Democratic Sentinel, Volume 4, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 August 1880 — LAW AND LEGERDEMAIN. [ARTICLE]

LAW AND LEGERDEMAIN.

BY AN OLD LAWYER.

The incident I nm about to relate occurred twenty years ago in Pennsylvania. The little village of S , in our county, had acquired a population of severai hundred ; it had a store, a postoffice, two churches, a sclioolhouse, and several shops. The people of that quiet little hamlet were prosperous and happy ; yes, happy in their ignorance of what was necessary for their own welfare and the public good. For so strangely benighted were they that, as yet, they had no licensed hotel to spread its legalized blessings around, as the deadly pestilential dew falls on some of the countries of the burning zone. Foxyears this little village had nestled among the fertile fields of Western Pennsylvania, and, so far as the records of our criminal court showed,, its existence was unknown at tlio county seat, for no criminal case had ever been “ sent up ” from its low-abiding precincts. But tlio march of improvement and Christian enlightenment is ever onward and upward. There came an enterpx-ising man, and, unfortunately for the little village, he was a man of “ good moral character,” aftd therefore a fit recipient for the favors of the court. He proposed to purchase a corner-lot in the place, and erect thereon a fiue hotel. The good, staid, and sober old burghers of the town were in ecstasies over the contemplated great improvement; it was just what was wanted to make S an embryonic New York, and the price of village lots went up with a bound. Time passed on ; the hotel was completed, furnished, and was to be opened on the 22d day of February. An application had been made for a license, and, if it was granted, the proprietor proposed to give a grand free ball on the night of the opening, at which time the well-stocked bar was to be so free that those who attended could sin without money and without price, he well knowing that the seed thus sown would in time yield him an abundant harvest, though the gathering might leave behind the barren stubble-field of drunkenness and crime. Of course the license was granted. The proprietor was, as I have said, unfortunately a man of good moral character and temperate habits. Deacon A., of the Baptist church ; class-leader B, of tlio Methodist church; Elder C, of the U. P. church ; Doctor D, ’Squire E, and a number of lesser lights of the society of the village signed the certificate of the proprietor’s good character, believing that ail that was required to make the little town happy and prosperous the rest of their days was a legalized place to commence to manufacture drunkards, and, as it was the only manufaclui-ing establishment of any kind in that section of the country,' all were ovex-joved when the news came that the glorious prerogative to sell whisky was gi-anted to the propi-ietor of the “United States Hotel” at S—-—. Time, bearing in its womb the futxxre joys and sorrows of men, moved on; the 22d day of February came at last, and all the lads and lasses for miles aroxind were there. The bar was open aixd free —and. There was a Bound of revelry by night.

There was a row in the bar-room ; free whisky had ended in a free fight, as usual, and one Henry D., the son of a widow, who lived a mile or two from the place, had, in a fit of drunken frenzy, with liis naked hands struck a stand of glasses that stood on the counter and dashed tl. em on the floor. The broken glass had cut his hand severely. One of his companions, William W., had taken from Henry’s pocket a white silk pocket-handkerchief, and, wrapping it around his bleeding hand, tied the corner ends together. The young man left the hotel with several others, and was at homo in the morning, but he was so drunk that he forgot the important fact that he had taken a young lady to the dance until he was reminded of it in a somewhat emphatic manner by the young lady herself the next day, she being at that time an inmate of his mother’s house. William W., who tied the handkerchief around Henry’s bleeding hand, was the owner of a small store that stood near the canal. His stock of goods consisted of coarse clothing, usually worn by boatmen, and a general assortment of boat supplies. He was a man of low associations and bad repute. His store was the nightly resort of boatmen and roughs, who live along the Avater thoroughfares of the country, and those ladies who do the “cuisine” on board the floating palaces of our canals. That night William was at the dance until nearly daylight. In the morning he discovered that his store had been entered by burglars through a window in the rear, the thieves breaking a light of glass for that purpose. A quantity of goods had been stolen, mostly rough clothing, boots and shoes; but, as he alleged, of the value of over S2OO. No trace of the burglars was found. Time passed on until the month of June, when some men who were removing the hay from an old hay-barn that stood in a meadow near by, found concealed under it the stolen goods, tied up in a large, coarse woolen shawl. On opening the bundle, among the goods was found the handkerchief of Henry D., that had been wrapped around the bleeding hand. It was spotted with blood, and still remained in a coil, just as the hand had been withdrawn, leaving the very impress of the fingers inside the coil. Every one was astonished at the development. Henry D. had always sustained a good character. , He was never known to drink before or since the night of the ball; was well off, his father having left him by will a large, well stocked farm. He was an only son, the idol of an aged mother, and withal he t was about to be married to the young girl he had taken to the ball. He was universally popular among the people, and tlio discovery fell upon the quiet village

like a flash oi lightning irom a clear sky. William W., the owner of the store, made a complaint, charging Henry with the erime of larceny and burglary. Henry was arrested and committed to j«il to await a hearing, as he either would not or could not give any satisfactory explanation about the handkerchief. Thus the case stood, when one evening, as I was sitting in my office communing with myself and my meerschaum, I heard a light knock at my door; I opened it, and a very pretty young girl entered and inquired if I was the lawyer who cleared persons accused of crime. I told her that I was a lawyer, and that I sometimes defended persons on criminal charges—that is, when I was perfectly satisfied that they were innocent (?) * ‘ But he is innocent, ” she replied with emotion; “he never Committed a crime in his life; he is an bgiqest, good young man, and would not ao a mean thing. ” Poor child ! I thought—what a pity it is that your idol is made of clay. I gave her a seat, and inquired who the person was who was so fortunate as to enlist the services of so effective an advocate in his behalf. “Was he a brother?” “ No,” she answered ; “he is no relation to me; ” and her beautiful lips quivered, while a blush, red as the hue of the morning, stole over her cheek. “ Why do you feel so much interested in one accused of crime, and who is no relation to you?” I inquired with a malicious satisfaction, when I remembered that, I was getting old and had lost all those charms for winch I was so eminent in my youth (?), “Who is lie?” I again inquired, as she hesitated to answer my former question. “HemyD., of ilie town of S , and he is accused of robbing a store, ” she replied at length ; “ but he is not guilty, I know he is not. It cannot be possible he would do such a thing. ” “Is lie the son of David D., my old friend and schoolmate, who died a few years ago ? ” I asked. “ Yes,” she said, and tlipn, in a voice broken with sobs of anguish, she related the occurrence I have narrated. She further informed me that his mother was living, but in very feeble health, and that she did not know of the accusation against her son ; that the neighbors had taken care not to let tlio terrible secret enter 'her sick-room, for fear that it would kill her ; and, “Oh !” said the young girl, “Henry was always such a good young man ; he never drank before the night, of the ball in his life. O, can you clear him ?” she asked, looking at me with such a pleading expression of countenance that, although I am not very susceptible to female influence and charms (?), it went directly to my heart, and then, by a circuitous route, reached my brain some minutes after ; and, when she again askod mo if I could clear him, I was ready to say yes, most emphatically, although I could not see how it was to be-done. I went with her to tlio jail, and had an interview with Henry, a fine-looking young man, whose open, ingenuous countenance gave the lie to the charge against him, no matter what the circumstances might indicate.

He told me he had never taken lialf-a-dozeu drinks of liquor in his life, had no taste or desire for it, aud only drank on the night of the ball because it was free; every one was drinking, and he was urged lo drink by the proprietor and a number of his friends. He said that after he became intoxicated he did not remember what happened, but had au indistinct recollection of cutting liis hand, and said it seemed to him that he and another young man, who was also drunk, went to William’s store and took the goods. The young man lie thought was with him denied it, and Henry would not tell his name, for, said he, “neither of us could have intended to steal tlio goods. I would not take William’s whole stock as a gift. I could not use them ; they . are coarse and cheap, and only intended for eanal-boat trade. But lam afraid I took them, for the more I think of it the more I seem to recollect it; yet I never thought of it until the goods were found, and my handkerchief among them ; then it seemed to come to me like the recollections of a half-forgotten dream.” - The young girl and myself left the cell; that is, I ieft first, and just now, while I think of it, I believe she remained behind a moment. I thought I heard a faint sound like an echo from my young days. But lam ready to testify in auy court where the question may become important that I don’t remember what it sounded like. Perhaps it was the click of the door-latch, although I am afraid there is no dooron the door of a prison-cell; but no matter, only it made me more determined to procure liis acquittal if it was “on the cards.”

While returning to my office, an idea struck me with considerable force. The phenomenon was so unusual that I remember it distinctly. I asked tlie girl if Henry had any more handkerchiefs like the one found among the goods ; she said he had a number—she had hemmed them for him. Slle also told me that on the night of the ball she bad taken Henry’s handkerchief and tied a very small knot in one comer—a knot commonly called by young people a “love-knot.” It was so small that it would hardly be noticed, and she desired me to look at the handkerchief found at the first opportunity, and see if there was such a knot on it, for, if it was not there, then it was not Henry’s. The hearing before the magistrate was to take place the next day bjit one, and I sent her homo with instructions to bring me in one of the handkerchiefs the next day, but to be sure and let no one know it. She started home, and I went to my office to think. The hearing was before A. C., a magistrate in our city. There was a long, high desk at one end of his office, behind which he sat during the examination. I stood behind the desk at one end. The prisoner, witnesses and audience were in front. I had procured a newspaper, which I opened and spread upon the top of the desk, and stood reading it while the preliminaries were being arranged. The handkerchief was produced, and, while I was cross-exam-ining the principal witness, I carelessly spread it over the newspaper I had been reading, and with a pin, unseen by any one, I punctured the handkerchief and paper around the margin of the blood spots. This I did while I was crossexamining tne witnesses and “ quarreling ” with the District Attorney. When the examination had concluded and the defendant had been held under bail for his appearance at court, I requested the magistrate to inclose the handkerchief in an envelope, and keep it until court. I did this because I feared some one would discover the love-knot, which I found as Ellen had related. I then returned to my office with the punctured newspaper, making a complete map of the blood-spots. Next, spreading out the handkerchief Ellen gave me, and the punctured newspaper over it, with a tuft of . cotton I dusted red lead over the pin-holes, and on removing the paper there was a map of the spots on the handkerchief. We had chicken for dinner that day, and a vial of its blood found its way into my office. With the blood and small brush 1 saturated the spots marked on the handkerchief, let it dry, laid it away, and awaited, the time of trial. It came at last, in the month of August. The jury was impaneled, and the District Attorney opened the case. % the side of. the prisoner sat his mother and affianced bride. Ellen was really a very beautiful girl, and, while the Commonwealth’s counsel was stating the

facts he Intended to prove, she looked at the jury with such a startled, pleading expression in her tear-dimnped eyes that I thought to myself, Well, gentlemen, if you can disregard that “item of evidence,” you are made of different material from any jury I ever selected. The witnesses were called and the facts proven in substance as I have narrated, np to the identification of the handkerchief. When the District Attorney called the name of William W I felt the blood rush to my heart in a way that almost silenced its beating. The crisis was at hand. I knew if I failed the young girl would be heartbroken, and I believed it would kill the old mother, whose heart was bound up in her idolized son. Not only this, but the defendant —as honest and worthy a young man as there was in the country —would be branded as a felon, sent to prison, and ruined for life ; and all this because the infamous license law had spread its poisonous .influence over the little village of S , and tempted its young men to vice and crime. The witness, William W , came upon the stand with a supercilious air, full of the importance of his position as principal witness against a defendant in a case that excited so much interest in the county. I knew he was a deep-dyed villain at heart, whose loftiest thoughts and best acts were so mean and low that the lowest and worst thoughts and acts of the prisoner at the bar had never yet descended to their level. In my practice I have observed that there are tw s o kinds of witnesses who appear in our courts. One class will tell a lie so adroitly that it will look just like the truth; the -other will tell the truth so bunglingly that it will look just like a lie. Fortunately for my client, William belonged to the latter class, and, when he tried to mix truth and falsehood together, he made a most lamentable failure. The fact was that he had tried to become a suitor of Ellen, and, moved by jealous hatred toward his successful rival, I believed he would hesitate at nothing that would procure that rival’s conviction.

The witness narrated the occurrence at the ball, the broken glasses and bleeding* hand ; and, when the handkerchief was handed him, he identified it without hesitation as the one he had taken from Henry’s pocket and wrapped around his hand. When the Commonwealth had ended the examination in chief, the witness was handed over to me for cross-ex-amination. I sat behind the counseltable. Close to me, on one side, sat the mother ; on the other, Henry and Ellen, to whom, my impression is, I had given some instructions before the trial commenced. It is so long ago, however, that I may have forgotten it. The handkerchief lay upon the table. The one Ellen brought me was in a small roll in my lap under the table. I took the right handkerchief in my hand and proceeded with the cross-examina-tion. My first object was to get William angry. In this I succeeded most completely; for, when I proceeded to ask him about his store, and if it wore not a place of nightly resort for canal-thieves, gamblers, and canal-boat cooks, to say that he was angry conveys a very faint idea of his mental condition. While our amiable interview had been proceeding, I accidentally dropped the right handkerchief iu my lap, and somehow, by mistake perhaps, picked up the wrong one and laid it upon the table in sight of the jury. The court, audience, and jury had become so interested in the .“unpleasantness” between the witness and counsel that the mistake was not discovered. Henry took the right handkerchief and put it in his pocket. By this time the amiable William would have testified to anything—that the moon was a cheese, for instance, or any other equally credible statement—had he deemed it necessary to secure a verdict of guilty. I then took the handkerchief from the table, and passed around in front, near to him, and asked the following questions as rapidly as the answers would permit: Question —“Did I understand you to say that you were positive that this handkercliiei is the one you tied around the defendant’s hand the night of the ball ?” Answer—“l don’t know what you understood, but I said so. ” Q. (still holding lhe handkerchief in my hand—“ What is there about this handkerchief that makes you so positive ?” A.—“ The spots of blood; and it is of white silk with raised flowers on it. I know it is the same one. ” Q. —“Now, sir, did you not say to Mr. C. that, if necessary, you would swear to a lie to send Henry to the penitentiary ?” A. (witness in a greate r rage, if possible, than before) —“No, sir, I- did not say so. It’s a lie ; I never said it.” Q. (handing the witness the handkerchief) —“Now take this handkerchief and show the jury any marks there are on it that make you willing to swear to it, if you can, and tell the truth. ” Witness took the handkerchief, opened it, and pointed out the blood-spots to the jury, and said : “I know it is the handkerchief ; I cannot be mistaken.” Q. —“You can’t! Don’t you sometimes make mistakes, or are you always right and never wrong ?” A.—“ You need not try to make me say anything else. I know this is the handkerchief. ”

Q. —“ Now, sir, is not this the handkerchief ? Henry (turning to the defendant), give me your handkerchief.” He took the right handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to mo. I took it, and, holding it out to witness, asked, with all the severity of tone I could : “ Now, sir, is not this the handkerchief ?” To say that the witness was astonished, is mild. That he was confounded, was certain. He took the handkerchief, looked at it, and, completely broken down, said he could not tell, but he believed the one he held in his hand was the one. This was the one Ellen had brought me. This ended the cross-examination, and “the commonwealth rested.” I opened the case for the defense. I don’t know what I said, but I tried to do the subject justice. I then called Ellen to the stand. She burst into a flood of tears, and for some time was unable to speak. Her relation to the defendant was well understood, and many eyes in the court-room were moist with manly tears. The Judge—a most excellent old man, and a line lawyer—spoke kindly to her, and as soon as she was able to proceed I commenced the examination. She narrated the occurrence at the ball, and, when I handed her the handkerchief Henry had taken from his pocket before the jury and given to me, she identified it in the most positive manner; showed the love-knot on the corner that she had tied in the ball-room before the fight, and also stated that she knew it was his, for she hemmed it. I now trembled for fear the District Attorney would ask her if she did not hem both handkerchiefs, and feared her answer would lead to a discovery I most certainly did not desire. I therefore immediately asked a question possibly not justified by the rules of evidence. The District Attorney objected, of course; I insisted; and soon, amid the smoke and noise of the legal battle, her answer was forgotten, as I hoped it would be. The District Attorney commenced the cross-examination in a very harsh tone and manner, by asking the witness the nature of her relation to the prisoner. This was to show the jury the interest she felt, and to affect her credibility. At this she commenced to cry, and her tears and sobs were more eloquent than words. The jury looked at the “hardhearted attorney” with an indignant ex-

pression, and I felt that the case was safe, ■particularly if Ellen would only continue to cry a little longer. This she did, until the counsel for the commonwealth, fearing he might prejudice his case, told her she might retire. O what a weight was off my mind! I then called a score of witnesses to prove that the defendant had always sustained a most excellent reputation, and rested my case. I commenced the argument for thedefense ; what I said I don’t recollect. I spoke of the uncertainty of circumstantial evidence, and that white silk handkerchiefs were common enough in the stores of the country; that, when Henry cut his hand with the broken glass in the bar-room, it was a natural thought, from the circumstances, that led the witness, Mr. W., to wrap the handkerchief around the wounded hand. If the burglar, in entering the store, broke a pane of glass, if he had accidentally cut his hand, it would be most likely that the same thought, begotten by similar circumstances, would,suggest to him or his companion, if he- had any, to wrap it up with his handkerchief. He was as likely to be the owner of a white silk one as the defendant. The rule of law was : That, “in circumstantial evidence, the inculpatory facts must not only be consistent with guilt, but absolutely incompatible with innocence.” I said something about the mother and young girl, and the tender relations existing between her and the defendant; and when, in conclusion, I spoke of hotel license to make drunkards of the rising generation, I think I made one man at least, with a good moral character, wish his reputation had been so bad that the court had refused his license. When I closed the case, I knew by the expressions on the faces of the jury that Henry was safe. The District Attorney made an able argument; but when did either law or logic ever succeed against a woman’s tears ? Says the proverb in the Talmud : “ Men should be careful lest they cause women to weep, for God counts their teaix” The court charged the jury favorably ; they retired, and in a few moments returned with a verdict of Not guilty. It was received with every manifestation of approval; in fact, the court had to suspend business for a few moments, while Henry woe receiving the congratulations of the people. * Yes, Henry was acquitted, and, although it was accomplished as much by legerdemain as by law, and may not meet with the approval of every one, yet I have hever regretted my acts in the case. Why should I ? I had done nothing but procure the acquittal of an honest young man who was made insane by a man who had a license to do so, and while in that mental condition had committed a crime. But for the agencies of the law he would never thus have sinned ; and if ever the Jesuitical doctrine was true, that “Sometimes the end justifies the means,” it was true iu this case.