you will be able to compare the Dutch and English criminal procedure."
Carew would have preferred to decline the invitation, but in ordinary politeness found it difficult to do so; and he accompanied the native lawyer—who undoubtedly possessed the gift of the gab, if no other qualifications for his profession—to the law courts.
Carew felt anything but easy in his mind as he walked through the main streets of the town, at this hour of the day crowded with a motley throng, including not a few of his own countrymen, bent on pleasure or business. Pretending to listen to his companion's unceasing gossip, the solicitor looked anxiously about him as he went, fearing at each step to see some well-known face from Fleet Street. The glaring sunshine had rejoiced his soul when he was out on the lonely seas, but in the hives of his fellow-men he shrank from the all-searching light, and experienced guilt's instinct for safe obscurity.
But he saw no one he knew on his way, and was much relieved when Mr. Hoogendyk procured for him, after some difficulty, a seat in a remote and dark corner of the court, where he could see and hear, himself unseen.
Carew soon became so interested in watching the faces of the three men who were being tried for their lives that, in spite of the advocate's whispered suggestions on the subject, he paid no attention to the procedure, and did not endeavour to compare the Dutch and English legal systems. He took no interest in law now; he was indeed heartily sick of it, and hoped that he had washed his hands of it for ever.
Of the three men only one had a really unprepossessing and murderous countenance. A murderer looks much like any other man, though people who take their ideas from waxwork shows think otherwise. That this should be so is obvious enough. A few only of murderers have homicidal proclivities as a part of their nature, and these indeed may betray their character in their physiognomy. All the other passions and vices of disposition can, under certain circumstances, compel the man who has the greatest horror of bloodshed to kill a fellow-being. In the large majority of cases, murder is not a tendency but the result of other tendencies.
But one of the three prisoners had indeed a villainous appearance. He was a big, clumsily built Spaniard from the Basque countries, with a heavy, animal face and an evil mouth, indicative of the stupid cruelty of some savage beast.
The other Spaniard was a short, stout man, with a jovial face and an enormous black moustache, which he twirled occasionally with a complete nonchalance. There was nothing of the murderer in his appearance.
Neither of these two men exhibited any signs of fear. The first faced death with the dogged pluck of an animal, the second with a somewhat higher sort of courage.
The third man alone, the Frenchman, showed that he was suffering the agonies of acute terror. The little Spaniard, observing this, nodded to him now and then, smiling maliciously, and the big man scowled at him with surly contempt. The Frenchman's face was quite white, and the perspiration poured down it in streams; his lips quivered, and, holding on to the rail of the dock with hands tightly clenched, he listened with intense attention to every word of judge or advocate.
The features of this man, though distorted with fear, were delicate and refined. His handsome face was more like that of a Provençal gentleman than of a rough sailor. He was a well-knit man of about thirty, with the blue-black hair of the South. Over his fine and expressive eyes were bushy black brows, which almost met on his forehead, giving him a somewhat sinister appearance.
Carew found himself taking a strange, morbid interest in watching these three faces. In some way he identified himself with the prisoners. Had not they committed a crime only in degree differing from his own? The day might come when he too would be tried for his life. He wondered whether he would then look like the dogged Basque, the cowardly Frenchman, or the other. He had always flattered himself that he did not fear death; but how difficult to know how he would face it until his time came!
At last, amid complete silence, judgment was given. Carew could not understand the words, but he knew their import—
"Not guilty!"
The spectators groaned and hissed when they heard this decision. The Frenchman fell back fainting. The big Spaniard glanced boldly round the court with a ferocious scowl, and he made an involuntary motion with his right hand, as if he held his knife in it and was longing to rip up a few of his enemies. The little man smiled, and bowed pleasantly to the court, after the manner of an actor who is acknowledging his tribute of applause.
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