was about to be sworn, when the district attorney turning to him carelessly, remarked,
“Understand the nature of an oath?”
“Outside,” said the man, pointing to the door.
“I say, do you know what an oath is?”
“Five cents,” explained the man.
“Do you mean to insult me?” roared the prosecuting officer. “Are you an idiot?”
“Fresh baked. I’m deefe. I don’t hear a word you say.”
The man was discharged. “He wouldn’t have made a bad juror, though,” whispered Braham. “I saw him looking at the prisoner sympathizingly. That’s a point you want to watch for.”
The result of the whole day’s work was the selection of only two jurors. These however were satisfactory to Mr. Braham. He had kept off all those he did not know. No one knew better than this great criminal lawyer that the battle was fought on the selection of the jury. The subsequent examination of witnesses, the eloquence expended on the jury are all for effect outside. At least that is the theory of Mr. Braham. But human nature is a queer thing, he admits; sometimes jurors are unaccountably swayed, be as careful as you can in choosing them.
It was four weary days before this jury was made up, but when it was finally complete, it did great credit to the counsel for the defence. So far as Mr. Braham knew, only two could read, one of whom was the foreman, Mr. Braham’s friend, the showy contractor. Low foreheads and heavy faces they all had; some had a look of animal cunning, while the most were only stupid. The entire panel formed that boasted heritage commonly described as the “bulwark of our liberties.”
The District Attorney, Mr. McFlinn, opened the case for the state. He spoke with only the slightest accent, one that had been inherited but not cultivated. He contented himself with a brief statement of the case. The state would prove that Laura Hawkins, the prisoner at the bar, a fiend in the form of a beautiful woman, shot dead George Selby, a Southern gentleman, at the time and place described. That the murder was in cold blood, deliberate and without provocation; that it had been long premeditated and threatened; that she had followed the deceased from Washington to commit it. All this would be proved by unimpeachable witnesses. The attorney added that the duty of the jury, however painful it might be, would be plain and simple. They were citizens, husbands, perhaps fathers. They knew how insecure life had become in the metropolis. Tomorrow our own wives might be widows, their own children orphans, like the bereaved family in yonder hotel, deprived of husband and father by the jealous hand of some murderous female. The attorney sat down, and the clerk called?
“Henry Brierly.”
CHAPTER LV.
Henry Brierly took the stand. Requested by the District Attorney to tell the jury all he knew about the killing, he narrated the circumstances substantially as the reader already knows them.
He accompanied Miss Hawkins to New York at her request, supposing she was coming in relation to a bill then pending in Congress, to secure the attendance of absent members. Her note to him was here shown. She appeared to be very much excited at the Washington station. After she had asked the conductor several questions, he heard her say, “He can’t escape.” Witness asked her “Who?” and she replied “Nobody.” Did not see her during the night. They traveled in a sleeping car. In the morning she appeared not to have slept, said she had a headache. In crossing the ferry she asked him about the shipping in sight; he pointed out where the Cunarders lay when in port. They took a cup of coffee that morning at a restaurant. She said she was anxious to reach the Southern Hotel where Mr. Simons, one of the absent members, was staying, before he went out. She was entirely self-possessed, and beyond unusual excitement did not act unnaturally. After she had fired twice at Col. Selby, she turned the pistol towards her own breast, and witness snatched it from her. She had been a great deal with Selby in Washington, appeared to be infatuated with him.
(Cross-examined by Mr. Braham.) “Mist-er…..er Brierly!” (Mr. Braham had in perfection this lawyer’s trick of annoying a witness, by drawling out the “Mister,” as if unable to recall the name, until the witness is sufficiently aggravated, and then suddenly, with a rising inflection, flinging his name at him with startling unexpectedness.) “Mist-er…..er Brierly! What is your occupation?”
“Civil Engineer, sir.”
“Ah, civil engineer, (with a glance at the jury). Following that occupation with Miss Hawkins?” (Smiles by the jury).
“No, sir,” said Harry, reddening.
“How long have you known the prisoner?”
“Two years, sir. I made her acquaintance in Hawkeye, Missouri.”
“M…..m…m. Mist-er…..er Brierly! Were you not a lover of Miss Hawkins?”
Objected to. “I submit, your Honor, that I have the right to establish the relation of this unwilling witness to the prisoner.” Admitted.
“Well, sir,” said Harry hesitatingly, “we were friends.”
“You act like a friend!” (sarcastically.) The jury were beginning to hate this neatly dressed young sprig. “Mister……er….Brierly! Didn’t Miss Hawkins refuse you?”
Harry blushed and stammered and looked at the judge. “You must answer, sir,” said His Honor.
“She — she — didn’t accept me.”
“No. I should think not. Brierly do you dare tell the jury that you had not an interest in the removal of your rival, Col. Selby?” roared Mr. Braham in a voice of thunder.
“Nothing like this, sir, nothing like this,” protested the witness.
“That’s all, sir,” said Mr. Braham severely.
“One word,” said the District Attorney. “Had you the least suspicion of the prisoner’s intention, up to the moment of the shooting?”
“Not the least,” answered Harry earnestly.
“Of course not, of course not,” nodded Mr. Braham to the jury.
The prosecution then put upon the stand the other witnesses of the shooting at the hotel, and the clerk and the attending physicians. The fact of the homicide was clearly established. Nothing new was elicited, except from the clerk, in reply to a question by Mr. Braham, the fact that when the prisoner enquired for Col. Selby she appeared excited and there was a wild look in her eyes.
The dying deposition of Col. Selby was then produced. It set forth Laura’s threats, but there was a significant addition to it, which the newspaper report did not have. It seemed that after the deposition was taken as reported, the Colonel was told for the first time by his physicians that his wounds were mortal. He appeared to be in great mental agony and fear; and said he had not finished his deposition. He added, with great difficulty and long pauses these words. “I — have — not — told — all. I must tell — put — it — down — I — wronged — her. Years — ago — I — can’t see — O — God
