went so far as to testify that he cherished some bitter feeling towards some one. She said that this much she had learned from his own lips and was sure of, and also that his feeling in the matter was becoming daily more acute, but she denied having any knowledge of its cause, or of the identity of the person. She, too, when shown the letter, was unable to say for whom it was intended, but she expressed the opinion that its contents were suggestive of some of the things White had said when talking of his trouble. Nothing more definite than this could be obtained from her, as she disclaimed recollection of any exact words used by him, and said it was all only an impression she had gathered almost unconsciously from disconnected remarks which he had dropped at different times. "He had been drinking a good deal before his death," she added in explanation, "and was not always quite himself"; and Littell, having attained his object of enforcing upon the attention of the jury these apparent secrets in White's life, did not pursue the cross-examination further. I had looked for him to question her regarding the presence of the ulster at her house but he did not do so, and I concluded he was satisfied that it would be to no purpose. I was amused when Mrs. Bunce testified by the promptness with which she acted upon the advice given her by Miles; in her anxiety to do so even volunteering the information that she had found three fifty-dollar bills in the pocket of the ulster; otherwise her testimony did not differ from that formerly given. Littell, however, insisted upon knowing in what condition she found the money, upon which she said that it was carelessly stuffed in an outside pocket, and agreed to his further suggestion that part of it might readily have fallen out. Of the night-officer, when he had given his damaging testimony against the prisoner, Littell asked first if Winters had the ulster, or any bundle that could have contained it, when he saw him come out of the vestibule; to which the witness gave a positive negative. He then cross-examined him as to the reliability of his identification of the man he saw clad in the ulster as Arthur White. In reply to successive questions, it developed that the officer's observation of the man had been made from the opposite side of a dimly lighted street upon a dark night; that he wore the collar of the coat turned up and the vizor of the cap pulled down, that he was in the act of raising an umbrella, and that he walked rapidly, showing no signs of intoxication. The witness insisted, however, in spite of these facts and with every sign of sincerity, that he was confident of his identification, and it seemed very uncertain if much doubt as to it had been created with the jury. Detective Miles was the last witness to be called by the State. He was allowed to give his testimony in his own way, which he did conscientiously and in detail, neither omitting or coloring anything that could have bearing upon the case. He identified the torn letter which had been shown to Benton and Miss Stanton and told of its discovery in White's rooms. It being admitted that it was in the handwriting of White, it was put formally in evidence at the request of the defence, and was then submitted to the jurors among whom it was passed from hand to hand with evident interest. Littell, upon cross-examination, brought out the fact that the apparel, including the shoes, worn by White on the night of his death showed no evidence of exposure to the weather, and following it up by adroitly put questions as to the condition of his overshoes and umbrella, suggested the improbability of his having been out that night, and prepared the way for his theory that it had been some one else whom the officer had seen clad in the cap and ulster. Littell knew that he had a favorably disposed witness in Miles and made the most of the opportunity, but there was so little that the detective knew of his own knowledge that it was not of great advantage. Upon the conclusion of his evidence, the prosecution closed its testimony, and it being then late in the afternoon, the Judge, after consultation with the lawyers, adjourned court till the following day. After the adjournment I had opportunity to hear expressions of opinion from various members of the bar who had been spectators at the trial and who like myself lingered on the scene for awhile, and I found that while they all agreed that the prosecution had made out its case, there still existed a strong feeling of curiosity regarding the line of defence to be pursued. It was plain an alibi was out of the question, for while Winters's identification by the night-officer was not fully positive, the subsequent possession by him, on the night of the murder, of one of the missing bills confirmed its correctness beyond any possibility of reasonable dispute. It was the unanimous opinion, however, that some plausible explanation of his possession of that bill must be forthcoming if the defence entertained any hope of an acquittal, and there were many conjectures as to what the explanation was to be. I could not but be entertained, in spite of my perturbed state of mind, by the unconscious assumption on the part of all who joined in the discussion that the explanation when it should be forthcoming, would evidence in its ingenuity the cleverness of the defence. So confident was the general opinion of the prisoner's guilt, that it was not even suggested there might be a true explanation available, nor did it seem to occur to any one of them that Littell, with the high professional reputation he possessed, might be unwilling to endorse by his advocacy any other sort. Having accepted the case, they assumed apparently that he would make the most of it, whatever its character or merit might be. This mental attitude of prejudgment was calculated to work injustice to the defence, because, as I knew, Littell believed in the innocence of his client, and his evidence and his arguments would be conscientiously presented and would represent his convictions and should therefore be received with some measure of credence and respect. To anticipate in them but subterfuge and chicanery was eminently unfair and I felt disposed to take issue then and there with my brother lawyers; but when I reflected that after all it would be the jurors who would decide the case and not those about me I restrained my impulse and went my way in silence. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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