The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (9 page)

At first I could hardly see anything, it was so dim inside. But after
a little I made out a low bed against the wall, under a small barred
window. On the bed, staring down at the floor between his feet, sat the
Hermit, his head resting in his hands.

"Well, Luke," said the Doctor in a kindly voice, "they don't give you
much light in here, do they?"

Very slowly the Hermit looked up from the floor.

"Hulloa, John Dolittle. What brings you here?"

"I've come to see you. I would have been here sooner, only I didn't hear
about all this till a few minutes ago. I went to your hut to ask you if
you would join me on a voyage; and when I found it empty I had no idea
where you could be. I am dreadfully sorry to hear about your bad luck.
I've come to see if there is anything I can do."

Luke shook his head.

"No, I don't imagine there is anything can be done. They've caught me at
last. That's the end of it, I suppose."

He got up stiffly and started walking up and down the little room.

"In a way I'm glad it's over," said he. "I never got any peace, always
thinking they were after me—afraid to speak to anyone. They were bound
to get me in the end—Yes, I'm glad it's over."

Then the Doctor talked to Luke for more than half an hour, trying to
cheer him up; while I sat around wondering what I ought to say and
wishing I could do something.

At last the Doctor said he wanted to see Bob; and we knocked upon the
door and were let out by the policeman.

"Bob," said the Doctor to the big bulldog in the passage, "come out with
me into the porch. I want to ask you something."

"How is he, Doctor?" asked Bob as we walked down the corridor into the
Court-house porch.

"Oh, Luke's all right. Very miserable of course, but he's all right. Now
tell me, Bob: you saw this business happen, didn't you? You were there
when the man was killed, eh?"

"I was, Doctor," said Bob, "and I tell you—"

"All right," the Doctor interrupted, "that's all I want to know for the
present. There isn't time to tell me more now. The trial is just going
to begin. There are the judge and the lawyers coming up the steps. Now
listen, Bob: I want you to stay with me when I go into the court-room.
And whatever I tell you to do, do it. Do you understand? Don't make any
scenes. Don't bite anybody, no matter what they may say about Luke.
Just behave perfectly quietly and answer any question I may ask
you—truthfully. Do you understand?"

"Very well. But do you think you will be able to get him off, Doctor?"
asked Bob. "He's a good man, Doctor. He really is. There never was a
better."

"We'll see, we'll see, Bob. It's a new thing I'm going to try. I'm not
sure the judge will allow it. But—well, we'll see. It's time to go into
the court-room now. Don't forget what I told you. Remember: for Heaven's
sake don't start biting any one or you'll get us all put out and spoil
everything."

INSIDE the court-room everything was very solemn and wonderful. It was a
high, big room. Raised above the floor, against the wall was the judge's
desk; and here the judge was already sitting—an old, handsome man in
a marvelous big wig of gray hair and a gown of black. Below him was
another wide, long desk at which lawyers in white wigs sat. The whole
thing reminded me of a mixture between a church and a school.

"Those twelve men at the side," whispered the Doctor—"those in pews
like a choir, they are what is called the jury. It is they who decide
whether Luke is guilty—whether he did it or not."

"And look!" I said, "there's Luke himself in a sort of pulpit-thing with
policemen each side of him. And there's another pulpit, the same kind,
the other side of the room, see—only that one's empty."

"That one is called the witness-box," said the Doctor. "Now I'm going
down to speak to one of those men in white wigs; and I want you to wait
here and keep these two seats for us. Bob will stay with you. Keep an
eye on him—better hold on to his collar. I shan't be more than a minute
or so."

With that the Doctor disappeared into the crowd which filled the main
part of the room.

Then I saw the judge take up a funny little wooden hammer and knock on
his desk with it. This, it seemed, was to make people keep quiet, for
immediately every one stopped buzzing and talking and began to listen
very respectfully. Then another man in a black gown stood up and began
reading from a paper in his hand.

He mumbled away exactly as though he were saying his prayers and didn't
want any one to understand what language they were in. But I managed to
catch a few words:

"Biz—biz—biz—biz—biz—otherwise known as Luke the
Hermit, of—biz—biz—biz—biz—for killing his partner
with—biz—biz—biz—otherwise known as Bluebeard Bill on the night
of the—biz—biz—biz—in the biz—biz—biz—of Mexico. Therefore Her
Majesty's—biz—biz—biz—"

At this moment I felt some one take hold of my arm from the back, and
turning round I found the Doctor had returned with one of the men in
white wigs.

"Stubbins, this is Mr. Percy Jenkyns," said the Doctor. "He is Luke's
lawyer. It is his business to get Luke off—if he can."

Mr. Jenkyns seemed to be an extremely young man with a round smooth face
like a boy. He shook hands with me and then immediately turned and went
on talking with the Doctor.

"Oh, I think it is a perfectly precious idea," he was saying. "Of COURSE
the dog must be admitted as a witness; he was the only one who saw the
thing take place. I'm awfully glad you came. I wouldn't have missed this
for anything. My hat! Won't it make the old court sit up? They're always
frightfully dull, these Assizes. But this will stir things. A bulldog
witness for the defense! I do hope there are plenty of reporters
present—Yes, there's one making a sketch of the prisoner. I shall
become known after this—And won't Conkey be pleased? My hat!"

He put his hand over his mouth to smother a laugh and his eyes fairly
sparkled with mischief. "Who is Conkey?" I asked the Doctor.

"Sh! He is speaking of the judge up there, the Honorable Eustace
Beauchamp Conckley."

"Now," said Mr. Jenkyns, bringing out a notebook, "tell me a little more
about yourself, Doctor. You took your degree as Doctor of Medicine at
Durham, I think you said. And the name of your last book was?"

I could not hear any more for they talked in whispers; and I fell to
looking round the court again.

Of course I could not understand everything that was going on, though it
was all very interesting. People kept getting up in the place the Doctor
called the witness-box, and the lawyers at the long table asked them
questions about "the night of the 29th." Then the people would get down
again and somebody else would get up and be questioned.

One of the lawyers (who, the Doctor told me afterwards, was called the
Prosecutor) seemed to be doing his best to get the Hermit into trouble
by asking questions which made it look as though he had always been a
very bad man. He was a nasty lawyer, this Prosecutor, with a long nose.

Most of the time I could hardly keep my eyes off poor Luke, who sat
there between his two policemen, staring at the floor as though he
weren't interested. The only time I saw him take any notice at all was
when a small dark man with wicked, little, watery eyes got up into the
witness-box. I heard Bob snarl under my chair as this person came into
the court-room and Luke's eyes just blazed with anger and contempt.

This man said his name was Mendoza and that he was the one who had
guided the Mexican police to the mine after Bluebeard Bill had been
killed. And at every word he said I could hear Bob down below me
muttering between his teeth,

"It's a lie! It's a lie! I'll chew his face. It's a lie!"

And both the Doctor and I had hard work keeping the dog under the seat.

Then I noticed that our Mr. Jenkyns had disappeared from the Doctor's
side. But presently I saw him stand up at the long table to speak to the
judge.

"Your Honor," said he, "I wish to introduce a new witness for the
defense, Doctor John Dolittle, the naturalist. Will you please step into
the witness-stand, Doctor?"

There was a buzz of excitement as the Doctor made his way across the
crowded room; and I noticed the nasty lawyer with the long nose lean
down and whisper something to a friend, smiling in an ugly way which
made me want to pinch him.

Then Mr. Jenkyns asked the Doctor a whole lot of questions about himself
and made him answer in a loud voice so the whole court could hear. He
finished up by saying,

"And you are prepared to swear, Doctor Dolittle, that you understand the
language of dogs and can make them understand you. Is that so?"

"Yes," said the Doctor, "that is so."

"And what, might I ask," put in the judge in a very quiet, dignified
voice, "has all this to do with the killing of er—er—Bluebeard Bill?"

"This, Your Honor," said Mr. Jenkyns, talking in a very grand manner as
though he were on a stage in a theatre: "there is in this court-room at
the present moment a bulldog, who was the only living thing that saw the
man killed. With the Court's permission I propose to put that dog in
the witness-stand and have him questioned before you by the eminent
scientist, Doctor John Dolittle."

AT first there was a dead silence in the Court. Then everybody began
whispering or giggling at the same time, till the whole room sounded
like a great hive of bees. Many people seemed to be shocked; most of
them were amused; and a few were angry.

Presently up sprang the nasty lawyer with the long nose.

"I protest, Your Honor," he cried, waving his arms wildly to the judge.
"I object. The dignity of this court is in peril. I protest."

"I am the one to take care of the dignity of this court," said the
judge.

Then Mr. Jenkyns got up again. (If it hadn't been such a serious matter,
it was almost like a Punch-and-Judy show: somebody was always popping
down and somebody else popping up).

"If there is any doubt on the score of our being able to do as we say,
Your Honor will have no objection, I trust, to the Doctor's giving the
Court a demonstration of his powers—of showing that he actually
can understand the speech of animals?" I thought I saw a twinkle of
amusement come into the old judge's eyes as he sat considering a moment
before he answered.

"No," he said at last, "I don't think so." Then he turned to the Doctor.

"Are you quite sure you can do this?" he asked.

"Quite, Your Honor," said the Doctor—"quite sure."

"Very well then," said the judge. "If you can satisfy us that you really
are able to understand canine testimony, the dog shall be admitted as
a witness. I do not see, in that case, how I could object to his being
heard. But I warn you that if you are trying to make a laughing-stock of
this Court it will go hard with you."

"I protest, I protest!" yelled the long-nosed Prosecutor. "This is a
scandal, an outrage to the Bar!"

"Sit down!" said the judge in a very stern voice.

"What animal does Your Honor wish me to talk with?" asked the Doctor.

"I would like you to talk to my own dog," said the judge. "He is outside
in the cloak-room. I will have him brought in; and then we shall see
what you can do."

Then someone went out and fetched the judge's dog, a lovely great
Russian wolf-hound with slender legs and a shaggy coat. He was a proud
and beautiful creature.

"Now, Doctor," said the judge, "did you ever see this dog
before?—Remember you are in the witness-stand and under oath."

"No, Your Honor, I never saw him before."

"Very well then, will you please ask him to tell you what I had for
supper last night? He was with me and watched me while I ate."

Then the Doctor and the dog started talking to one another in signs and
sounds; and they kept at it for quite a long time. And the Doctor began
to giggle and get so interested that he seemed to forget all about the
Court and the judge and everything else.

"What a time he takes!" I heard a fat woman in front of me whispering.
"He's only pretending. Of course he can't do it! Who ever heard of
talking to a dog? He must think we're children."

"Haven't you finished yet?" the judge asked the Doctor. "It shouldn't
take that long just to ask what I had for supper."

"Oh no, Your Honor," said the Doctor. "The dog told me that long ago.
But then he went on to tell me what you did after supper."

"Never mind that," said the judge. "Tell me what answer he gave you to
my question."

"He says you had a mutton-chop, two baked potatoes, a pickled walnut and
a glass of ale."

The Honorable Eustace Beauchamp Conckley went white to the lips.

"Sounds like witchcraft," he muttered. "I never dreamed—"

"And after your supper," the Doctor went on, "he says you went to see a
prize-fight and then sat up playing cards for money till twelve o'clock
and came home singing, 'We wont get—'"

"That will do," the judge interrupted, "I am satisfied you can do as you
say. The prisoner's dog shall be admitted as a witness."

"I protest, I object!" screamed the Prosecutor. "Your Honor, this is—"

"Sit down!" roared the judge. "I say the dog shall be heard. That ends
the matter. Put the witness in the stand."

And then for the first time in the solemn history of England a dog was
put in the witness-stand of Her Majesty's Court of Assizes. And it was
I, Tommy Stubbins (when the Doctor made a sign to me across the room)
who proudly led Bob up the aisle, through the astonished crowd, past the
frowning, spluttering, long-nosed Prosecutor, and made him comfortable
on a high chair in the witness-box; from where the old bulldog sat
scowling down over the rail upon the amazed and gaping jury.