The Red Book Magazine/Volume 9/Number 3/The Bride and the Bribe

by Hugh Pendexter

 

The Bride and the Bribe

BY HUGH PENDEXTER

Author of “Tiberius Smith,” etc.

He had never appreciated just how serious his position was until the district-attorney opened the case for the prosecution. His friends had seen to it that he was equipped with the best counsel in that part of the state, but, heretofore, he had viewed things numbly; it wasn't real. He had never solicited or taken a bribe, he repeated to himself; no twelve men would ever hesitate to accept his word for his innocence—Good God! some of them believed it already. Else why did they eye him so curiously? Ten years in prison! Could it be! Could it be! And yet, innocent men had been sent there.

“Rokeman,” he whispered through his parched lips, “tell me! Is there any danger?”

His attorney paused in casting a contemptuous smile at the district-attorney's broad back, indulged in solely to impress the fifth juror, who was listening too intently, and murmured:

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“Give me a chance. I'll fix it all right”

“Mr. Reith, I'm earning my money. Of course, they believe the D.A:, but wait until I've had a say. It's going to be a tough one. They've got to have a sacrifice. You're the goat. The D.A.'s election next fall depends on his nailing a conviction.”

And the sweat stood out on the defendant's brow, each drop an agony of apprehension. “Ten years,” he mumbled, trying to remember how much he had heard say would be deducted for good behavior. Ten years! As complete an annihilation as a million. The bare conviction would ruin him, blast him, and leave a scar on his soul all eternity could not wear away.

The audience enjoyed it. It was a fit ting climax to the town's spasmodic period of virtue.

One dull day a newspaper had printed a little story about graft. Around the city hall it was generally believed that graft was common in various branches of the municipal government. The town, also, had known it, in a dim speculative fashion, and had come to accept it as a regular part of an official's life. Else, why did busy and successful business-men strive to be poorly paid officials? But during this particular flurry, only intended to bridge over a dull day, an ill-advised member of the common council had made a sensational speech, which all the papers felt called upon to answer. And as a result the council, as a body, as public opinion assailed and cried out, gravely decided to avert suspicion from the evil rumors clustered about the street railway franchise by voting to investigate the school board.

And with the hue and cry turned against these gentlemen the public quickly joined the chase, crying “Stop thief!” while the aldermen breathed freely and banked the franchise-bonus in their wives' names.

But the school board felt much aggrieved. The re had been malicious gossip about teachers paying money for appointments, and the public remembered it all. So, the school board resolved itself into a committee of investigation, and with out raged feelings began to look about for a scapegoat. And the little innuendo, started on a dull day by an afternoon paper, finally resulted in Townley Reith, superintendent of schools, being indicted. There was also gossip that Chris Othout, a member of this investigating committee, had been found mildly guilty; but if there was any indictment the district-attorney had tucked it away in a pigeonhole in return for the member's testimony.

And it was the speculation on what Othout would confess that attracted the audience. One thing was positive. The public demanded a conviction. The judge knew it, the jury knew it, the district attorney knew it. Ergo, as a psychological moment for Reith, it was all very bad.

And ten years! Could it be that the great, humane public would insist on a conviction? Alas, yes. At last he was awake to his peril. The jurors gazed at him with lack-luster eyes. The audience was only curious and expectant.

The fat face of Othout, streaming with nervous perspiration; the long, limp mustaches, crawling over flabby cheeks; the heavy black eyebrows, cut on the bias, all bespoke treachery and fear. He sat behind the district-attorney and followed every motion with his scared, small eyes. For although one of the pigs most industrious to keep both feet in the trough, the impetus of public opinion had frightened his porcine soul and he was ready to squeal.

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“They can't make the case, can they?” gasped Reith, between a choke and a sob, as he covered his emotion by mopping his forehead.

“Don't talk; listen!” growled Roke man, his long, angular clean-shaven face becoming distorted into more angles as he thrust out his heavy jaw and gave heed to his opponent's opening.

“Gentlemen of the jury, this is a peculiar case,” the prosecutor was saying blandly, motioning a careless hand towards the man he had so often met and chatted with. “And yet, it is easy to comprehend. For some time, it is feared, rank boodling has been going on in our beautiful city. An unwholesome plane of looting has been attained by one of those to whom we look to conserve our interests and the interests of our children. God save us against the day when grafters use our schools as a vehicle to reach their vicious goal! And yet this is such a case. We have at bar a young man of good family, with a bright future, betraying his trust.”

The prosecutor's voice grew sad.

“We find him, while employed to superintend our public school system, deliberately extorting a bribe from a young woman who desired a position as teacher. Gentleman, he sold his integrity for $300. That was the price the poor girl paid, in her anxiety to obtain a position. She was willing to pay it, not appreciating she was thus becoming a party to a felony. She was given to understand all teachers paid it. So, while we may respect the burglar and footpad, we can feel no sympathy for this—”

“If the Court please,” observed the sonorous voice of Rokeman, as he rose to to his full, scraggy height and made no attempt to readjust the old-fashioned cuff that had slipped along a bony expanse of wrist: “May I inquire if my brother is summing up, or opening his case?”

As counsel's brain and might had won many a hopeless battle in in any courts the judge was not slow to look gravely over his spectacles and suggest to the irate prosecutor:

“Perhaps, Mr. District-Attorney, you had better confine yourself more closely to what you expect to prove and omit all characterizations.”

“We've got the court, eh?” whispered Reith anxiously.

Counsel drew down his long upper lip and nodded slowly. Then behind one thin hand he said:

“Bad to interrupt the D.A. Had to do it, though. But it makes the jury suspicious we are trying to keep something covered.” Then he added, “We had a rotten panel to choose from.”

The district-attorney swallowed his chagrin and continued.

“As the learned Court suggests, I will hasten on to the material facts as we shall prove them. Incidentally, it will demonstrate how artful a seemingly upright young man can be in concealing a crime. Miss Mabel Spahl, educated at great inconvenience and sacrifice by her parents, was anxious to obtain a school in this, her home city, so she could repay those parents. She goes to Mr. Christopher Othout, a member of the school board, and makes her application. Mr. Othout, knowing her people, was interested to see her appointed. In her behalf he called on the superintendent to ascertain if there were any vacancies.

“The defendant promptly informed him there was one, but that it was worth three hundred dollars. Mr. Othout, I regret to say, did not have him arrested for soliciting a bribe; intent only on securing the appointment for the young lady, and realizing the superintendent was the only one who could influence the whole board to make the appointment, he returned to his office after saying he would 'think it over.'

“Almost immediately he was called up on the 'phone by the defendant, who asked him if he would endorse a note for three hundred dollars, as he, the defendant, was in need of that sum. Mr. Othout, of course, knew this was a direct demand for the bribe, cunningly covered. He answered, he believed he could spare the money, and for the defendant to send him the note.

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“I did not know I was committing a crime”

“On the next day, gentlemen, the note was received. Miss Spahl was in Mr. Othout's office at the time. Handing her the letter which formally repeated the request for the loan, and the note, he remarked, 'You will get your appointment.' She asked, 'Why, what does this mean?' 'It means,' replied Mr. Othout, 'that you'll be appointed and I shall cash the note.' Then she said, 'No, if there's anything to pay, I'll pay it.” That note was endorsed and discounted by the bank, the defendant on the same day receiving Mr. Othout's check. On the following Monday Miss Spahl entered the high school as a substitute teacher. At the end of three months the defendant asked to renew the note, and this was permitted. When it finally fell due it was Miss Spahl's check that took it up, while on the day before it was due she received a permanent position.

“Gentlemen,” and the district-attorney's voice sank low and soft, “Mr. Othout was a party to that crime. But he has repented and will do all he can to right the wrong. The prosecution is not ashamed to use his aid in meting out justice to that—” and an indignant finger covered the defendant. “The defense will not, I assume, contend that Mr. Othout wanted a position as teacher,” added the prosecutor with a deep sneer. “And rail as they will against his evidence, he is a repentant man, gentlemen; and all doubt is cleared away as to his part in the transaction when I shall submit for your inspection the young lady's check for three hundred dollars, which the bank officials will testify was used to take up the defendant's paper.”

Othout was then called as the first witness

Before he could answer a question Rokeman was on his feet, his long Prince Albert pulling awkardly away at the neck, making preliminary objections. He was curious to know how long since a party to conspiracy could be allowed, without corroboration, to testify against an alleged partner in the crime.

“If the Court please, this witness is a self confessed briber. To such base needs has the prosecution descended. This court will certainly not receive his evidence, so far as it has to do with Miss Spahl, as the district-attorney concedes she knew nothing of the alleged conspiracy and bribe until after all the plans had been laid. And with that eliminated he stands absolutely without corroboration.”

“We shall call Miss Spahl to testify as I have outlined,” smiled the prosecutor. “We can prove only one thing at a time.”

Rokeman began to quote authorities. But sandwiched in between all the cases cited was a fiery string of invective directed against the witness. The district-attorney did not awaken to his opponent's purpose until after that angular-individual had succeeded in creating a grave doubt in the jury's mind at the outset of the case. Then the district-attorney became angry and tried to retort in kind, but counsel for the defense drew up his tall form and haughtily observed that he was in the habit of arguing questions of law without resorting to rowdyism; and the Court gasped, while the district-attorney endeavored to find words adequate to express his feelings.

'Where a conspiracy is charged,” said the Court, interrupting the wrangle, “as in this case, I shall hold it proper to show all the acts and conversations of any of the parties thereto, as relating to any one alleged to have been concerned in the crime.”

Then the witness, almost entitled to pity as he squirmed while the prosecution slowly extracted the whole shameful story, told all that had been forecast in the opening.

“How does it look?” whispered the defendant, as the district-attorney sat down.

“Rotten,” muttered counsel, rising to take his turn at the victim.

And Othout's story had had a strong effect on the twelve men, as was indicated each time a juror slowly turned his head and stared coldly at the crimson faced defendant. It was all so hideously naked in its shamelessness that it was hard to believe the man was lying.

Then the cross-examination was begun. Never before had the frequenters of the courtroom seen a man so_ thoroughly flayed. He was tortured until he groaned an affirmative when asked if he were not a briber. The same when asked if he had not committed perjury when he went be fore the grand jury and told two different stories on as many occasions. He confessed he had first sworn before the jury that the loan was a simple business transaction, and again that it was a bribe.

“You did not tell the grand jury that it was a bribe until you had learned the district-attorney had obtained possession of the Spahl check, did you?” thundered counsel.

The witness admitted this was the case.

“And the district-attorney then told you, you could clear yourself only by convicting Mr. Reith, eh?”

“He said I must tell all.”

“He threatened you if you didn't, eh?”

“I don't know that it was exactly a threat.”

“And yet you knew that unless the defendant had accepted a bribe you were guilty of grand larceny in taking this girl's money, didn't you?”

The witness gasped and fidgetted spasmodically, but counsel was obdurate, and at last he admitted he had realized he would be prosecuted for grand larency if the defendant was not prosecuted for bribery.

“And to save your pelt you have concocted this story,” added counsel in his deepest bass.

“I object,” cried the district-attorney.

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“May I inquire if my brother is summing up or opening the case?”

The Court admonished counsel for the defense to proceed in an orderly manner

“You deny the defendant paid you the three hundred dollars?”

The witness did, and this ended his ordeal.

The district-attorney was also glad it was over, for ordinarily, he was not compelled to work with such dirty tools. Then followed the officers of the bank, who swore the check was presented by Othout the day the note was due, and was applied to it. Members of the school board, rather non-committal, and all horrified to think graft had crept into their midst, but each denying any knowledge of the transaction, followed in quick succession. The orderly sequence of the evidence would have required that Miss Spahl be called next.

“I had intended to call the young lady this afternoon,” explained the district-attorney, “but she has been absent from town and has but just returned. I shall call her the first thing to-morrow.”

“Will the jury believe Othout?” demanded the defendant desperately, at the close of the session.

“No,” replied counsel slowly, “not if he were weighed alone against you. But if this girl gives any color to his story by admitting she gave him three hundred dollars for the position, the jury will satisfy the public clamor for some one's head, and will try to believe he procured the bribe for you, and they will convict, as you are the only one on trial.”

“Poor Mabel,” groaned the defendant.

“What!” roared counsel, so loudly as to cause several of the departing throng to pause and turn.

“I love her; that's all,” finished the defendant wearily, and with no trace of embarrassment.

“Jumping catfish, young man! Does she know you feel tenderly toward her?”

“Yes.”

“Fools! Two of 'em! Yes, three of us! Come!”

And counsel's long form began striding toward the door With his client in close tow.

 

The seating capacity of the courtroom Was exhuusted long before the court convened the next morning. It was seldom that a young and attractive woman took the stand to confess she had been compelled to bribe in order to obtain a chance to earn a livelihood. It was seldom that a man of culture could be found who would extort money from a woman. And the price was so pitiably small.

M<iss Spahl, therefore, was the focusing point of all eves as she rose from her chair, and with a red spot lighting each cheek passed to the stand. It surprised the prosecution that the defense made no technical objection when the district-attorney kindly asked her to tell all she knew of the note transaction. She related how she had gone to Othout to apply for a position, and how he had subsequently sent for her and had shown her a letter and a note.

“I did not see the name signed to the letter, or the note,” she explained; “nor did he tell me whom it was from. The letter was typewritten. I remember observing the numerals '300.'

The defense smiled, although it helped but little, her not seeing the name, as the letter and note were in evidence and presumably were the only ones she could have seen.

“He told me the man who could give out the appointment demanded money and that other teachers had paid it and that there were several on the waiting-list ready to do so. He said the man would give a note and that he would carry it until I had earned enough to pay it. I did not know it was bribery. I—I did not know I was committing a crime. I only thought it was too bad a man would take such an advantage of a poor girl. So, I submitted to what I thought was the inevitable and promised to pay as soon as I had earned the money. My salary was fifty dollars a month while a substitute, and sixty dollars a month thereafter.

When the six months were up I handed Mr. Othout my check for three hundred dollars and he said he would see the man got it.”

The district-attorney was triumphant. But the first query from the defense came as a bombshell.

“What is your real name?” asked counsel.

“Mrs. Townley Reith,” replied the witness with flaming cheeks.

Not only was it a bombshell to the prosecution, but to the court, and audience.

“How long have you been engaged to marry the defendant?”

“For several months prior to securing my position in the high school,” said the witness.

“What!” cried the district-attorney, scowling blackly at the little figure. “Then, pray tell us, Mrs. Reith, why you didn't ask him for a position instead of going to Mr. Othout!”

“While you have no right to cross-examine your own witness, or impeach her, I will not object,” grinned Rokeman.

“Under these extraordinary circumstances I consider her an unwilling witness,' declared the heated district attorney.

“You are mistaken,” assured Rokeman. “You will find her most willing. If it were not so, you could never have had her testimony, as the law in this state does not require a wife to testify against her husband and also does not hold that a husband and wife can form a conspiracy.” Then to give the proper touch of sentiment and send the reeling jury toward an acquittal, he continued: “For, from time out of mind, man and woman united in wedlock have been held to be one in the eyes of the law, and one person cannot conspire with himself.”

“The witness may answer if she cares to,” said the judge, his kindly old eyes lighting with interest as he gazed intently at the flushed face.

“I do, sir,” she replied bravely. “I went to Mr. Othout as I knew Mr. Reith would be prejudiced in my favor. I wanted the request to come from a disinterested person, and then he could appoint me without feeling he had been unduly influenced by—by—”

“We understand,” nodded the court gravely.

“Why, sir, he didn't even know I wanted a school here,” continued the witness. “He thought I was to teach in a neighboring town. So, I also planned it as a pleasant surprise for him. He had told me he had had some trouble with members of the board, and I didn't want to embarrass him. When Mr. Othout told me I must pay three hundred dollars I thought it was to one of them with whom he had had—”

“Never mind what you thought,” protested the district attorney.

“Don't interrupt the witness,” cautioned the judge. “Proceed.”

“—he had had trouble with. I didn't dare tell him of the demand, for I knew he would be—”

“If the Court please, must we listen further to the conjectures of the witness?” demanded the district-attorney.

“You first objected to what she thought: now you object to what she says she knows,” smiled Rokeman.

The court waved a hand and commanded, “Proceed.”

“I knew he would be terribly angry and do something that might lose him his place,” she added, meeting the district attorney's eyes stoutly.

“Why did you keep your engagement secret?” asked the district attorney coldly.

“We were both poor and it promised to be a long engagement,” she said simply. “After I got my school we knew some might say he had showed partiality to me if it were announced.”

“When were you married?”

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“He did not notice me approach”

The witness blushed, but answered, “Last night.”

“Then the long engagement terminated quickly,” observed the district-attorney sarcastically.

“His lawyer said it would help him,” she said honestly.

And the court and audience and jury, all but the district-attorney, gave way to the relaxation and laughed without restraint. Even the long, sallow face of the defendant's counsel, crimpled into a lean smile.

“Quite a matchmaker,” sneered the district-attorney. Then he quickly asked: “Why didn't you announce your engagement when he was indicted?”

“He told me not to,” the witness replied with no hesitation. “He said the charge was so ridiculous—”

“Never mind! That's not material,” interrupted the prosecution.

“—that it was not necessary and would only make it disagreeable for me. Even after I was called before the grand jury he told me it would amount to nothing and he would never be indicted and brought to trial. He told me to leave town, go visiting, and I did. When I read in the papers that the case was on trial, and the district-attorney wanted me as a witness I returned.”

Then she asked a little doubtfully: “There is something else I could tell--something I had forgotten until now. It doesn't amount to much, perhaps. Would it be right?”

“Go on,” said the Court.

“On the day before the note was due, when I called to give Mr. Othout the check, he was counting a roll of twenty dollar bills. There were fifteen. His office door was open and I made so little noise he did not notice me approach, I guess. I couldn't help but see he had fifteen of them.”

Othout, meantime, had struggled valiantly with his collar. Obviously his collar was too small for him, else why the beads of perspiration glistening on his forehead and under his shifting eyes? He avoided the occasional glances of the district-attorney, who also seemed to be suffering from too tight a collar, else why the rush of blood to his cheeks during the witness' simple account of her part in the transaction 1n question?

The defense called but one witness, the defendant. He said he had borrowed the money in good faith and had repaid it in twenty-dollar bills on the day before the note was due.

This finished the evidence. Rokeman contented himself with observing, in lieu of a summary, that no man was despicable enough to rob his sweetheart, even if hungry to starvation for graft. The district attorney lamely assembled what was left of his case and insisted on a conviction.

The Court was content to remark, “Gentlemen, you may retire.”

Immediately a verdict of “not guilty” was returned, and the judge beamed on, and shook hands with, the bride.

As for her she blushed and let fall her eyes. It was perplexing enough, all this fuss over the matter. She wished she really understood it.

“Come to my office,” commanded the district-attorney to Othout. Once there the prosecutor pulled out an indictment and remarked: “I can't proceed against you on this, as your testimony cannot now be used against you. But unless those little rake-offs from the three teachers in the grammar-grades are returned quietly and without attracting attention and within twenty-four hours, the next grand jury will start things stirring. You hear me, Christopher?”

“Yes, yes,” mumbled Othout humbly. “Gi' me a chance. I'll fix it all right.”

“Oh yes, you're a fine fixer,” growled the district-attorney, scowling after the vanishing form.