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A. Sometimes for a small stake just enough to make it interesting. Q. Are you familiar with the house in which Mr. Darrow was murdered? A. I have only such knowledge of it as I acquired at the examination immediately after the murder. You will remember I entered but the one room. Q. And the grounds about the house? Surely you examined them? A. On the contrary, I did not.
Fenwick had scarcely begun before Mr. Sheriff How broke in on him, and argued with him concerning the murder of Sir Edmund. "As for Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey," cried Mr. Fenwick, "I protest before God that I never saw the man in my life." "For my part," said the Sheriff, "I am of opinion that you had a hand in it."
What is he accused of? 'Murder, Socrates. Then Euthyphro explains the case, which quaintly illustrates Greek civilisation. Euthyphro's father had an agricultural labourer at Naxos. One day this man, in a drunken passion, killed a slave.
We legislate on the assumption that no man may be killed on the strength of a demonstration that he would be happier in his grave, not even if he is dying slowly of cancer and begs the doctor to despatch him quickly and mercifully. To get killed lawfully he must violate somebody else's right to live by committing murder. But he is by no means free to live unconditionally.
When I read what had happened how he was accused of murder, and while declaring his innocence had been silent as to all those events which might have proved it, my heart went out to him in a wave of gratitude. Here was a man! A man loyal and brave and chivalrous as all men ought to be, but few are!
Would the most reckless of mortals have ventured to bring against the worst of characters such a charge, on the authority of a deceased witness, and to found on evidence so fantastic the awful accusation of murder?
Then, as if the meaning of my words had just dawned on her, she looked up and gasped: "You mean Mr. Sullivan committed the crime himself?" "I think he did." "What was it?" "It was murder," I said deliberately. Her hands clenched involuntarily, and she shrank back. "A woman?" She could scarcely form her words. "No, a man; a Mr. Simon Harrington, of Pittsburg."
Without further questioning he dismissed my patient; and when she had gone, he turned to me. "She did not murder her sweetheart, Dale" he said. "That is evident. Have you any idea who did?" And so I told him of that other young man. Sir John Harmon, who had come to me the night before. When I had finished. Drake stared at me stared through me and suddenly turned on his heel.
When he thought it was for him, I was just on the verge of telling him different when you came in and stopped me. You looked so much like your mother I thought Constance had taken to walking down here daytimes instead of back and forth in my room at night. "I suppose," Miriam went on, in a strange tone, "that I've killed him that there's murder on my hands as well as hate in my heart.
However, the daughter's information would no doubt be valuable, and his next care must be to find her and learn her story. She might of course save him the trouble by herself coming forward. She would be almost certain to see an account of the murder in the papers, and even if not, her father's disappearance would inevitably lead her to communicate with the police.
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