CHAPTER XXII.
DICK BIRCH’S SUGGESTION.
“Eugene, why doesn’t Dick Birch come here any now?” asked Julia, on the afternoon of Mary’s departure.
“He was here a dozen times a day when you were sickest.”
“He doesn’t come at all now.”
“Do you wish to see him, Julia?”
“Certainly I wish to see him. Dick was one of my best friends.”
“He is still.”
“He hasn’t even called upon me since I got better.”
“He explained himself to you the night before the examination of Ross Kingman.”
“You had some suspicions of him.”
“They were all removed the next day, Julia.”
“Why need he have said what he did about me in the court-room? It was town talk for a month.”
“He was under oath, and it was dragged out of him; but he didn’t say a word that betrayed a thought of yours, Julia.”
“There was not a thought of mine that he could betray,” said she, with some spirit. “I always liked Dick very well; but if he had any thoughts relating to me, he ought to have kept them to himself.”
“Dick is honest. He keeps back nothing.”
“I do not know that I blame him, if he was obliged to say what he did in the court; but it has placed me in a very awkward position. I could not walk on the same side of the street with him without exciting remark.”
“For this reason Dick has kept away from you, refusing even to see you.”
“Do you think he wants to see me?”
“Of course he does.”
“Why is he so fearful, then, of what people will say?”
“He is not, on his own account; only on yours.”
“He is very considerate,” replied Julia, rather ironically.
“He has too much regard for you even to subject you to any annoyance. For other reasons, too, he would keep away from you at the present time. He is to be examined to-morrow.”
“Eugene, can it be possible that we have been deceived in Dick?” asked Julia, with a look of painful anxiety on her pale face.
“No, it is not possible. I can never doubt Dick again. If the charge against him is proved to my satisfaction, I must believe it.”
“The evidence is very strong--is it not?”
“Yes, that cannot be denied. Just now, it is a question of veracity between Dick and Dr. Bilks, so far as we are concerned. If you believe one, you cannot believe the other. The doctor has sworn that he saw Dick on the Point Road that night; and Dick has sworn that he was at home, and in his own room.”
“What do you think, Eugene?”
“I do not know what to think, Julia. Since you have been sick, I have hardly given the matter a moment’s reflection. I have hoped that, by some means, both their statements might be reconciled; but this is not possible.”
“Perhaps it may be yet; for I cannot believe that either of them would perjure himself.”
“One thing is evident, Julia: either Dr. Bilks or Dick Birch is a most consummate scoundrel.”
“It would be terrible to believe that either was such. I cannot think that Dr. Bilks would be so base, so vile, as to swear falsely.”
“Can you believe that Dick would be?” asked Eugene, warmly.
“I cannot; but the evidence is very strong against him, and there is none at all against the doctor.”
“If Dr. Bilks can explain where he was on the night of the murder, and show me how the letter found upon Buckstone’s body happened to be written on his paper, I could not reasonably doubt his truthfulness.”
“He says Dick wrote the letter in his office; and he explains where he was that night.”
“So he does; but when we want Sandy McGuire and his wife, his two witnesses, they are gone. The doctor drew five thousand dollars about this time, which, no doubt, went into Sandy’s pocket; for that is the sum I offered the wretch for telling the truth.”
“Perhaps he can explain all this.”
“Until he does, I shall have my doubts.”
“Think what the doctor has done for me!” exclaimed Julia.
“I do think of it; and I am as grateful to him as you can be, Julia; but justice must be blind.”
“Poor Dick! I am afraid----”
“Don’t condemn Dick,” interposed Eugene. “He has been at work on this case from the beginning. The truth will come out in the end; and I am willing to wait, without prejudice to either.”
Eugene was disposed to be impartial between his two friends. Since Dr. Bilks had become the demigod of Pine Hill, it was as painful to doubt one as the other. To the doctor he owed his sister’s life; to Dick, the obligations of years of friendship. Who could decide between two men having such claims?
At the appointed time on the following morning, Eugene drove Dick over to Summerville. They paid a visit to Ross Kingman, in the jail, as they had often done before during his weary confinement. The prisoner was still comfortable and hopeful. He had ceased to believe that Birch was the person he had seen with Buckstone; for Dick’s denial of the fact was enough for him.
The examination commenced. Dick, with the assistance of Mr. Darling, conducted his own defence. Much of the testimony was the same that had been presented at the examination of Ross; but there were many new faces in the court-room. Hubbard swore that he believed the person he had seen with Buckstone was Mr. Birch. Dr. Bilks swore positively that the person was Mr. Birch. Then Dick opened his battery on the doctor, and dragged out the whole story about “Dr. Bilks’s baby” again; but the witness was easy and confident this time.
“Dr. Bilks, have you seen Sandy McGuire since you visited him on the day of Ross Kingman’s examination?” asked Dick.
“I have, several times.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Half an hour ago.”
“Where is he now?”
“Here, your ahnor!” shouted Sandy, from the crowd, to the great amusement of the court and the audience.
“My patient is also here,” added the doctor, blandly.
“Have you paid this man any money?”
“Divil a cint!” shouted Sandy, which called forth a reproof from the officers; and Sandy was compelled to repress himself.
“I have not,” replied Dr. Bilks.
“Did McGuire visit you on the day Buckstone’s body was found?”
“He did.”
“Did you draw any money from the bank that day?”
“I did; five thousand dollars.”
“What did you do with this money?”
“Paid this note with it,” replied Dr. Bilks, taking from his pocket-book a note from which the signature had been torn off.
The document was examined, and Dick felt that one of his strong points was slipping away from him.
“Is this note in your usual handwriting?”
“It is.”
“Where did you pay it?”
“In New York.”
It would be impossible to make any one believe that the doctor had not drawn the five thousand dollars from the bank for the purpose of paying his note in New York. The witness appeared to so much better advantage at this time than on the former occasion, that what he had lost then he more than regained now.
Experts were put upon the stand to testify in relation to the letter found upon the body of Buckstone. They pointed out in what respect it differed from Dick’s usual handwriting, and in what it resembled that of the doctor. They were satisfied that the body of the letter, and the superscription on the envelope, were written by different persons; but with all the points of difference, and all the points of resemblance, they were not sufficiently confident that the important letter was written either by Dick or by Dr. Bilks to establish anything. The evidence of the experts only created a doubt in the minds of the magistrate and the people; and partisans on both sides could ascribe the writing to whom they pleased. Nothing was settled.
The only thing that remained for the accused to do was to rebut the evidence of Dr. Bilks, if he could. The testimony of Sandy McGuire and the mother of “Dr. Bilks’s baby” had not yet been introduced--it was not relevant; but Dick called both of them, and examined them at great length. Sandy knew just a few facts, and to these he testified; but he was utterly oblivious of everything else. Either he was more devoted to the simple truth now than ever before, or he had been carefully trained to perform the part he acted so well. There were some discrepancies in his evidence, but they were slight. The mother of the baby was equally wise and prudent. What she knew was insignificant compared with what she did not know. She had an astonishingly bad memory of collateral facts. She had been unfortunate, she said; and she could not remember the name of the father of “Dr. Bilks’s baby” at first; and the magistrate would not permit Dick to press the matter.
Though Sandy and this woman were hardly regarded credible witnesses, they said nothing that absolutely injured Dr. Bilks. The magistrate--not the one who had occupied the bench at the examination of Ross Kingman--proceeded to review the testimony. It had been proved that Mr. Birch was with Buckstone just before the murder; but there was not a particle of evidence to show that he had been with him at the time of the murder, or that he concealed the body after the murder. Mr. Birch had desired to procure the re-marriage of the deceased with Mary Kingman. He had no motive in desiring the death of Buckstone, and no motive for concealing the body. If he had any selfish views, they would have been promoted by the living Buckstone, rather than by his death.
It was at least doubtful whether Mr. Birch wrote the letter found upon the body of the murdered man. If he did, it proved nothing except what was already granted. Dr. Bilks was not under examination, and the rebutting testimony or the doubtful witnesses need not be considered. So far as the doctor’s testimony was material, it was amply supported by the evidence of Hubbard, and the acknowledgments of Ross Kingman. There could be no doubt that Buckstone was accompanied to the island by a man. Granting that this man was Mr. Birch, was it proved that he mutilated and concealed the body, or that he even knew of the murder? Buckstone went eighty rods from the spot where he was seen with Mr. Birch, before he was killed. The accused may have crossed the channel at this time, landed where the boat was found, with his handkerchief and cigar.
On the morning after the murder, Mr. Birch appeared as usual, according to the testimony of Mr. Hungerford and Dr. Bilks. There was nothing unusual in his manner. He had always maintained a high character, and it was difficult to believe that such a man would resort to a measure so revolting as severing the head from a corpse, in order to conceal the crime of one in whom he appeared to have no especial interest. Why the head was removed does not appear, for all the papers, jewelry, and other articles, remained upon the body, and enabled the finders to identify it. The head would hardly have added any strength to the proof of identity. There was not a particle of evidence to show that Mr. Birch was present on the island, even at the time of the murder; and “_the prisoner is discharged_.”
The people generally were not satisfied with this decision. If Mr. Birch had not sunk the body, who had? Some thought the magistrate was unwilling to expose a brother lawyer to trial on such a charge; others, that he had eaten too many good dinners with Dick Birch and Mr. Hungerford; and still others, that he had been bribed to give this decision. If the result was not what was expected,--and it certainly was not,--it is more probable that the magistrate used his common sense, his knowledge of human nature, as well as the evidence spoken by witnesses. Whether he was right or wrong, the sequel will show to the satisfaction of the reader.
Without regard to the result of the examination, it was certain that Dick Birch had not gained anything in establishing his character for veracity and integrity. Though he was relieved from the terrors of the law, he was none the less guilty in the eyes of the people. He had not redeemed himself in the minds of even his best friends, who were still left in doubt and anxiety.
“Mr. Birch, I congratulate you!” exclaimed Dr. Bilks, rushing up to him, after the decision of the magistrate.
“Thank you; but why do you congratulate me?” replied Dick, languidly.
“Upon your escape. I knew it would be so. You have compelled me to defend myself, and I have done so; but I assure you, I have always regarded you as my friend, and I am rejoiced to find you relieved of this charge.”
“You are very kind; but I should have preferred to be committed for trial.”
“Why so?”
“Because the truth has not come out yet.”
“I am very sorry if it has not. My position from the beginning has been established. Of course I knew you were with Buckstone, but I was satisfied that it was for a good purpose.”
“Dr. Bilks, as I look at the result just reached, I am ruined.”
“Ruined?”
“My character is spoiled, though I may keep out of prison. If this were the end, I would go into obscurity, and never show my face among men again.”
“Nonsense, my dear fellow! You have been vindicated.”
“No; to-day has plunged me deeper than ever in the mire.”
“Mr. Birch, you made some heavy charges against me at one time. You told me to my face that I was the person with Buckstone,” said Dr. Bilks, with his heartiest laugh.
“I will not repeat the charge.”
“Do you still believe it?” demanded the doctor, who appeared to regard the charge as one of the pleasantest of jokes.
“It does not matter now.”
“Birch, let us be friends, as before. I am grateful to you for many kindnesses; and, whatever your opinion of me may be, I shall always hold you in the highest respect and esteem.”
Dick was silent. The court had adjourned, and they were almost alone in the room.
“Have I injured you, Birch?” demanded the doctor.
“You know best.”
“Let us be friends, Birch.”
“Doctor, that can never be. I shall treat you like a gentleman, but you and I can never be friends. I believe you are my enemy.”
“I am astonished, Mr. Birch!” exclaimed Dr. Bilks; and he looked astonished. “What have I done?”
“I need not tell you--I will not. Your words, the very sight of you is loathsome to me.”
“Why should it be so?”
“I believe that, under the guise of friendship for Mr. Hungerford and for me, you have endeavored to poison his mind; to set him against me,” replied Dick, with energy.
“Why should I, Mr. Birch?”
“That is best known to you.”
“Mr. Birch, I have been your friend in deed and in truth. I have never thrust myself in your friend’s way. I seldom saw him before the sickness of Julia. I have done what I could for her, and my professional duty to my patient required frequent visits.”
“You saved her life; and for that I am as grateful to you as her own family.”
“She is well--go and see her, Mr. Birch.”
“Never, until the stains are washed from my good name!”
“You judge yourself, as well as me, too harshly. Julia will be glad to see you.”
“You know that I love her, and you mock me.”
“Mock you, my dear fellow! I saved her from death for your sake.”
Dick’s face was red with anger. He had already spurned the doctor, who would not resent his words, and his professions of regard were repulsive to him. Although he could not prove it, although all the evidence was against him, Dick Birch could not help believing that the doctor was a villain, and that, sooner or later, a crash would come, when men would see him as he was. Dick tried to be politic, and treat the doctor as a friend, but his nature rebelled against the attempt. What he was, he appeared to be.
“Dr. Bilks, I think this conversation has been long enough,” added Dick, rising from his chair.
“Mr. Birch, you have played this game out, and you have lost. You are disappointed and morose. I am sorry for you; I compassionate your misfortunes; and I excuse your rude speech. Let me add, that I am still your friend; when you think better of this thing I shall be happy to see you; until then, I am your obedient servant.”
The doctor turned on his heel and walked away, not angry, apparently, but disappointed to find that the issue of the trial had not removed Dick’s unpleasant manner towards him. Eugene had gone to the hotel for his horse. When he returned to the court-house he found his friend in a very unamiable frame of mind.
“Dick, you are not satisfied,” said Hungerford, when they were seated in the buggy.
“I am not; I never was farther from being satisfied in my life,” replied Dick.
“You have been discharged.”
“Discharged!” exclaimed Birch, bitterly.
“You ought to be satisfied with the result, so far as it goes.”
“Are you satisfied with it?”
“I am.”
“Then you are not my friend.”
“I am your friend, and it is for this reason I am satisfied.”
“Am I not still a liar in the eyes of the people? Am I not liable to be arrested for perjury, at any moment?”
“There is no danger.”
“I do not fear an arrest. I do not care for that. Hungerford, can I be satisfied to be regarded as a liar and a perjurer?”
“Of course not.”
“Will you associate with one who stands before the community branded as a liar?”
“Don’t disturb yourself about me, Dick; I am still your friend.”
“If Dr. Bilks is not a scoundrel, I am!”
“Not at all. It is possible, it is probable, that both of you are honest and true men.”
“Impossible!”
“So far as you and the doctor differ, it is possible that he is mistaken.”
“Mistaken, Eugene Hungerford! Am I a fool, as well as a knave? Did Dr. Bilks write that letter to Buckstone, or did I write it?” demanded Dick, with something like fierceness in his tones and manner.
“No matter who wrote it.”
“It is matter. You cannot help believing that one of us is a villain. If I wrote it, I am no more worthy to look you in the face and call you my friend!”
“Dr. Bilks has rendered us a great service, Dick----”
“Do not remind me of that; I know it. I am as grateful to him for that as you are; but truth and justice come before even the life of the one we love best.”
“Must I condemn him?”
“Him or me! If you believe he did not write that letter, you must believe I did.”
“I will not decide.”
“I say I did not write it. There is no room for a mistake here. Do you believe me, Hungerford?”
“I do, Dick.”
“Then is Dr. Bilks condemned?”
“Not at all. A third person may have written it.”
“That is not possible.”
“Dick, you say the envelope was the one in which you sent your letter to Buckstone?”
“There is no doubt of it.”
“Where could Dr. Bilks have obtained it?”
“From the dead body of Buckstone.”
“That is absurd.”
“Dr. Bilks is the man who severed the head from the body, and sunk it in the channel,” said Dick, fiercely.
“Why should he have done this?”
“I don’t know. There is a mystery which I cannot fathom yet; but I will fathom it. I will probe this matter till the daylight shines through it in every direction.”
“I cannot believe that Dr. Bilks had anything to do with the murder, or with the body.”
“Dr. Bilks saved Julia’s life--God bless him for that! I ought not to ask you to decide between him and me,” added Dick, sadly.
“I hoped there would be peace now; that both of you would be content to wait till time should solve the mystery. Dr. Bilks expresses himself in the kindest terms towards you, Dick. He assured me, a week ago, that you would be discharged; and certainly no man could have been more gratified with the result to-day than he was.”
“He is a hypocrite. If he was gratified, it was only because the mark of Cain is upon me, and he asks nothing more for me.”
“You wrong him, Dick.”
“On my soul, I do not! He is a miserable, sneaking villain!”
“Come, Dick! This does not sound like you.”
“I speak only the truth; but forgive me, Hungerford; he is your friend.”
“He is,” replied Eugene, firmly.
Dick was silent. He felt that he was condemned. But he was considerate towards his friend. He realized that Eugene’s eyes were blinded by the services which Dr. Bilks had rendered his sister. He could not blame him--he did not.
“Hungerford, I submit with what resignation I can command to my fate. I shall leave Poppleton to-morrow.”
“Leave, Dick!”
“Yes, for a time--perhaps forever. I shall attend Ross Kingman’s trial, at Summerville.”
“Why should you leave?”
“Why should I stay? There is nothing more for me to do in Poppleton.”
“Attend to my affairs as usual.”
“Can you trust a liar, a perjurer?”
“You are unjust and unkind, Dick. You know I have no such opinion of you.”
“You cannot well avoid having such an opinion. I shall go, Hungerford; I shall return only when Dr. Bilks is sent to the state prison, or driven from the town. Whatever his purpose, he has accomplished it.”
Dick looked sharply into Eugene’s face.
“What purpose can he have?” demanded Eugene.
“Hungerford, what I am going to say will almost choke me, but I must say it;” and Dick actually trembled with emotion.
“What, Dick?” asked Eugene, as he drew up his horse before the Bell River House.
“Hungerford, don’t let Dr. Bilks marry Julia until you have seen the end of this matter. Good by, Hungerford;” and Dick Birch, after convulsively grasping the hand of his friend, leaped from the vehicle, and rushed into the hotel.
Eugene was paralyzed by the suggestion contained in these words. He looked at the door a moment, then turned his horse and drove towards Pine Hill. Dick was angry and excited; he was in no condition to speak calmly. It was best to leave him alone for a time. He would drive home and inform his mother and Julia of the result of the examination, and then return.
“Marry Dr. Bilks,” repeated he several times, as he drove towards Pine Hill. Had the doctor driven Dick from Julia’s presence for this purpose? He had been more than a physician to Julia--he was now, when she no longer needed his services as such. Dick’s words were suggestive, at least.