“Merely to suggest that if you think both cases are sufficiently important you might order a preliminary hearing first thing tomorrow morning—all witnesses to be present as a matter of fair play.”
“Why? Have you got something?”
“I’d like to see Jenkins given an early chance to take all the credit to himself. Maybe he deserves it,” Jim answered.
“Oh! Very well. By gad, Grim, if you let Jenkins get away with this I’ll have you sent back to America. You think Catesby ought to have a hearing too tomorrow morning, eh?”
“He ought to come first, sir.”
“Yes, he has the right to that. What else?”
“Nothing else. If you’ll issue the necessary orders, sir, I know of nothing that need spoil your appetite for dinner or your sleep tonight.”
“That so? Ahem! Somebody blundered, eh?”
“Good night, sir.”
CHAPTER XIV
“Proceed with the case.”
Next morning the office at G.H.Q. was crowded, for the provost-marshal was there with all his prisoners; and there were a score of witnesses in addition, to say nothing of Brigadier Jenkins in his glory, and Aaronsohn, who was halfway between prisoner and witness. The latter had a nondescript, rebellious-looking Arab beside him, who had had to be bribed to come at all.
Catesby was sitting in a corner by himself, in theoretical charge of two sentries, who stayed outside the office door.
Anthony came in punctual to the second.
“Major Grim here?”
To Jenkins’ fidgety disgust Jim was busy talking to Charkas over against the wall.
“I think he’s too busy interfering with witnesses to answer his name,” snapped the brigadier.
“Major Grim!”
“Yes, sir.”
“What are you doing over there?”
“Cautioning a prisoner to tell the truth for his own sake.”
“Ahem! I understand you appear for Captain Catesby? You want the case heard?”
“If you please.”
“I object to that,” said Jenkins. “Captain Catesby is an important witness in the next case.”
“I will invite comment from you at the proper time, general,” said Anthony without looking up. “Call the prisoner.”
Catesby marched up and faced the desk.
“Then I want the room cleared,” Jenkins blustered.
“I want all my witnesses, including Charkas, in the room for the present,” Jim said quietly.
“I particularly want Charkas out of the room,” insisted Jenkins. “He has got nothing to do with this case.”
“Has he?” asked Anthony.
“Yes, sir,” answered Jim.
“The defense is within its rights,” said Anthony.
And Jenkins, not exactly knowing why, but intuitively sensing disaster, turned about three shaded redder in the face.
“I’m ready to hear what you have to say, general,” Anthony announced; and Jenkins opened fire on the unhappy Catesby, charging him first with culpable neglect and disobedience to orders in permitting two tons of TNT to be stolen from a truck, and secondly with felony in having given the railway memorandum to Charkas, enabling him to steal the stuff.
Also with being an accessory to a felony before and after the fact, and with conduct in general unbecoming to an officer and a gentleman.
At that point Jim produced the railway memorandum and laid it on the table.
“In case of need I may ask to have it examined for fingerprints,” he said. “I expect to be able to prove that those of Captain Catesby are not on it, whereas those of General Jenkins and Ibrahim Charkas are. But that may not be necessary.”
“Are you making any implication?” demanded Jenkins.
“No, sir.”
“Proceed with the case,” commanded Anthony.
Jenkins had a peroration all prepared; he was constitutionally incapable of doing anything without calling attention to his own virtues, and he dissertated at length on the high calling of an officer until Anthony cut him short and demanded evidence.
Jenkins bit his mustache, and swore under his breath.
“My charge in itself is evidence,” he said, “sufficient evidence to hold the prisoner. I am withholding my chief witness for the next case.”
“You mean that you appear as prosecutor and witness?” asked Anthony.
“Yes—on the charge of culpable negligence.”
“I’m willing that charge should be taken first by itself,” said Jim, and Jenkins looked vastly relieved and nodded to him.
“Go on oath if you’re a witness,” ordered Anthony, and Jenkins duly kissed the well-worn Testament.
“Now go ahead. I’ll write down your evidence.”
* * * * *
Jenkins described then in great detail as to his own feelings in the matter, but vaguely as to time, how he had given orders to Catesby on the evening of the third to go and take charge of the TNT, which was subsequently stolen and recovered in Jerusalem.
“And I ask,” he said, “that the prisoner be held for court martial on this charge, and that the other charges be taken tomorrow.”
“Certainly not,” said Anthony. “Any questions, Major Grim?”
Jim pinned Jenkins down to giving the exact time—first, however, getting him to boast about his excellent memory. Driven to it, Jenkins swore on oath that he had given the memorandum to Catesby shortly after five o’clock in the afternoon of the third.
“You gave it into his hand?”
“Yes.”
“You swear to that?”
“Certainly.”
Jim put up Catesby, who told a perfectly straight story of having questioned a man named Sayed Haurani for an hour, beginning before five o’clock, at a point more than a mile away from Jenkins’ office, and by Jenkins’ orders on that date.
Jenkins reserved cross-examination. With his eye on Charkas, whose face was the picture of indecision and mixed emotions, Jim called Sayed Haurani. The man identified Catesby and confirmed his story in all particulars.
Jenkins tried to break down the story by bullying the witness, but failed. The man was insolently confident.
“I ask to have the hearing postponed until I can look up this man’s antecedents,” said Jenkins. “He’s an obvious liar. This is what comes of turning an accused officer loose to suborn evidence in the bazaar.”
Anthony waved the objection aside, and Jenkins grew still more uncomfortable.
“Either this witness is committing perjury, or I did,” he blustered. “It’s no joking matter.”
“Obviously,” said Anthony, again without looking up. “Call your next witness if you have one, Major Grim.”
Then Aaronsohn stood up