Chapter XIII: One Little Slip

Judge Lawrence opened the case for the defense by assuring the jury that it would take but a few minutes to present all his evidence. The first witness counsel for the defense placed on the stand was the prisoner himself. In as few words as possible, Owen told how he had incurred the enmity of Samuel Coggswell by exposing the latter’s plot to tamper with Judge Lawrence’s mail. He explained that for the same reason he had also aroused the animosity of Carrier Smithers, of Branch X Y.

"Our next witness will be Carrier John Smithers," announced Judge Lawrence, when Owen had finished.

Smithers, sullen and hostile, glared at his questioner as the latter asked quietly: "You and Carrier Sheridan occupy adjoining rooms in a boarding house, do you not, Mr. Smithers?"

"We do."

"And you were off duty and in your room at the boarding house the day the inspectors visited the house and searched Sheridan’s trunk?"

"Yes, I was; but if you’re trying to infer--\-\-\" began the witness angrily.

"Never mind what I’m trying to infer, Mr. Smithers," interrupted the lawyer gently. "Step down, please, unless the district attorney wishes to cross-examine; I’m through with you."

He turned to the jury with, a pleasant smile. "But one more witness; then our case is finished. I shall now call Mr. Alfred Adams."

As Mr. Adams, a gray-haired, bespectacled man, took the stand, Jake Hines stared at him in astonishment. Who could this fellow be? Jake had never seen him before, and the name suggested nothing to him. He wondered what the calling of this witness could mean.

"Mr. Adams," began counsel for the defense, very softly, "will you please tell the jury what your occupation is?"

"I am a postal clerk employed at the registry window of Branch Post Office D E."

"At Branch D E. That’s the branch from which the package was mailed," explained the lawyer. "And how long have you been employed there, Mr. Adams?"

"For seventeen years," replied the gray-haired witness proudly.

"Seventeen years! That’s a long time, Mr. Adams. Have you made many mistakes in your work during that period?"

"Not a single mistake, sir," replied the postal clerk, still more proudly, and added, with a smile: "The boys at the branch call me ‘Accurate’ Adams."

"An enviable nickname," said Judge Lawrence. "Now, tell me, sir, is it your custom to weigh all letters and packages that are handed in at your window for registry?"

"Yes, sir; we are required to do that."

"It is a precaution no registry clerk overlooks?"

"Yes, sir. You see, the rules require us to see that letters and packages are sufficiently stamped before we make out a receipt for them. If the letter or package is overweight, we call the sender’s attention to the fact, and he must supply the deficient postage before we will accept it."

"I see. Then it would not be possible for a man to hand you a sealed package weighing over seven ounces, and bearing only three two-cent stamps and a ten-cent stamp for registration--you wouldn’t give him his registry receipt under such circumstances?"

"Certainly not, sir," replied the postal clerk. "The package, being sealed, would have to go as first-class mail; and if it weighed a fraction more than seven ounces it would require sixteen cents postage in addition to the registry fee."

"Thank you, Mr. Adams," said counsel for the defense, opening a wooden box and producing a small pair of official post-office scales. "Now, will you please take these scales and this watch and tell the jury how much the watch weighs?"

"Exactly five ounces, sir," replied the witness, after he had carried out these instructions.

"And now please weigh this leather watchcase, and the box it was sent in. What is their combined weight?"

"Two and a half ounces, sir."

"Thank you. So the watch, the leather case, and the box together would weigh seven and a half ounces, and if sent by first-class mail would require sixteen cents postage, and an additional ten cents for registry, would they not?"

"They certainly would."

"And the empty leather case and the box alone would require just six cents in postage?"

"Of course."

"Very good," said the lawyer, with a chuckle. "Now, take a look at this wrapper--the wrapper which was around the package from which my client is alleged to have stolen the watch--and tell the jury how many stamps you find there, Mr. Adams."

"Three two-cent stamps and a ten-cent stamp," announced the witness.

"Consequently the package, when it was handed in at your window for registry could not have contained the watch, could it, Mr. Adams?" demanded Judge Lawrence, looking triumphantly toward the jury.

"It positively could not, sir," replied the postal clerk. "Otherwise when I weighed it I should have noticed the discrepancy in postage."

"Well, for the love of Mike!" muttered Jake Hines, his face turning the color of chalk. "Gee! What a fierce break!"

Fifteen minutes later a taxicab drew up in front of the headquarters of the Samuel J. Coggswell Association, and a young man jumped out, dashed frantically into the clubhouse, and up the stairs.

"Well, Jake?" demanded Boss Coggswell, as the young man burst into the room.

"The whole thing’s busted, boss!" gasped Hines, the sweat streaming down his face. "Sheridan’s acquitted! We made a bad break not puttin’ enough stamps on the package, and they’ve got Bill Warren and the pawnbroker’s clerk on the rack now, tryin’ to make ’em squeal."

"Holy smoke!" gasped Coggswell, jumping up from his chair. "That sounds bad, Jake--very bad. Do you suppose those fellows will squeal?"

Hines nodded gloomily. "I’m afraid so, governor. That pawnbroker’s clerk is a white-livered rat; it won’t take long to break down his nerve; and Bill Warren ain’t much to be depended on when his own hide’s in danger. I’m afraid we’re in bad this time, boss--up against it for fair."

For five minutes Samuel J. Coggswell agitatedly paced the floor. Suddenly he halted and turned to Hines, a queer look on his face.

"Jake," he said, "you’re looking bad--very bad, indeed, my boy. You need a change of climate--a little trip for your health. Do you understand?"

"You mean you want me to beat it, governor?"

"Yes, at once! Better start right now to pack your suit case. If you need any money I’ll sign a check for any amount you want. The bank isn’t closed yet."

Hines nodded gloomily. "Yes, I guess you’re right. I’d better go. If those fellers squeal--and I’m pretty sure they will--New York’s no place for me just now. But how about yourself, boss? What are you goin’ to do?"

"Oh, I’ll stay, Jake--stay and face the music," replied Coggswell, a smile of resignation on his face. "As long as you’re safe, I don’t care much what happens to me."

Hines would have been more touched by this unselfishness on the part of his chief if he had not observed that the latter’s ears were wagging furiously while he spoke.