Mr. Force with his party drove directly to the City Hall.
It was still raining hard, when they arrived—so hard that when the carriage drew up before the broad flight of steps leading up to the main entrance of the building, Mr. Force, upon alighting upon the pavement, had to take out one lady at a time, and lead her under the shelter of a large umbrella up into the hall.
They found Wynnette, Elva and Rosemary, with the three younger Grandiere girls, all under the escort of Roland Bayard, waiting for them in the vestibule.
When all the party were assembled, they mustered quite a formidable company—eleven in number.
“I never was in a courthouse in all my life before! I feel just as if I was going to be tried for murder or larceny, or something, myself! I know I shall never be able to hold up my head again!” whispered Elva, in a frightened voice, to Wynnette.
“And I reckon I shall be tried for murder, if ever I get a good chance to let daylight through that foreign beat!” replied Wynnette, too mad to mend her phrases as she usually did.
“Don’t be distressed, Elva, dear! We are not going into court. This is a case to be heard in chambers,” Roland explained.
“Chambers!” echoed, in a breath, all the girls, whose only idea of chambers was bedrooms.
Before Roland could explain further, Mr. Force had come in with Odalite on his arm, and hurried the whole party up another flight of stairs and along another passage, until they reached a door at which a bailiff stood.
The latter opened the door, in silence.
The whole party entered a large and well-furnished room, where, on this cold and rainy second of April, a bright coal fire was burning in the grate. The floor was covered with a dark red carpet, the windows shaded with buff blinds, now drawn three-quarters up, because the day was dark, and the walls were lined with tall bookcases, filled with well-worn volumes, mostly bound in calf. Several library tables, loaded with folios and stationery, occupied the middle of the spacious apartment.
In a large leathern chair, at one of these tables, sat a venerable man, with white hair and a benign countenance, a judge of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia, whom, for convenience, we will call Judge Blank.
There was a grave young man standing near him, who might have been clerk or private secretary.
And seated in another armchair, at some little distance, was Col. Anglesea, looking as careless as if he were making a morning call.
He, too, seemed to be without counsel or witnesses.
Mr. Force came forward with his party, bowed to the dignitary, whom he frequently met in social life and knew very well, and saluted him with a—
“Good-morning, judge,” as if he, too, had just dropped in to make a morning call.
“Good-morning, Mr. Force,” replied his honor, rising and looking about him.
Seeing the large party who had entered the room, he turned to the young man in attendance, and said:
“O’Brien, find seats for these ladies.”
When they were all seated, Mr. Force remained standing before the judge, with only the table between them.
Col. Anglesea sat back at ease in his chair, with his chin a little elevated, playing carelessly with the charms attached to his watch chain.
There was a short pause, and then Mr. Force, laying a document on the table, said:
“Your honor, I return the writ with which I have been served. My daughter, Odalite Force, is present.”
“Take a seat, Mr. Force,” said the judge, and then, turning to the young man whom he had called O’Brien, he took from his hand a paper and began to read it to himself.
There was silence in the quiet room.
“This is not a bit like I thought it was going to be. I don’t feel at all scared now! Why, I know Judge Blank! He used to pat me on the head every time he saw me!” whispered Elva to Wynnette.
“Hush, hush! you mustn’t talk here. Yes, it is quiet enough here, for that matter! Executions are quiet nearly always. We read, ‘The execution was conducted in a quiet and orderly manner,’ and yet a man has been hung and choked to death, or perhaps a woman,” whispered Wynnette, most inconsistently talking more than the sister whom she had rebuked for breaking silence.
“Oh, Wynnette! why will you talk of such horrid, horrid things?” demanded Elva, in a frightened tone.
“Because I am thinking of the price. I am counting the cost of sending that earthworm to Hades——Hush!”
The judge had finished reading the document in his hand, and turning slowly to the respondent, said:
“Mr. Force, you are charged herein, under oath, by Col. Angus Anglesea, of Anglewood Manor, England, with having, on the twentieth of December, 18—, forcibly abducted, and for three years past and up to this present, illegally detained the person of his wife, Odalite Anglesea—otherwise Odalite Force. What have you to say to this charge?”
“I say that it is absolutely false and malicious from beginning to end! The young lady here present, to whom he so insolently refers, is my daughter, Odalite Force, a maiden and a minor, under my own immediate protection,” replied Abel Force.
“Col. Angus Anglesea will step forward,” said the venerable judge.
The colonel arose, bowed and came up to the table.
O’Brien handed him the New Testament.
He bowed again with hypocritical devotion and took the formal oath to speak “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“Col. Anglesea, will you now state the grounds upon which you claim this lady here present, Odalite Force, or Anglesea, as your wife, and charge Abel Force, her father, with forcibly abducting and illegally detaining her?” said the judge.
“I will,” replied the colonel. And he began his statement:
“Three years and four months ago, on the twentieth of December, 18—, in the Church of All Faith, in the Parish of All Faith, in the State of Maryland, I married Odalite Force, here present, daughter of Abel Force, also here present. The Rev. Dr. Peters, rector of All Faith, performed the marriage. Mr. Abel Force gave away the bride. At the end of the ceremony a madwoman burst into the church, forced her way to the altar and created a disgraceful disturbance, into the details of which I need not go. Mr. Force, with the help of some of his neighbors, seized his daughter, tore her from my arms and conveyed her to his home, where he has forcibly and illegally detained her ever since. I see one man and several young women who were witnesses of the whole transaction, and may be put upon the stand to corroborate my testimony,” concluded the colonel.
“Oh, Lord!” muttered one and all of the girls, aghast at the proposition.
“Col. Anglesea,” questioned the judge, “you say that this happened more than three years ago. Why has not this complaint been made sooner?”
“Imperative business summoned me immediately to England and detained me there. I wrote many letters to my wife, imploring her to come over to me—letters which perhaps never reached her, for she never replied to them. I then sent a messenger, the Rev. Dr. Pratt, to see her in person, and try to induce her to come over to England under his escort and join me at Anglewood, where I impatiently awaited her. But my reverend courier failed to find her where I had left her, at her father’s country seat, Mondreer, and heard that she was with her family in Washington. He came here in search of my wife, but again failed to meet her. He was told that she was traveling with her family in Canada. In short, my agent failed to find her, and returned to England from his fruitless errand.”
“Lord! how that man can lie!—I mean, what reckless assertions he can make!” said Wynnette, in a low tone, to Roland.
“I like your first way of putting it best,” muttered young Bayard.
Col. Anglesea was going on with his statement:
“I was bound to England by business, which was at the same time a most sacred duty. It is needless to go into the description of that business and duty. It has nothing to do with this case further than it held me fast from coming to this country in search of my wife; from whom I had never heard directly since our violent parting in the church. Nor did I hear any news of her until last March, when a rumor reached me that she was on the eve of marriage with a cousin of hers, a Mr. Leonidas Force, a midshipman in the United States Navy. I took measures to find out the truth about this report, and having satisfied myself of it, I set sail for New York, where I arrived only three days since. I took the first train to Washington, and reached the city yesterday morning. I inquired the address of Mr. Abel Force and went directly to his house. I was refused admittance. I asked to see my wife, but was refused the privilege.”
“Oh, Lord! how that man can lie! I mean, how he can falsify the sacred truth!” panted Wynnette.
“Stick to the first form, my dear! The terse Saxon is the strongest,” muttered Roland.
Col. Anglesea continued:
“Knowing the desperate character of the man I had to deal with——”
“Oh! just hear him talking about our gentle, lovely papa!” whispered Elva.
“Never mind! I’m putting it all down! He’s only piling up ‘wrath against a day of wrath.’ Spinning out rope enough to hang himself. I’ll give it to him! He’ll catch it!” panted Wynnette.
“Knowing, I say, the character of the man I had to deal with,” concluded Anglesea; “knowing from bitter experience that not even the holy ground of the house of God was sacred from his murderous violence——”
“Rosemary Hedge! make Roland Bayard kick that man out of the courthouse and horsewhip him in the public streets!” fiercely whispered Wynnette.
“Hush, hush, dear child! We are in the presence of the judge. Wait. I will deal with him later,” murmured young Bayard.
“Rosemary Hedge! tell Roland Bayard if he don’t kick that man out and lash him, you will never marry him!” hissed Wynnette, through her clenched teeth.
“He never asked me to,” replied Rosemary, in her tiny voice.
“Silence,” said the judge, noticing for the first time the excited whispering in the corner.
“There! I told you so! Next thing we’ll be kicked out,” muttered Wynnette, most unreasonably, since she herself had caused all the disturbance.
A dead silence fell among the group of girls while Anglesea went on with his statement:
“I applied for, and obtained, the writ of habeas corpus from your honor, ordering the abductor of my wife to bring her before you. So armed with the power of the law, I went to the house of Abel Force last night and entered it, and not a moment too soon. I found my wife standing with a young man whom I at once recognized as Mr. Midshipman Force, before a minister of the Gospel who had just pronounced the marriage benediction. I saw the writ served, and then left the house. I have no more to say but this, that I might have brought a criminal charge against her!”