The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain (Illustrated). Mark Twain
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Well, upon my word if things ain’t getting to a pretty pass when—”
The house broke into laughter, but was promptly brought to order, and meantime Mr. Allen persuaded the old lady to take her seat. Aunt Patsy continued:
“Yes, they told me that, and I know it’s true. They’re Luigi’s legs this week, but—”
“Ah, they told you that, did they?” said the Justice, with interest.
“Well, no, I don’t know that they told me, but that’s neither here nor there. I know, without that, that at dinner yesterday, Angelo was as tired as a dog, and yet Luigi wouldn’t lend him the legs to go up-stairs and take a nap with.”
“Did he ask for them?”
“Let me see—it seems to me, somehow, that—that—Aunt Betsy, do you remember whether he—”
“Never mind about what Aunt Betsy remembers—she is not a witness; we only want to know what YOU remember yourself,” said the judge.
“Well, it does seem to me that you are most cantankerously particular about a little thing, Sim Robinson. Why, when I can’t remember a thing myself, I always—”
“Ah, please go on!”
“Now how can she when you keep fussing at her all the time?” said Aunt Betsy. “Why, with a person pecking at me that way, I should get that fuzzled and fuddled that—”
She was on her feet again, but Allen coaxed her into her seat once more, while the court squelched the mirth of the house. Then the judge said:
“Madam, do you know—do you absolutely know, independently of anything these gentlemen have told you—that the power over their legs passes from the one to the other regularly every week?”
“Regularly? Bless your heart, regularly ain’t any name for the exactness of it! All the big cities in Europe used to set the clocks by it.” (Laughter, suppressed by the court.)
“How do you know? That is the question. Please answer it plainly and squarely.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Sim Robinson—I won’t have it. How do I know, indeed! How do YOU know what you know? Because somebody told you. You didn’t invent it out of your own head, did you? Why, these twins are the truthfulest people in the world; and I don’t think it becomes you to sit up there and throw slurs at them when they haven’t been doing anything to you. And they are orphans besides—both of them. All—”
But Aunt Betsy was up again now, and both old ladies were talking at once and with all their might; but as the house was weltering in a storm of laughter, and the judge was hammering his desk with an iron paper-weight, one could only see them talk, not hear them. At last, when quiet was restored, the court said:
“Let the ladies retire.”
“But, your honor, I have the right, in the interest of my clients,—to cross-exam—”
“You’ll not need to exercise it, Mr. Wilson—the evidence is thrown out.”
“Thrown out!” said Aunt Patsy, ruffled; “and what’s it thrown out for, I’d like to know.”
“And so would I, Patsy Cooper. It seems to me that if we can save these poor persecuted strangers, it is our bounden duty to stand up here and talk for them till—”
“There, there, there, do sit down!”
It cost some trouble and a good deal of coaxing, but they were got into their seats at last. The trial was soon ended now. The twins themselves became witnesses in their own defense. They established the fact, upon oath, that the leg-power passed from one to the other every Saturday night at twelve o’clock sharp. But on cross-examination their counsel would not allow them to tell whose week of power the current week was. The judge insisted upon their answering, and proposed to compel them, but even the prosecution took fright and came to the rescue then, and helped stay the sturdy jurist’s revolutionary hand. So the case had to go to the jury with that important point hanging in the air. They were out an hour and brought in this verdict:
“We the jury do find: 1, that an assault was committed, as charged; 2, that it was committed by one of the persons accused, he having been seen to do it by several credible witnesses; 3, but that his identity is so merged in his brother’s that we have not been able to tell which was him. We cannot convict both, for only one is guilty. We cannot acquit both, for only one is innocent. Our verdict is that justice has been defeated by the dispensation of God, and ask to be discharged from further duty.”
This was read aloud in court and brought out a burst of hearty applause. The old ladies made a spring at the twins, to shake and congratulate, but were gently disengaged by Mr. Wilson and softly crowded back into their places.
The judge rose in his little tribune, laid aside his silver-bowed spectacles, roached his gray hair up with his fingers, and said, with dignity and solemnity, and even with a certain pathos:
“In all my experience on the bench, I have not seen justice bow her head in shame in this court until this day. You little realize what far-reaching harm has just been wrought here under the fickle forms of law. Imitation is the bane of courts—I thank God that this one is free from the contamination of that vice—and in no long time you will see the fatal work of this hour seized upon by profligate so-called guardians of justice in all the wide circumstance of this planet and perpetuated in their pernicious decisions. I wash my hands of this iniquity. I would have compelled these culprits to expose their guilt, but support failed me where I had most right to expect aid and encouragement. And I was confronted by a law made in the interest of crime, which protects the criminal from testifying against himself. Yet I had precedents of my own whereby I had set aside that law on two different occasions and thus succeeded in convicting criminals to whose crimes there were no witnesses but themselves. What have you accomplished this day? Do you realize it? You have set adrift, unadmonished, in this community, two men endowed with an awful and mysterious gift, a hidden and grisly power for evil—a power by which each in his turn may commit crime after crime of the most heinous character, and no man be able to tell which is the guilty or which the innocent party in any case of them all. Look to your homes—look to your property—look to your lives—for you have need!
“Prisoners at the bar, stand up. Through suppression of evidence, a jury of your—our—countrymen have been obliged to deliver a verdict concerning your case which stinks to heaven with the rankness of its injustice. By its terms you, the guilty one, go free with the innocent. Depart in peace, and come no more! The costs devolve upon the outraged plaintiff—another iniquity. The court stands dissolved.”
Almost everybody crowded forward to overwhelm the twins and their counsel with congratulations; but presently the two old aunties dug the duplicates out and bore them away in triumph through the hurrahing crowd, while lots of new friends carried Pudd’nhead Wilson off tavern-ward to feast him and “wet down” his great and victorious entry into the legal arena. To Wilson, so long familiar with neglect and depreciation, this strange new incense of popularity and admiration was as a fragrance blown from the fields of paradise. A happy man was Wilson.
Chapter VI.
The Amazing Duel
A deputation came in the evening and conferred upon Wilson the welcome honor of a nomination for mayor; for the village has just been converted into a city by charter. Tom skulks out of challenging the twins. Judge Driscoll thereupon challenges Angelo (accused by Tom of doing the kicking); he declines, but Luigi accepts in his place against Angelo’s timid protest.
It was late Saturday night nearing eleven.
The judge and his second found the rest of the war party at the further end of the vacant ground, near the haunted house. Pudd’nhead Wilson advanced to meet them, and said anxiously: