There was one independent witness for the defence, in addition to the experts in photography and chains. The landlady8 of the house at which Rachel called, in the early morning, on her way home with the cab, was about five minutes in the witness-box, but in those five minutes she supplied the defence with one of its strongest arguments. It was at least conceivable that a woman who had killed her husband might coolly proceed to pack her trunk, and thereafter fetch the cab which was to remove herself and her effects from the scene of the tragedy. But was it credible9 that a woman of so much presence of mind, to whom every minute might make the difference between life and death, would, having found her cab, actually drive out of her way to inquire after a sick friend, or even a dying lover, before going home to pick up her luggage and to ascertain10 whether her crime was still undetected? Suppose it were a lover, and inquire one must: would one not still leave those inquiries11 to the last? And having made them, last or first; and knowing the grim necessity of flight; would one woman go out of her way to tell another that she "had to go abroad very suddenly, and was going for good?"
"Inconceivable!" cried the prisoner's counsel, dealing12 with the point; and the word was much upon his lips during the course of a long and very strenuous13 speech, in which the case for the Crown was flouted14 from beginning to end, without, perhaps, enough of concentration on its more obvious weaknesses, or of respect for its undoubted strength. For the prisoner's proceedings15 on the night of the murder, however, supposing she had committed it, and still more on the morning after, it would have been difficult to find a better epithet16; the only drawback was that this one had seen service in the cause of almost every murderer who ever went to the gallows—as counsel for the prosecution17 remarked in his reply, with deadly deference18 to his learned friend.
"On the other hand," he went on, wagging his eyeglasses with leisurely19 deliberation, and picking his words with a care that enhanced their effect, after the unbridled rhetoric20 of the defence—"on the other hand, gentlemen, if criminals never made mistakes, inconceivable or not as we may choose to consider them—if they never made those mistakes, they would never stand in that dock."
It was late on the Saturday afternoon when the judge summed up; but a pleasant surprise was in store for those who felt that his lordship must speak at greater length than either of the counsel between whom he was to hold the scales. The address from the bench was much the shortest of the three. Less exhaustive than the conventional review of a complicated case, it was a disquisition of conspicuous21 clearness and impartiality22. Only the salient points were laid before the jury, for the last time, and in a nutshell, but with hardly a hint of the judge's own opinion upon any one of them. The expression of that opinion was reserved for a point of even greater import than the value of any separate piece of evidence. If, said the judge, the inferences and theory of the prosecution were correct; if this unhappy woman, driven to desperation by her husband, and knowing where he kept his pistols, had taken his life with one of them, and afterwards manufactured the traces of a supposititious burglary; then there was no circumstance connected with the crime which could by any possibility reduce it from murder to manslaughter. The solemnity of this pronouncement was felt in the farthest corner of the crowded court. So they were to find her guilty of wilful23 murder, or not guilty at all! Every eye sped involuntarily to the slim black figure in the dock; and, under the gaze of all, the figure made the least little bow—a movement so slight and so spontaneous as to suggest unconsciousness, but all the more eloquent24 on that account.
Yet to many in court, more especially to the theatrical25 folk behind the man with the white hair, the gesture was but one more subtle touch in an exhibition of consummate26 art and nerve.
"If they do acquit27 her," whispered one of these wiseacres to another, "she will make her fortune on the stage!"
Meanwhile the judge was dealing at the last with the prisoner's evidence in her own behalf, and that mercifully enough, though with less reticence28 than had characterized the earlier portions of his address. He did not think it possible or even desirable to forget that this was the evidence of a woman upon trial for her life. It must not be discredited29 on that account. But it was for the jury to bear in mind that the story was one which admitted of no corroboration30, save in unimportant details. More than that he would not say. It was for them to judge of that story as they had heard it for themselves, on its own merits, but also in relation to the other evidence. If the jury believed it, there was an end of the case. If they had any reasonable doubt at all, the prisoner was entitled to the full benefit of that doubt, and they must acquit her. If, on the other hand, the facts taken together before and after the murder brought the jury to the conclusion that it was none other than the prisoner who had committed the murder—though, of course, no one was present to see the act committed—they must, in duty to their oaths, find her guilty.
During the judge's address the short November day had turned from afternoon to night, and a great change had come over the aspect of the dim and dingy31 court. Opaque32 globes turned into flaring33 suns; incandescent34 burners revealed unsuspected brackets; the place was warmed and lighted for the first time during the week. And the effect of the light and warmth was on all the faces that rose as one while the judge sidled from the bench, and the jury filed out of their box, and the prisoner disappeared down the dock stairs for the last time in ignorance of her fate. Next moment there was the buzz of talk that you expect in a theatre between the acts, rather than in a court of justice at the solemn crisis of a solemn trial. It was like a class-room with the master called away. Hats were put on again in the bulging36 galleries; hardly a tongue was still. On the bench a red-robed magnate and another in knee-breeches exchanged views upon the enlarged photographs which had played so prominent a part in the case; in the well the barristers' wigs37 nodded or shook over their pink blotters and their quill38 pens; gentlemen of the Press sharpened their pencils and indulged in prophecy; and on their right, between the reporters and the bench, the privileged few, the literary and theatrical elect, discussed the situation with abnormal callousness39, masking emotion with a childlike cynicism of sentiment and phrase.
And for once the stranger in their midst, the man with more outward distinction than any one of them, the unknown man with the snowy hair, could afford to listen to what they had to say.
"No chance, my dear man. Not an earthly!"
"I'm not so sure of that."
"Will you bet?"
"No, hang it! What a beast you are! But I thought the woman was speaking the truth."
"You heard what the judge said. Where's your corroboration? No, they ought never to have let her go into the box. I hear she insisted. But it hasn't saved anybody yet."
"The new law? Then it shows her pluck!"
"Yes, I finished it down at Westgate last week."
"Satisfied?"
"In a way. It depends so much on the cast."
"These actor-managers—what?"
"More or less. I must be off. Dining out."
"What! Not going to wait for the end of the fourth act?"
"No, I'm late as it is. Ta-ta!"
The white-haired man was amused. He did not turn round, nor, if he had, would he have known the retreating gentleman for the most eminent43 of living playwrights44; but he knew the reason for his sudden retreat. A hush45 had fallen, and some one had whispered, "They're coming!" The light-hearted chatter46 had died away on the word; perhaps it was not so light-hearted after all. But the alarm was false, there was no sign of the jury, and the talk rose again, as the wind will in a storm.
"We shall want a glass when this is over," whispered one of the pair who had argued about the case.
"And we'll have it, too, old man!" rejoined his friend.
The white-haired man was grimly interested. So this was the way men talked while waiting to hear a fellow-creature sentenced to death! It was worth knowing. And this was what the newspaper men would call a low buzz—an expectant hush—this animated47 babble48! Yet the air was charged with emotion, suppressed perhaps, but none the less distinguishable in every voice. Within earshot a perspiring49 young pressman was informing his friends that to come there comfortably you should commit the murder yourself, then they gave you the Royal Box; but his teeth could be heard chattering50 through the feeble felicity. The white-headed listener curled a contemptuous nostril51. They could joke, and yet they could feel! He himself betrayed neither weakness, but sat waiting patiently and idly listening, with the same grim jaw52 and the same inscrutable eye with which he had watched the prisoner and the jury alternately throughout the week. And when the latter at last returned, and then the former, it was the same subtle stare that he again bent53 upon them both in turn.
The jury had been absent but forty minutes after all; and their expedition seemed as ill an omen35 as their nervous and responsible faces. There was a moment's hush, another moment of prophetic murmurs54, and then a stillness worthy55 of its subsequent description in every newspaper. The prisoner was standing56 in the front of the dock, a female warder upon either hand. The lightning pencil of the new journalist had its will of her at last. For Mrs. Minchin had dispensed57 not only with the chair which she had occupied all the week, but also with the heavy veil which she had but partially58 lifted during her brief sojourn59 in the witness-box, and never once in the dock. The veil was now flung back over the widow's bonnet60, peaking and falling like a sable61 cowl, against which the unearthly pallor of her face was whiter far then that of the merely dead, just as mere62 death was the least part of the fate confronting her. Yet she had raised her veil to look it fairly in the face, and the packed assembly marvelled63 as it gazed.
Was that the face that had been hidden from them all these days? It was not what they had pictured beneath the proud, defiant64 carriage of its concealing65 veil. Was that the face of a determined66 murderess?
Beautiful it was not as they saw it then, but the elements of beauty lay unmistable beneath a white mist of horror and of pain, as a lovely landscape is still lovely at its worst. The face was a thin but perfect oval, lengthened67 a little by depth of chin and height of forehead, as now also by unnatural68 emaciation69 and distress70. The mouth was at once bloodless, sweet, and firm; the eyes of a warm and lustrous71 brown, brilliant, eloquent, brave—and hopeless!
Yes, she had no hope herself! It was plain enough at the first glimpse of the deadly white, uncovered face, in the cruel glare of gas. But it became plainer still as, with sad, unflinching eyes, she watched and listened while, for the last time, the jurymen answered to their names.
Now they were done. The foreman shifted nervously72 in his place. In the overstrain of the last dread73 pause, the crowded court felt hotter and lighter74 than ever. It seemed to unite the glare of a gin palace with the temperature of a Turkish bath.
"Gentlemen, are you greed upon your verdict?"
"We are."
"Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?"
"Not guilty."
There was a simultaneous gasp75 from a hundred throats—a distinct cry from some. Then the Clerk of Arraigns76 was seen to be leaning forward, a hand to his ear, for the foreman's voice had broken with excitement. And every soul in court leaned forward too.
But this time his feelings had a different effect upon the excited foreman.
Dead silence then, while the clock ticked thrice.
"And that is the verdict of you all?"
"Of every one of us!"
The judge leant back in his place, his eyes upon the desk before him, without a movement or a gesture to strike the personal note which had been suppressed with such admirable impartiality throughout the trial. But it was several moments before his eyes were lifted with his voice.
"Let her be discharged," was all he said even then; but he would seem to have said it at once gruffly, angrily, thankfully, disgustedly, with emotion, and without any emotion at all. You read the papers, and you take your choice.
So Rachel Minchin was supported from the court before the round eyes of a hundred or two of her fellow-creatures, in the pitiable state of one who has been condemned78 to die, and not set free to live. It was as though she still misunderstood a verdict which had filled most faces with incredulity, but none with an astonishment79 to equal her own. Her white face had leaped alight, but not with gladness. The pent-up emotion of the week had broken forth3 in an agony of tears; and so they half led, half carried her from the court. She had entered it for the last time with courage enough; but it was the wrong kind of courage; and, for the one supreme80 moment, sentence of life was harder to bear than sentence of death.
In a few minutes the court was empty—a singular little theatre of pale varnish81 and tawdry hangings, still rather snug82 and homely83 in the heat and light of its obsolete84 gas, and with as little to remind one of the play as any other theatre when the curtain is down and the house empty. But there was clamor in the corridors, and hooting85 already in the street. Nor was the house really empty after all. One white-haired gentleman had not left his place when an attendant returned to put out the lights. The attendant pointed86 him out to a constable87 at the door; both watched him a few moments. Then the attendant stepped down and touched him on the shoulder.
The gentleman turned slowly without a start. "Ah, you're the man I want to see," said he. "Was that the Chief Warder in the dock?"
"Him with the beard," said the attendant, nodding.
"Well, give him this, and give it him quick. I'll wait up there till he can see me."
And he pressed his card into the attendant's palm, with a couple of sovereigns underneath88.
"Wants to see the Chief Warder," explained the attendant to the constable at the door.
"Name of Steel," whispered the other, consulting the card, as the gentleman advanced up the steps toward them, the gaslight gleaming in his silver hair, and throwing his firm features into strong relief.
"And not a bad name for him," said the constable at the door.
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收听单词发音
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1
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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urbane
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| adj.温文尔雅的，懂礼的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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7
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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9
credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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flouted
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| v.藐视，轻视( flout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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17
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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19
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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21
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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22
impartiality
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| n. 公平, 无私, 不偏 | |
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23
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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24
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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25
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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acquit
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| vt.宣判无罪；(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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discredited
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| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
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corroboration
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| n.进一步的证实，进一步的证据 | |
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31
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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32
opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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33
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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35
omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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36
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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37
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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38
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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39
callousness
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40
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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41
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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42
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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43
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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playwrights
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| n.剧作家( playwright的名词复数 ) | |
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45
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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46
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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47
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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48
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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49
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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50
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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51
nostril
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| n.鼻孔 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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53
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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54
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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55
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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56
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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57
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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58
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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59
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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60
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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61
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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62
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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emaciation
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| n.消瘦，憔悴，衰弱 | |
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70
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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72
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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73
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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74
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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75
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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76
arraigns
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| v.告发( arraign的第三人称单数 )；控告；传讯；指责 | |
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77
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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78
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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79
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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80
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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81
varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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82
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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83
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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84
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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85
hooting
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 )； 倒好儿； 倒彩 | |
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86
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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87
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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88
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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