Herman Cyril McNeile

“ He had gone up to interview this man Parsons, having made an appointment by telephone. The object of the interview was to demand the handing over of a certain thing. And that demand had been refused. Parsons had merely laughed at his request. So Jim had taken the revolver out of his pocket, and had warned him of his unalterable intention of killing him if the request was not complied with. And once again Parsons had laughed and, rising from his chair, had crossed to the bell.
"It was then that I shot him through the heart. Bill," said Jim quietly. ”

“ Notoriously one of the most impartial men on the bench, yet every sympathy he had was with Jim. And he felt that he was being stupidly quixotic.
"Are we to understand," he said, "that there is a woman living so devoid of every decent sense that she allows you to stand on trial for murder—a murder perpetrated as you say to save her honor—without coming forward and giving evidence?" ”

“ Let them not forget that prisoner at the bar had gone to this man's house with a loaded revolver in his pocket
And through it all Jim listened with the same grave quiet attention. Never for one instant did any hint of agitation or fear show on his face, and when the jury left to consider their verdict and he was removed he gave me one of his usual cheery smiles. They didn't take long—ten minutes to be exact—and the verdict was the only possible one, "Guilty." ”

“ All they must concentrate on was the fact that admittedly a man had been murdered, and that the only excuse for the act was an appeal to sentiment which might, he allowed, be true, but which on the other hand might be merely a lie put forward as a last despairing endeavor to mitigate a cold-blooded crime. ”

“ He had money, at least quite enough, without being actually wealthy, he had hosts of friends. So what could he have been doing?
An inspector met me, and his face was very grave. He made no attempt at beating about the bush, but came straight to the point.
"It's murder, Mr. Pollock, I'm sorry to say."
I stared at him stupidly.
"You mean that Jim—that Mr. Featherstone—is accused of murdering some one?" I said.
He nodded.
"That is what I mean, sir."
"But it's incredible," I cried angrily. "Whom is he accused of murdering?"
"A Mr. John Parsons" said the inspector. ”

“ But you know what intrigue is out there, and the man to whom they were sent is the leader of the anti-royalist clique. For years he has been working secretly to overthrow the existing monarchy; in the country he has a large following. He is utterly unscrupulous and he proposes, I know, to publish those photographs and circulate them. You see what people will say, Mr. Featherstone: that the late queen had a lover. ”

“ They took a couple of sobbing women out, and they closed the doors. And hands clenched and knees twitched, for it's a dreadful moment when a man's life is declared forfeit. They asked him if he had anything to say, and because he was white clean through he did have something to say. And it was this:
"Only one thing, my lord. That had I been in any other position in this court to-day, either in your lordship's eat or in the jury box or conducting the case for the Crown, I only hope that I should have acted with the same scrupulous fairness towards prisoner that has been accorded to me to-day." ”

“ But the bell went on ringing insistently, and I went into the sitting room.
"What is it?" I cried irritably into the receiver.
"Are you Mr. Pollock?" came a man's voice.
"I am. Who are you?"
"Vine Street speaking, sir. Can you come down here at once? Mr. Featherstone is here, and has asked for you as a legal adviser."
Into my mind there leaped at once the idea that Jim was tight and wanted me to try and fix things. ”

“ It is the safeguard of a civilized community, it is the thing to which appeal must be made. And no man, under any conditions whatever, has the right to take the law into his own hands."
It was a short case. Though technically the plea was "Not Guilty," there was no dispute over facts. And there was no drama to it even, until I put Jim himself on the witness stand. Whether he liked it or not, I was determined to run sentiment for all it was worth. And I asked him once again the question point blank:
"What was the request you made to John Parsons?" ”

“ Featherstone,' she said. 'But they're a day behind.'
"'What's happened?' I asked, staring at her, bewildered.
"She made no answer, but just took an envelope from her bag and handed it to me. I took out the contents and for a few moments I could hardly believe my eyes. There were six snapshots inside, and in every one of them there appeared my girl and I. They had been taken in Richmond Park, and subconsciously I recalled an occasional click-click that I had heard that wonderful afternoon. At that time I had hardly noticed it—put it down to a cricket or something. Now I knew. ”