Otherwise all a crook need do would be to hire a half dozen of Ziegfeld's midnight beauties to testify for him by day; and the slender darlings could work in double shifts and be whisked in auto busses from roof garden to court room. Bently was no weakling, but Katie—perhaps because it was the moment of apple blossoms and dogwood and the anniversary of his wedding day—Katie got him. Kathleen Mavourneen, and all! No man could have brought up a fatherless and motherless girl like that and keep her so simple, frank and innocent unless there was something fine about him. You see, highbrows and lowbrows are all alike below the collar bone.
And here's the catch in it. Bently had told Eleanor that very morning that none of the rogues would get by him, and he had meant it. None of them ever had—in all his years of jury service. Time and again he had been the one stubborn man to hang out all night for a verdict of guilty against eleven outraged and indignant fellow talesmen who wanted to acquit. But quite unconsciously he found himself saying that this old fellow at the bar wasn't a rogue at all. If he was a criminal he was so at most only in a Pickwickian sense. All the previous cases in which he had sat had been for murder or arson, robbery or theft, burglary, blackmail or some other outrageous offense against common morals or decency. But here was a man who had never done anything but good in his life, and was at the bar of justice charged with crime merely because some cold-blooded mercenaries thought he was interfering with their business! Bently was in a recalcitrant and indignant frame of mind against the prosecution long before the defense began. The whole proceeding seemed to him an outrageous farce. That wasn't what they were there for at all! So swiftly does the acid of sympathy corrode and weaken the stoutest conscience, the most logical of minds!
Mr. Tutt did not put Danny on the stand—why should he?—and the octogenarian judge declared the case closed on both sides. Then everybody made a speech, in which he told the jury to disregard everything everybody else said.
Mr. Tutt spoke first. He thanked the gaping jury for their attention and courtesy and kindness and intelligence and for taking the trouble to listen to him. He told them what a wise and upright judge the old baboon on the bench was; and what a sterling, honest, kindly chap the fat assistant district attorney really was. They were the highest type of public officers—but paid—he accentuated the "paid" very slightly—to do their duty as they interpreted it. Now, Mr. Hingman would have to claim that Danny Lowry was a criminal; whereas, thank heaven! they all of them—every man of them—knew he was nothing of the kind! Criminal—that old man? Mr. Tutt raised his eyes and his arms to heaven in protest. Why, one look at him would create a reasonable doubt! But the case against him failed absolutely for the following reasons:
Daniel Lowry had not practised veterinary medicine without a license in taking care of Brown's sick horse, because he had not claimed to be a veterinary; he had not been paid for his services; and because all he had done was to help a suffering animal, as any man who called himself a Christian and had a heart would have done, and as it was his duty to do. Who "shall have an ass or an ox fallen into a pit"? and so on. It was in Holy Writ! The highest law!
There was no evidence against Danny at all, because Brown was an accomplice and his testimony was not corroborated; at any rate he was a procurer and instigator of crime, an agent provocateur, a despicable liar, hypocrite and violator of the very law he was paid to uphold; and as he had held himself out as a physician to Danny Lowry everything that passed between them was privileged as a confidential communication and must be disregarded as if it had never been said.
Daniel Lowry was a man of the highest reputation, of such character that he never had been guilty of an unkind or selfish act in his entire life, much less commit crime; which alone, taken by itself, was quite enough to interject and raise a reasonable doubt—upon which they must acquit.
Then Tom Hingman got up and grimaced and said he had known Mr. Tutt all his professional life and he was a peach, but they mustn't believe what he said or let him put anythin' over on 'em, for he was pretty slick even if he was a fine old feller. Now the plain fact was, as they all knew perfectly well, that this old boy had been caught with the goods. It might be tough luck, but the law was the law and they were all there to enforce it—much as they hated to do so—and there was nothing to it but to convict and let the judge deal with the defendant with that mercy and leniency and forbearance for which he was so justly famous. He panted a few times and sat down.
Then the judge took his crack. He told the jury, in so many words, to pay no attention to either the A.D.A. or to Mr. Tutt, and to listen only to him, because he was the whole thing. The question was: Had the defendant assumed to give medical treatment to Brown's horse, for any kind of valuable consideration? In determining this they should consider all the evidence, including the fact that the prisoner had claimed to be a veterinary, had been paid for treating Brown's horse as such, had pleaded guilty in the police court, and that none of the alleged facts upon which the charge was based had been denied before them in present trial.
As he said this the pink-and-white baboon looked at them steadily and significantly for several seconds over his eyeglasses. They should consider the business card which the defendant had given to the complaining witness and in which he held himself out as a veterinary. The testimony of the complainant stood uncontradicted. The complainant was not an accomplice and his testimony did not have to be corroborated. A decoy wasn't an accomplice. That was the law. Neither was what had passed between the complainant and defendant privileged as a confidential communication, because the complainant was not a physician. That was all there was to that!
They should ask themselves what in fact the defendant had done if not practise veterinary medicine without a license? It was not controverted but that he had said he was a veterinary, administered medicine to a sick horse, offered to compound payment for medical treatment for himself, finally taken five dollars, and admitted his guilt before the magistrate. If they had any reasonable doubt—and such a doubt might of course be raised by evidence of previous good character—they would of course give it to the defendant and acquit him, but such a doubt must be no mere whim, guess or conjecture that the defendant might not after all be guilty even if the evidence seemed so to demonstrate; it must be a substantial doubt based on the evidence and such a one as would influence them in the important matters of their own daily, domestic and business lives. That was all there was to it! Let them take the case and decide it! It should not take 'em very long. The question of how the defendant should be punished, if at all, did not concern them. He would take care of that. They might safely leave it to him! He bowed and turned to his papers. The jury gathered up their coats and straggled after Cap Phelan out of the court room.
"Y'd be all right, counselor," remarked the second court officer, suspending momentarily the delights of mastication, "if 'twasn't fer that son of a gun on the back row, Gibson! He's a bad one! I've known him for years! He'd convict his own mother of petit larceny!"
"So? So?" murmured Mr. Tutt, producing a leather case the size of a doctor's instrument bag from his inside pocket and removing a couple of stogies therefrom. "Well, it's too late now to do anything about it. I'm going out to stretch my legs and have a smoke."
Mr. Tutt loitered into the corridor, stepped unostentatiously behind a pillar, slipped into the adjoining court room—which happened to be empty—and thence back into the passage upon which the jury rooms opened. He found Cap Phelan standing before one of these with a finger to his lips.
"Pst! They're at it a-ready!" whispered Phelan as Mr. Tutt slipped him a stogy.
The transom above was open and through it drifted out a faint blue cloud. A great hubbub was going on inside. Suddenly above it a harsh voice rang out: "That ain't a reasonable doubt! I tell you, that ain't a reasonable doubt! Aw, you give me a pain, you do!"
"I've got 'em!" grinned Mr. Tutt contentedly. "Phelan, bring me a chair!"
Now