At this moment there was a slight movement at the door, and Leonidas Force entered the room, advanced and bowed to the judge, and then handed a written paper to the father of Odalite.
Mr. Force took the paper, read it, started, and passed it on to the judge.
His honor took it, read it slowly, and laid it on the table before him.
Mr. Force had resumed his seat.
Col. Anglesea remained standing immediately in front of the judge.
Le stood a little to the right, near the end of the table.
There was silence for a few moments.
Col. Anglesea was the first to speak again.
“In view of the evidence that I have offered to prove that I am the legal husband of Odalite Anglesea, here present, I pray your honor that my wife be delivered into my custody, or if such may not be, then into that of the sheriff, or of some other person whom I can trust.”
“Col. Anglesea,” began the judge, speaking very slowly and deliberately, “what did you say was the date of your first wife’s death?”
“The twenty-fifth of August, as you may see by the obituary notice in your possession.”
“Ah! but in what year?”
The colonel’s well-guarded face changed. He seemed disturbed, but quickly recovered himself, and answered:
“Oh! why, in the year 18—, the same year, of course, as well as the same month, in which I have been accused of having married the California widow—which, as I am not endowed with ubiquity, is impossible.”
“You say, then, that your first wife died on August 25, 18—?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“On what date was this notice inserted, and in what paper?”
“In the London Times of the twenty-sixth. It is usual, I believe, to publish the obituary notice on the day after the death,” said the colonel, with great dignity, as if he considered this cross-examination rather irrelevant, if not even impertinent.
“London Times of the twenty-sixth of August, 18—?”
“Of course. Yes, your honor,” replied the colonel, scarcely able to control his annoyance.
At that moment Le drew from his breast pocket a folded newspaper, which he passed to Mr. Force, who, in turn, submitted it to the judge, saying respectfully:
“Here, your honor, is a copy of the London Times to which reference has been made. If your honor will examine the obituary column, you will see that the notice of Lady Mary Anglesea’s death is ‘conspicuous by its absence.’”
Col. Anglesea flushed and paled visibly while the judge turned over the paper and examined it.
“I hold here a copy of the London Times of August 25, 18—, the date you mentioned as containing the obituary notice of your wife’s death; but I fail to find it in the list of such notices,” said the judge.
“Will your honor allow me to look at that paper?” inquired Anglesea, struggling, and partly succeeding, in recovering his self-control.
“Certainly,” replied the judge, and he handed it over.
“Where did this paper come from?” frowningly inquired Anglesea of Mr. Force.
The latter gentleman replied by a wave of his hand toward Leonidas Force, who still stood near the right-hand end of the table before the judge.
“I procured it from Mr. Henry Herbert, an English gentleman, whose acquaintance I made since my return from sea, and who, as I casually found out, takes the London Times, and keeps a file of it.”
“Ah!” said Col. Anglesea. “I was certainly under the strong impression that the notice of my wife’s death was inserted in the Times of the day after the occurrence; but, as I really had nothing to do with the matter myself—such matters are usually attended to by the family solicitor, minister, or some other than the chief mourner—I could not have been certain, and should not have undertaken to give the precise date, as to which I must have been mistaken. And now that I reflect upon the matter, I remember that Lady Mary Anglesea died at Anglewood Manor at precisely 11:53 P.M., on the twenty-fifth, and, of course, the notice could not have reached London in time for insertion in the issue of the Times of the twenty-sixth. It may have first appeared in the issue of the twenty-seventh, or even of the twenty-eighth, and it may have never appeared in the Times at all, but in some other paper. I do not know. I fear I took the matter so for granted that the notice appeared in the Times on the day after the death, that I spoke hastily and unadvisedly,” concluded the colonel, with that air of candor he could so well assume.
“But you must remember from what paper you cut the notice that you have so carefully preserved,” suggested the judge.
“I did not cut it from any. There, again, is another reason why I cannot be sure of the date, or even of the name of the paper in which it was inserted. A thoughtful friend of the family—I do not remember who, whether it was our rector or some other—cut it out and gave it to me as a memento some days after the funeral. But, your honor, it seems to me that the date of the publication of the notice of the death is of very little consequence, as the fact remains that the event occurred on the twenty-fifth of August, 18—, while the marriage with which I am charged is said to have taken place on the first of the same month, which, if it did, was clearly illegal and of no effect, and constitutes no barrier to the marriage with Odalite, my present wife, which was solemnized at All Faith in the December following. But I say, on the contrary, that the marriage which I myself witnessed and arrested in the house of Mr. Abel Force, yesterday, April 1st, between Odalite Anglesea and Leonidas Force, was illegal, criminal and felonious; and I might now bring my wife before the criminal court on the charge of bigamy.”
“Col. Anglesea, you will do well to remember that this is not a criminal court, nor are we investigating a criminal charge. And govern yourself accordingly,” said the judge, speaking for the first time with great severity in tone and look.
Angus Anglesea bowed and was silent.
“As this question of my daughter’s freedom to contract marriage has been raised, your honor, I will crave your indulgence while I call your attention to this paper which I hold in my hand. It is a copy of the Angleton Advertiser, of August 20th, and contains an obituary notice to the ‘late Angus Anglesea, of Anglewood, colonel,’ etc., etc., with a sketch of his life and career, and a high eulogium of his character. This paper appears to be the organ of his family, published in his own town of Angleton, and on his manor of Anglewood, and should be some authority in their affairs. And yet it publishes the death of the master of the manor, who stands living before us. Even if my daughter had been, as she certainly never was, the wife of Angus Anglesea, such evidence as this—appearing to be true, though it was false—of the death of the man whom she had not seen for more than three years, or since her incomplete marriage with him was broken off at the altar by the appearance of his wife, would have seemed to leave her free to contract marriage without a shade of reproach. This paper was sent to me through the English mails, in duplicates, the first of which reached me in September, and was soon after forwarded to his wife, Mrs. Ann Maria Anglesea, at Mondreer. The second came three days later. Will your honor look at it?”
The judge took it, slowly examined the obituary notice and glowing eulogium of the late Col. Angus Anglesea, of Anglewood Manor, etc., etc., looked in amazement from the death notice to the living subject, and then laying down the sheet, with a frown, said:
“Mr. Force, this extraordinary publication has nothing whatever to do with the case in hand.”
Abel Force bowed in submission and sat down. His point, however, was gained. The judge had seen the paper, and could not help drawing his own conclusions.
Judge Blank then arose to give his decision, and said:
“Col. Angus Anglesea, it is not necessary to enter very deeply into the merits of this case. You have failed to prove any marital rights over the person of Odalite Anglesea, otherwise Odalite Force. I, therefore, remand her, as a minor, into the custody of her father, and I dismiss the case. Mr. Force, you can take your daughter away.”
Abel Force bowed deeply to the judge, and walked toward the group of ladies who were anxiously awaiting him.
Col. Anglesea stepped aside to let him pass, but hissed in his ear:
“There are other tribunals. And yet I will have my wife!”
Abel Force disdained reply, but gave his arm to Odalite, and told Le to give his to Mrs. Force.
And so they left the presence of the judge.