"Miss Bertha Lund," called Badger. She arose, the same tidy, buxom maiden as ever, but pale and with traces of tears. An oath was administered and the young woman motioned to the witness-box.
"How long have you been a servant in the Arnold house, Miss Lund?" asked Badger, who was conducting the case for the government.
"Going on six years."
"And you have known the prisoner all this time?"
"Of course."
"You were in at the time of the fire, on Sat.u.r.day?"
"I was."
"And gave the alarm, did you not?"
"I did."
Bertha"s rising inflection had hardly varied in the last three answers, and her blue eyes were riveted on the lawyer"s.
"Won"t you tell the court how you were occupied prior to your discovery of the fire?"
Thus directed, Bertha half-inclined her person toward the judge.
"Part of the time I was dusting the study and part of the time I was upstairs."
"What were you doing upstairs?"
"Nothing, except looking out of the window into the street."
"What window?"
"Mr. Robert"s."
"And what street?"
"Cazenove street."
"Was any one else in the house at that time?"
"Not after Ellen went out."
"You are sure Ellen had gone out?"
"Well, what do you mean by sure?"
"What made you think she had gone out?"
"She told me she was going out. She was dressed in her street dress and I heard the door slam. That"s three reasons."
"You heard the door slam? The front door, I suppose? There is only one door?"
"No, there"s the back door, leading into the pa.s.sageway."
"And where does the pa.s.sageway lead?"
"Why, it runs alongside the house from Cazenove street to Broad."
The district attorney diverted attention for a moment by making his way to his seat through the crowd. He was the opposite of Badger in everything; the one burly and slack, but with the stamp of moral energy in his bearing; the other immaculate from cravat to cuff borders and athletic if slight in build.
"Was it the back door or the front door you heard slam, Miss Lund?" resumed Badger, continuing to confer in an undertone with the district attorney.
"It was the back door, sir, I suppose."
"Aren"t you sure?"
"Pretty sure."
"Wasn"t it probably the front door?"
"No, it was the back door, I"m positive."
"Then Ellen went out of the back door and left you and Floyd alone in the house?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Robert and I were the only ones in."
"Just when was this slamming of the door, at what time? With reference, I mean, to your own movements and the movements of others in the house?"
"Well, I was up stairs and down, in and out, and Mr. Robert was in the study. I couldn"t tell you just when."
"Very well----"
"And, if it"s not improper, I wish to say that I am not here of my own choosing, for as sure as my name is Bertha Lund, Robert Floyd never set that fire."
This sally was received in silence by the spectators. They looked expectantly toward the judge and the attorneys. Floyd"s look was as spirited and firm as ever, as he scanned the faces packed around him, nodding to a lady in the front bench, but letting his eyes dwell oftenest, with a kind of interrogative look, followed by an expression of soft satisfaction, on a younger face. It was golden-haired Emily Barlow, transfixed with interest in the proceedings. Not even the dark visage of the negro in the corner stood out so cameo-like from the mult.i.tude as hers, partly by its sweetness of beauty, but more by the parted lips and eager gaze.
"The witness is not to volunteer opinions, but simply to give the facts she is requested to give, clearly and truthfully, as her oath requires." This reproof was not harshly spoken by the judge. "You may continue, Mr. Badger."
"Mr. Floyd was in the study, then?"
"Yes, sir, he was."
"Where the fire started?"
"It started in the study."
"Will you describe to the court, without any omissions, everything you did and everything you saw Mr. Floyd do from the time he opened the study door until you descended the stairway and discovered the room afire?"
"Well, sir, when Mr. Robert unlocked the door----"
"Which door?"
"The study."
"It had been locked, then?"
"Yes, sir; Mr. Robert had locked it after the professor died."
"Which was on Tuesday?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go on with your story."
"After Mr. Robert opened the study door he was acting lonesome. I went in and said, "Shall I dust the room, Mr. Robert? It needs it." "Yes, do, Bertha," said he. "I"m expecting a lawyer. Is Ellen in?" "She was going out," I answered, "but I think I heard her run upstairs to her room." Well, I went for the duster, and when I came back Mr. Robert was standing over the hearth. "Is that you, Ellen?" he said, dazed-like and absent-minded. But when he saw it was me he only laughed."
"What was Mr. Floyd doing when you startled him?" interposed the deep ba.s.s of the district attorney, cutting short the progress of the girl"s high treble.
"Why, sir, he was stooping over."
"Over the hearth, you said?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see anything in his hands at the time?"
"Why, he was picking up little bits of paper, as though he had just torn a letter to pieces."
"Go on," said Badger, making a note of this fact.
"While I was dusting the furniture Mr. Robert went out into the professor"s chamber and brought in the canary. The poor thing hadn"t sung since the professor died. It was he who used to feed it and talk to it. But when Mr. Robert brought it into its old room and I pulled up the curtains to let in the sunshine it set up such a trilling and chirping I could hardly help crying."
"On which floor is this study?"
"The front room, one flight up."
"How high above the street? You couldn"t reach it from the sidewalk?"
"Not without a ladder."
"And you didn"t keep a ladder resting against the front of your house, usually?"
"No more usually than other folks do."
"There was no tree," asked the district attorney, "whose branches hung near the window?"
"No, sir; there was none," answered Bertha, respectfully.
"Now, the rest of your story, Miss Lund," said Badger; "the canary bird had been brought in. Did it perch on Floyd"s finger?"
"Canary birds will use their wings like other folks if they are let. No, it was brought in in the cage and the cage hung on the hook, just as it used to be."
"Why had it been removed?"
"So as to feed it," answered Bertha, triumphantly.
"Was there any other living thing in the room at this time?"
"Is a dog a living thing?" Being human, Bertha resented catechising. The temptation to answer one question by another is strong, even when one isn"t a New-Englander by birth.
"Previous to its death, it may be considered alive," answered Badger, dryly.
"Well, Sire was there."
"A dog, I presume, from your last response. Continue from the point when the cage was brought in."
"I went upstairs, as I told you before, when I had finished my dusting. Then I sat down in Mr. Robert"s room."
"Was that all you did?--to sit down?"
"Yes."
Bertha"s replies had gradually come down to monosyllabic length and it looked as if the next step might be silence. But the district attorney interposed with a nod and a smile, which worked like magic in loosening her tongue.
"Well," she continued, "I was sitting at Mr. Robert"s window when I noticed Sire"s barking. I thought it was odd if he was playing with Mr. Robert, they both took on so at the professor"s death. But it kept up and kept up, so I slipped down to see and the first thing I smelled was smoke. It was leaking out through the study keyhole and I could hear Sire barking and pawing at the k.n.o.b inside. Of course I opened the door and rushed in to save the canary, but the fire stung me so I thought I was suffocated. Sire began running around and I called for Mr. Robert, thinking he was in the room, for the smoke was hiding everything. Oh, I tell you my heart stopped when my voice came back to me all hollow in that empty house. It was then I ran down to the street."
"One moment, Miss Lund. Did you or did you not observe anything new or unusual in the room when you were engaged in dusting the chairs?"
"No, sir; I don"t remember anything unusual."
"How long were you upstairs?"
"I couldn"t say. I"m not good at guessing time. There are some folks, like Senda Wesner, seem to have a clock going in their heads, but I"m not one of them. Perhaps it was ten minutes."
"Miss Lund," the district attorney stroked his great beard, as he was apt to do in driving home a crucial question. "Can you now fix more precisely the moment of the door slam, which you say convinced you of Ellen"s departure?"
"No, sir; the door slam," Bertha touched her forehead, trying to remember, "the door slam is all mixed up with the barking and fire, so I can"t untangle it at all."
"It seems to be a part of this chain of events you have just narrated so clearly for us? You think, you thought at the time, it was Ellen leaving the house?"
"Yes, sir. It was the back door. Who else could it be? Besides, Mr. Robert was quiet. He never slammed the door."
"I simply wanted the girl"s best evidence to the fact that they were alone in the house at this time," said the district attorney.
"But the girl, Ellen, seems to have been about until the fire was set," answered the judge.