The Case and Exceptions Part 11

The invalid nodded.

"Even if it's about the--the Horton case?"

Mr. Constable nodded positively.

"Well, you remember, just before you were taken sick, I told you I thought they'd got a pretty good case----"

"Yes, yes." The whisper was eager, expectant.

--"And the more I examined it the more positive I became that there was no chance for attacking it on the merits----"

The invalid lay back on the pillows and smiled foolishly at the man beside him.

--"So, of course, I advised the District Attorney to adjourn the matter for a week, and he did it. In the meantime I began to see daylight, and I told him to adjourn it again. But Mackenzie either saw the point or suspected something, for he fought like a devil against further delay, and we only got three days. Three days! Good lord--I had to have two weeks. And, to make things worse, yesterday old Judge Masterton was unexpectedly a.s.signed to hold court, and Geddes is the only man in town who can approach Masterton on a delicate matter of this kind. But Geddes wasn't at home, and for nearly a day we couldn't get on his trail. Then we learned he was in Buffalo, but we couldn't find the District Attorney to get his consent to retaining Geddes. My G.o.d, we sweated blood, but we couldn't find him--and every hour was precious. Finally Glenning had to start for Buffalo without the necessary consent. Two hours later I located the District Attorney, got what I wanted, and then learned Geddes had left Buffalo for Albany! Well, it was one chance in a thousand, but I wired Glenning on the express, caught it before it reached Albany--and Geddes is retained! What do you think of that?"

There was no response from the bed, and Hertzog bent forward to see if the patient was asleep, but stopped as the laboured speech of the sick man reached him.

"And Geddes--he will apply for another adjournment?"

"Yes, and win it, too. He's got Judge Masterton in his pocket, I tell you!"

"I don't--I'm not sure--I understand."

"Can't you see that Horton's sentence will expire before the motion for new trial can be heard?"

"Yes--but----"

The sick man raised himself on his elbow, and stared at his visitor.

"Well, when a man's served his sentence, the Court won't entertain an application for a new trial. So there won't be any public discussion of Horton's interesting yarns. See? Pretty good, isn't it? You'll have to study law when you get well, Constable. I tell you it pays. Tricks in all trades, you know, and there's nothing like---- Why, Constable, old man, what's the matter? Here, Nurse! Nurse! Come and look after your patient. He's struck me and he's trying to get out of his bed! You've got him?--Yes, of course I'll go--but I didn't say anything to excite him. All right, I'm going--but what in the world----"

"Write!" panted the sick man as the door closed, "and for G.o.d's sake write quickly, Nurse. Are you ready? Yes? Now then----

"_Barton Mackenzie, "99 Wall Street_.

"_Another adjournment fatal. Constable dying. Makes full confession. See him at once._

"Wire it, Nurse, wire it, and--let no one know! I thought I had done enough--but I'll do it--I'll beat them yet. Help me to live--till--he comes!"

IN HIS OWN BEHALF.

"Well, Clancy, your case is on the Day Calendar, and is likely to be reached this week."

"'Tis thankful Oi am, Sorr."

Michael Clancy's two hundredweight of flesh and bones rested in my most reliable office chair, and Michael Clancy's huge hands were clasped over his capacious stomach, while his outstretched legs were crossed in a settled att.i.tude.

Clancy had been entrusted to me by a sympathetic House Physician of an up-town hospital. The story made a "negligence case."

I had taken up the matter merely out of good nature, but the old man was a character, and I soon became interested in his personality.

For two years he had been a regular visitor at my office, ostensibly to make inquiries as to the progress of his law suit, but really, I think, for social recreation. A litigation does not advance very rapidly in a New York Court for the first two years, and he knew this at the outset, but his calls were made with a regularity which suggested routine. If he chanced to come in while I was busy he never interrupted, but sat in the outer offices chatting with the clerks until such time as he judged his social duty had been discharged.

Clancy's confidence in me was certainly gratifying, but it took the form of completely transferring to my shoulders all responsibility for the case. His att.i.tude toward it was that of a friend interested but not especially involved in the outcome. Whenever he referred to it, which was not often, he spoke of it as "yur kase," as though he had washed his hands of it but wished me well. There was no question about his grat.i.tude, but his idea of expressing this was to put himself wholly in my care and give as little trouble as possible.

I once thought that the possession of another's confidence was a proper matter for self-congratulation, but I have never felt quite the same about this since I finished Clancy's case.

Michael's injuries had completely incapacitated him for work and his ma.s.sive frame had taken on flesh until the ponderous body made his head appear ridiculously small. His clean-shaven face was round, his eyes were almost tiny, and his mouth was like that of a child.

Although loquacious to a degree, his delivery was slow, and whenever he talked to me his every word was accompanied by an apologetic smile, so that even when he spoke of his troubles his cheeks wore a "permanent puff."

"Have you ever been in a court, Michael?" I asked as Clancy sat by my desk smiling his benedictions upon my news of an early trial.

"Oi hov not, Sorr--leastways not since Dolan's Nannie wuz afther bein'

kilt be Beagan's pup."

I did not investigate Clancy's experience in that _cause celebre_, although I saw reminiscence in his eye.

"I think we better go over your testimony, Clancy," I said. "It's two years since the accident occurred and you may have forgotten details--I'm sure I have. But you remember making this affidavit at the time--do you not?"

Clancy looked at the paper in my hand and then cast a knowing glance in my direction.

"Am Oi ter say--'Yiz'--Sorr?"

"Why you're to tell the truth, of course," I answered rather sharply.

"But you must remember swearing to this."

"Must Oi now, Sorr? Thot's all right thin. But whisper, Oi only remimber a shlip av a gurl comin' in an' makin' little burd thracks in a bit av a book an' you spakin' to her thot pleasant-loike--'twas fascinayted Oi wuz."

I began to foresee trouble with this willing witness and to view Clancy in a new light. However I tried explanation.

"That was the stenographer taking down this affidavit," I answered.

"Wuz it now, Sorr? Oi'll not forgit ut."

I felt somewhat embarra.s.sed by the gleam of cunning in Clancy's little eyes, but I pretended not to notice it and continued:

"I'll read the statement to you and that will refresh your memory. Then we can go over the questions you are liable to be asked."

"'Tis as you loike, Sorr."

Clancy settled himself, with resignation rather than interest expressed in his good-natured face, but I knew he was all attention.

"_City and County of New York ss:_" I began.