ON the third appearance of my mistress and myself before the justice, I noticed some faces in the room which I had not seen there before.Greatly to my astonishment--for the previous examinations had been conducted as privately as possible--Iremarked the presence of two of the servants from the Hall, and of three or four of the tenants on the Darrock estate, who lived nearest to the house.They all sat together on one side of the justice-room.Opposite to them and close at the side of a door, stood my old acquaintance, Mr.Dark, with his big snuff-box, his jolly face, and his winking eye.He nodded to me, when I looked at him, as jauntily as if we were meeting at a party of pleasure.
The quadroon woman, who had been summoned to the examination, had a chair placed opposite to the witness-box, and in a line with the seat occupied by my poor mistress, whose looks, as I was grieved to see, were not altered for the better.The lawyer from London was with her, and I stood behind her chair.
We were all quietly disposed in the room in this way, when the justice, Mr.Robert Nicholson, came in with his brother.It might have been only fancy, but I thought I could see in both their faces that something remarkable had happened since we had met at the last examination.
The deposition of Josephine Durand was read over by the clerk, and she was asked if she had anything to add to it.She replied in the negative.The justice then appealed to my mistress's relation, the lawyer, to know if he could produce any evidence relating to the charge against his clients.
"I have evidence," answered the lawyer, getting briskly on his legs, "which I believe, sir, will justify me in asking for their discharge.""Where are your witnesses?" inquired the justice, looking hard at Josephine while he spoke.
"One of them is in waiting, your worship," said Mr.Dark, opening the door near which he was standing.
He went out of the room, remained away about a minute, and returned with his witness at his heels.
My heart gave a bound as if it would jump out of my body.There, with his long hair cut short, and his bushy whiskers shaved off--there, in his own proper person, safe and sound as ever, was Mr.James Smith!
The quadroon's iron nature resisted the shock of his unexpected presence on the scene with a steadiness that was nothing short of marvelous.Her thin lips closed together convulsively, and there was a slight movement in the muscles of her throat.But not a word, not a sign betrayed her.Even the yellow tinge of her complexion remained unchanged.
"It is not necessary, sir, that I should waste time and words in referring to the wicked and preposterous charge against my clients," said the lawyer, addressing Mr.Robert Nicholson."The one sufficient justification for discharging them immediately is before you at this moment in the person of that gentleman.There, sir, stands the murdered Mr.James Smith, of Darrock Hall, alive and well, to answer for himself.""That is not the man!" cried Josephine, her shrill voice just as high, clear, and steady as ever, "I denounce that man as an impostor.Of my own knowledge, I deny that he is Mr.James Smith.""No doubt you do," said the lawyer; "but we will prove his identity for all that."The first witness called was Mr.Philip Nicholson.He could swear that he had seen Mr.James Smith, and spoken to him at least a dozen times.The person now before h im was Mr.James Smith, altered as to personal appearance by having his hair cut short and his whiskers shaved off, but still unmistakably the man he assumed to be.
"Conspiracy!" interrupted the prisoner, hissing the word out viciously between her teeth.
"If you are not silent," said Mr.Robert Nicholson, "you will be removed from the room.It will sooner meet the ends of justice,"he went on, addressing the lawyer, "if you prove the question of identity by witnesses who have been in habits of daily communication with Mr.James Smith."Upon this, one of the servants from the Hall was placed in the box.
The alteration in his master's appearance evidently puzzled the man.Besides the perplexing change already adverted to, there was also a change in Mr.James Smith's expression and manner.Rascal as he was, I must do him the justice to say that he looked startled and ashamed when he first caught sight of his unfortunate wife.The servant, who was used to be eyed tyrannically by him, and ordered about roughly, seeing him now for the first time abashed and silent, stammered and hesitated on being asked to swear to his identity.
"I can hardly say for certain, sir," said the man, addressing the justice in a bewildered manner."He is like my master, and yet he isn't.If he wore whiskers and had his hair long, and if he was, saying your presence, sir, a little more rough and ready in his way, I could swear to him anywhere with a safe conscience."Fortunately for us, at this moment Mr.James Smith's feeling of uneasiness at the situation in which he was placed changed to a feeling of irritation at being coolly surveyed and then stupidly doubted in the matter of his identity by one of his own servants.
"Can't you say in plain words, you idiot, whether you know me or whether you don't?" he called out, angrily.
"That's his voice!" cried the servant, starting in the box.
"Whiskers or no whiskers, that's him!"
"If there's any difficulty, your worship, about the gentleman's hair," said Mr.Dark, coming forward with a grin, "here's a small parcel which, I may make so bold as to say, will remove it."Saying that, he opened the parcel, took some locks of hair out of it, and held them up close to Mr.James Smith's head."A pretty good match, your worship," continued Mr.Dark."I have no doubt the gentleman's head feels cooler now it's off.We can't put the whiskers on, I'm afraid, but they match the hair; and they are in the paper (if one may say such a thing of whiskers) to speak for themselves.""Lies! lies! lies!" screamed Josephine, losing her wicked self-control at this stage of the proceedings.