The Argosy — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THREE THEORIES OF A CRIME. 207 Bright was puzzled. ‘‘’There is only one man can explain that,’’ he answered at length, ‘‘ and that’s the doctor himself.’’ The magnifying glass revealed the fact also that in some spots beneath the alleged hand the fiber of the carpet remained clearly defined. ‘‘ How do you account for that ?’’ I asked. ‘*T don’t account for it at all,’’ he answered testily. ‘‘It is undoubtedly the mark of his hand, so what does it matter, anyhow ?’’ ‘It may matter a great deal later on, Mr. Bright,’’ I answered, for in some strange manner that imprint of a hand filled me with conflicting feel- ings of failure and success. It seemed to me that all I feared, as well as all I hoped, would turn eventually on that bit of evidence. I had a long talk with the doctor that evening. At first he was disinclined to accept me, saying that he was satisfied to rest his safety on his own feeling of perfect innocence. ‘“Doctor,’’ I said, ‘‘ you are unwise. It is not always the right which is successful in law. The wrong well argued often triumphs over the right poorly presented. The prosecution will array every scrap of evidence against you. It would be madness, suicide, for you to simply rise before the court and declare your innocence, as you have now tome. ‘This is a case of life or death for you. You should rise toa full realization of it, and fight it to the last. Do not consider me too anxious to defend you,’’ I concluded, as I thought it possible he might not be satisfied to have a young and untried lawyer take hold of his case. ‘‘If you have any other preference, I will retire. It is only a form for the court to assign a lawyer in such cases, and although I offer you my best services with all my heart, I shall as willingly step down and out if you prefer a more experienced attorney.’’ He seemed to study me for a moment, and ended by extending his hand. I grasped it fervently and cordially. ‘“ Let us be friends,’’ he said warmly and with some emotion. ‘‘ God knows I need friendship and advice, and I will trust you to give me both.”’ ‘‘ What was your object in holding out so long in your determination to make your own defense?’’ I asked, after a short pause. ‘Simply the bitterness of my heart,’’ he answered earnestly. ‘‘ When Bright enumerated all the evidence he had against me a few days ago, I saw how every one would feel toward me. I realized that every hand would be raised against me, that every door of friendly counsel would be closed to me, and taking refuge in my own consciousness of innocence I felt that I would take my stand on that high ground, and with God’s justice to protect me, defy the whole world to hang me.”’ He spoke the last words with stronger emphasis, and I felt at once the wonderful superiority of the force and intellect his awful danger had sum- moned to his aid. I always did believe that the situation makes the man, and that we all alike are endowed with unknown capacities which nothing but the gravest responsibilities can command. ? Hour after hour I listened to his story, enrapt, bewildered, charmed, won by his argument and bewitched by his eloquence. Eomichook eC)