Manalive - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel Manalive Part 15 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
"I think," said Moon, suppressing a slight yawn, "that your Sub-Warden mentioned that Smith was one of the University's record men for shooting."
"Why, as to that--" began Pym, after an instant of stillness.
"A second question," continued Moon, comparatively curtly.
"You said there were other cases of the accused trying to kill people.
Why have you not got evidence of them?"
The American planted the points of his fingers on the table again.
"In those cases," he said precisely, "there was no evidence from outsiders, as in the Cambridge case, but only the evidence of the actual victims."
"Why didn't you get their evidence?"
"In the case of the actual victims," said Pym, "there was some difficulty and reluctance, and--"
"Do you mean," asked Moon, "that none of the actual victims would appear against the prisoner?"
"That would be exaggerative," began the other.
"A third question," said Moon, so sharply that every one jumped.
"You've got the evidence of the Sub-Warden who heard some shots; where's the evidence of the Warden himself who was shot at?
The Warden of Brakespeare lives, a prosperous gentleman."
"We did ask for a statement from him," said Pym a little nervously; "but it was so eccentrically expressed that we suppressed it out of deference to an old gentleman whose past services to science have been great."
Moon leaned forward. "You mean, I suppose," he said, "that his statement was favourable to the prisoner."
"It might be understood so," replied the American doctor; "but, really, it was difficult to understand at all.
In fact, we sent it back to him."
"You have no longer, then, any statement signed by the Warden of Brakespeare."
"No."
"I only ask," said Michael quietly, "because we have.
To conclude my case I will ask my junior, Mr. Inglewood, to read a statement of the true story--a statement attested as true by the signature of the Warden himself."
Arthur Inglewood rose with several papers in his hand, and though he looked somewhat refined and self-effacing, as he always did, the spectators were surprised to feel that his presence was, upon the whole, more efficient and sufficing than his leader's. He was, in truth, one of those modest men who cannot speak until they are told to speak; and then can speak well. Moon was entirely the opposite.
His own impudences amused him in private, but they slightly embarra.s.sed him in public; he felt a fool while he was speaking, whereas Inglewood felt a fool only because he could not speak.
The moment he had anything to say he could speak; and the moment he could speak, speaking seemed quite natural.
Nothing in this universe seemed quite natural to Michael Moon.
"As my colleague has just explained," said Inglewood, "there are two enigmas or inconsistencies on which we base the defence.
The first is a plain physical fact. By the admission of everybody, by the very evidence adduced by the prosecution, it is clear that the accused was celebrated as a specially good shot.
Yet on both the occasions complained of he shot from a distance of four or five feet, and shot at him four or five times, and never hit him once.
That is the first startling circ.u.mstance on which we base our argument.
The second, as my colleague has urged, is the curious fact that we cannot find a single victim of these alleged outrages to speak for himself.
Subordinates speak for him. Porters climb up ladders to him.
But he himself is silent. Ladies and gentlemen, I propose to explain on the spot both the riddle of the shots and the riddle of the silence.
I will first of all read the covering letter in which the true account of the Cambridge incident is contained, and then that doc.u.ment itself.
When you have heard both, there will be no doubt about your decision.
The covering letter runs as follows:--
"Dear Sir,--The following is a very exact and even vivid account of the incident as it really happened at Brakespeare College. We, the undersigned, do not see any particular reason why we should refer it to any isolated authors.h.i.+p. The truth is, it has been a composite production; and we have even had some difference of opinion about the adjectives.
But every word of it is true.--We are, yours faithfully,
"Wilfred Emerson Eames, "Warden of Brakespeare College, Cambridge.
"Innocent Smith.
"The enclosed statement," continued Inglewood, "runs as follows:--
"A celebrated English university backs so abruptly on the river, that it has, so to speak, to be propped up and patched with all sorts of bridges and semi-detached buildings.
The river splits itself into several small streams and ca.n.a.ls, so that in one or two corners the place has almost the look of Venice. It was so especially in the case with which we are concerned, in which a few flying b.u.t.tresses or airy ribs of stone sprang across a strip of water to connect Brakespeare College with the house of the Warden of Brakespeare.
"The country around these colleges is flat; but it does not seem flat when one is thus in the midst of the colleges.
For in these flat fens there are always wandering lakes and lingering rivers of water. And these always change what might have been a scheme of horizontal lines into a scheme of vertical lines.
Wherever there is water the height of high buildings is doubled, and a British brick house becomes a Babylonian tower.
In that s.h.i.+ning unshaken surface the houses hang head downwards exactly to their highest or lowest chimney.
The coral-coloured cloud seen in that abyss is as far below the world as its original appears above it.
Every sc.r.a.p of water is not only a window but a skylight.
Earth splits under men's feet into precipitous aerial perspectives, into which a bird could as easily wing its way as--"
Dr. Cyrus Pym rose in protest. The doc.u.ments he had put in evidence had been confined to cold affirmation of fact.
The defence, in a general way, had an indubitable right to put their case in their own way, but all this landscape gardening seemed to him (Dr. Cyrus Pym) to be not up to the business.
"Will the leader of the defence tell me," he asked, "how it can possibly affect this case, that a cloud was cor'l-coloured, or that a bird could have winged itself anywhere?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Michael, lifting himself lazily; "you see, you don't know yet what our defence is.
Till you know that, don't you see, anything may be relevant.
Why, suppose," he said suddenly, as if an idea had struck him, "suppose we wanted to prove the old Warden colour-blind.
Suppose he was shot by a black man with white hair, when he thought he was being shot by a white man with yellow hair!
To ascertain if that cloud was really and truly coral-coloured might be of the most ma.s.sive importance."
He paused with a seriousness which was hardly generally shared, and continued with the same fluency: "Or suppose we wanted to maintain that the Warden committed suicide--that he just got Smith to hold the pistol as Brutus's slave held the sword. Why, it would make all the difference whether the Warden could see himself plain in still water. Still water has made hundreds of suicides: one sees oneself so very--well, so very plain."
"Do you, perhaps," inquired Pym with austere irony, "maintain that your client was a bird of some sort--say, a flamingo?"
"In the matter of his being a flamingo," said Moon with sudden severity, "my client reserves his defence."
No one quite knowing what to make of this, Mr. Moon resumed his seat and Inglewood resumed the reading of his doc.u.ment:--
"There is something pleasing to a mystic in such a land of mirrors.
For a mystic is one who holds that two worlds are better than one.
In the highest sense, indeed, all thought is reflection.
"This is the real truth, in the saying that second thoughts are best.