Читать книгу Old Man Tutt - Arthur Train - Страница 6

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“Gee, Mr. Tutt!” quoth Officer Gallagher, following the lawyer into the corridor. “You sure had your nerve wid you! I bet no one iver talked like that before to the ould he-devil!”

Mr. Tutt’s trembling lips drew into a wry smile. “And perhaps no one ever will again, Pat! You recall Foch’s famous dispatch to Joffre at the Battle of the Marne? ‘My right has been rolled up; my left has been driven back; my center has been smashed; I have ordered an advance from all directions.’”

“You did that, all right!” quoth the officer. “’Twas like the advice the ould criminal lawyer was afther givin’ to the young feller goin’ to court for the first time: ‘If ye’ve got a good case, harp on th’ facts; if ye’ve got a weak one, attack the law; but if ye’ve got no case at all, lambaste th’ disthrict attorney!’”

“That was the general idea,” agreed Mr. Tutt. “Have a stogie?”

The twelve good men and true, carrying their coats and hats, filed out to the jury room and took their seats around the oak table.

“Well,” announced the foreman, without even lighting his cigar, “I guess there’s not much use wastin’ time on this case. It’s clear what the judge expects us to do. Let’s take a ballot and get it over with.”

The tallies showed eleven for conviction and one for acquittal.

“Good Lord!” groaned the foreman in disgust. “Who’s the only wise man?”

“If you mean who voted for acquittal, I did,” quietly replied No. 7. “I don’t propose to help railroad any man to the electric chair. This feller Halloran didn’t have a fair trial.”

“But the judge practically told us to convict!”

“Exactly! Babson’s no right to try to dictate our verdict. We’re the only judges of the defendant’s guilt or innocence. Didn’t you hear Mr. Tutt say that it was more important to preserve the integrity of the administration of criminal justice than that any particular defendant should be acquitted or convicted?”

“Yeah, I did. And I heard the judge soak him five hundred dollars!”

No. 7 swept the circle.

“Let me ask a single question, gentlemen. How many of you honestly think this defendant had a fair trial?”

No one spoke for a full quarter minute.

“Well,” finally admitted one juror, “they did seem to be givin’ him the bum’s rush!”

“Suppose you got the same kind of bum’s rush?”

“That’s right too!”

“The whole trial was rotten!” declared No. 7 heatedly. “If men like that are to administer the laws, no one of us is safe! Why, they wouldn’t let Mr. Tutt show it was Halloran’s wedding day! No feller in God’s world would choose that anniversary to kill a man! And they never even tried [31] to pin the gun on him! If it was his, why didn’t they prove it? What’s the detective bureau for, anyhow? They had twenty thousand cops and no need to hurry!”

“You said something!” came from across the table.

“As for O’Brion,” continued No. 7, “did you hear the things he said about Halloran’s wife and baby? He’d do anything to get a conviction! Use any kind of pressure! Thomas Jefferson did say that rebellion to tyrants was obedience to God!”

“I don’t think O’Brion’s so hot!” retorted the foreman. “But that don’t mean we shouldn’t convict Halloran. He’s guilty as hell!”

“Only if you take O’Brion’s word for it!” commented someone. “But I wouldn’t believe that bastard under oath—or Babson, either! Imagine him refusin’ to charge the Declaration of Independence!”

“Gosh! Was that the Declaration of Independence?” exclaimed a fat man who was a little hard of hearing.

“O’Brion’s a louse, all right!” remarked another with feeling.

“That don’t make Halloran any less guilty, does it?” reiterated the foreman. “It’s up to us to protect society!”

At that instant through the open windows came, from the street below, the shrill cry of a newsboy: “Extry! Extry! Halloran Convicted of Murder! Jury Finds Murderer Guilty! Extry!” Others joined the chorus:

“Extry! Extry!”

“Vance Halloran Guilty of Murder in the First Degree!”

“Jury Convicts Halloran in Record Time!”

“Listen!” said No. 7. “How about that? Doesn’t it prove exactly what I say? O’Brion’s trying to force us to convict by giving out word that we’ve agreed already!”

A change had come over the face of the foreman. For a moment he seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy. He grew red, his jaw stiffened and his mustaches bristled.

“That settles it for me, by heck!” he declared. “Thomas Jefferson was right! If you fellows will back me, I’ll vote for an acquittal.”

“We will!” they chorused.

“How say you? Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?” inquired the clerk as they shuffled in and lined up at the rail.

“Not guilty,” stoutly answered the foreman.

Babson and O’Brion stared at each other. An acquittal? It was inconceivable!

“Strike the names of these men from the rolls of the Special Jury!” ordered His Honor. “They’re a disgrace to the administration of justice! The defendant is discharged! Adjourn court until tomorrow morning!”

The foreman and No. 7 stalked defiantly out of the courtroom, side by side. Pausing to light their cigarettes by one of the big pillars in the rotunda, they observed Bonnie Doon hurriedly approaching his chief.

“Excuse me, Mr. Tutt,” said he breathlessly. “Do you happen to have a dollar bill on you? I want to give the Halloran Club some ice-cream soda.”

Vance Halloran had been back on his truck for more than a month when Mr. Tutt, glancing over the paper, happened upon the following item:

Rochester, N. Y., June 5, 1937, Special to The New York Times: James Breslin, an escaped convict, wounded yesterday while resisting arrest, died last night in the Eastman Hospital after confessing various crimes. Among them was the shooting of Michael Kelly, who, he claimed, was responsible for his imprisonment. He had been unaware, he said, that Vance Halloran, truck driver for a New York evening paper, had been indicted and tried for the homicide until after the latter’s acquittal by a special jury.

“Well,” chuckled the old lawyer as he handed the paper to Bonnie Doon, “Jefferson was right—sometimes!”