Mark Twain - The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain (Illustrated)

The audience tittered, and the discomfited witness retired in a state of great embarrassment.

Mr. Wakeman took the stand and swore that he saw the twins kick the plaintiff off the platform.

The defense took the witness.

“Mr. Wakeman, you have sworn that you saw these gentlemen kick the plaintiff. Do I understand you to swear that you saw them both do it?”

“Yes, sir,”—with decision.

“How do you know that both did it?”

“Because I saw them do it.”

The audience laughed, and got another warning from the court.

“But by what means do you know that both, and not one, did it?”

“Well, in the first place, the insult was given to both of them equally, for they were called a pair of scissors. Of course they would both want to resent it, and so—”

“Wait! You are theorizing now. Stick to facts—counsel will attend to the arguments. Go on.”

“Well, they both went over there—that I saw.”

“Very good. Go on.”

“And they both kicked him—I swear to it.”

“Mr. Wakeman, was Count Luigi, here, willing to join the Sons of Liberty last night?”

“Yes, sir, he was. He did join, too, and drank a glass or two of whisky, like a man.”

“Was his brother willing to join?”

“No, sir, he wasn’t. He is a teetotaler, and was elected through a mistake.”

“Was he given a glass of whisky?”

“Yes, sir, but of course that was another mistake, and not intentional. He wouldn’t drink it. He set it down.” A slight pause, then he added, casually and quite simply: “The plaintiff reached for it and hogged it.”

There was a fine outburst of laughter, but as the justice was caught out himself, his reprimand was not very vigorous.

Mr. Allen jumped up and exclaimed: “I protest against these foolish irrelevancies. What have they to do with the case?”

Wilson said: “Calm yourself, brother, it was only an experiment. Now, Mr. Wakeman, if one of these gentlemen chooses to join an association and the other doesn’t; and if one of them enjoys whisky and the other doesn’t, but sets it aside and leaves it unprotected” (titter from the audience), “it seems to show that they have independent minds, and tastes, and preferences, and that one of them is able to approve of a thing at the very moment that the other is heartily disapproving of it. Doesn’t it seem so to you?”

“Certainly it does. It’s perfectly plain.”

“Now, then, it might be—I only say it might be—that one of these brothers wanted to kick the plaintiff last night, and that the other didn’t want that humiliating punishment inflicted upon him in that public way and before all those people. Isn’t that possible?”

“Of course it is. It’s more than possible. I don’t believe the blond one would kick anybody. It was the other one that—”

“Silence!” shouted the plaintiff’s counsel, and went on with an angry sentence which was lost in the wave of laughter that swept the house.

“That will do, Mr. Wakeman,” said Wilson, “you may stand down.”

The third witness was called. He had seen the twins kick the plaintiff. Mr. Wilson took the witness.

“Mr. Rogers, you say you saw these accused gentlemen kick the plaintiff?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Which of them kicked him first?”

“Why—they—they both kicked him at the same time.

“Are you perfectly sure of that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What makes you sure of it?”

“Why, I stood right behind them, and saw them do it.”

“How many kicks were delivered?”

“Only one.”

“If two men kick, the result should be two kicks, shouldn’t it?”

“Why—why yes, as a rule.”

“Then what do you think went with the other kick?”

“I—well—the fact is, I wasn’t thinking of two being necessary, this time.”

“What do you think now?”

“Well, I—I’m sure I don’t quite know what to think, but I reckon that one of them did half of the kick and the other one did the other half.”

Somebody in the crowd sung out: “It’s the first sane thing that any of them has said.”

The audience applauded. The judge said: “Silence! or I will clear the court.”

Mr. Allen looked pleased, but Wilson did not seem disturbed. He said:

“Mr. Rogers, you have favored us with what you think and what you reckon, but as thinking and reckoning are not evidence, I will now give you a chance to come out with something positive, one way or the other, and shall require you to produce it. I will ask the accused to stand up and repeat the phenomenal kick of last night.” The twins stood up. “Now, Mr. Rogers, please stand behind them.”

A Voice: “No, stand in front!” (Laughter. Silenced by the court.) Another Voice: “No, give Tommy another highst!” (Laughter. Sharply rebuked by the court.)

“Now, then, Mr. Rogers, two kicks shall be delivered, one after the other, and I give you my word that at least one of the two shall be delivered by one of the twins alone, without the slightest assistance from his brother. Watch sharply, for you have got to render a decision without any if’s and ands it.” Rogers bent himself behind the twins with his palms just above his knees, in the modern attitude of the catcher at a baseball match, and riveted his eyes on the pair of legs in front of him.

“Are you ready, Mr. Rogers?”

“Ready sir.”

The kick was launched.

“Have you got that one classified, Mr. Rogers?”

“Let me study a minute, sir.”

“Take as much time as you please. Let me know when you are ready.”

For as much as a minute Rogers pondered, with all eyes and a breathless interest fastened upon him. Then he gave the word: “Ready, sir.”

“Kick!”

The kick that followed was an exact duplicate of the first one.

“Now, then, Mr. Rogers, one of those kicks was an individual kick, not a mutual one. You will now state positively which was the mutual one.”

The witness said, with a crestfallen look:

“I’ve got to give it up. There ain’t any man in the world that could tell t’other from which, sir.”

“Do you still assert that last night’s kick was a mutual kick?”

“Indeed, I don’t, sir.”

“That will do, Mr. Rogers. If my brother Allen desires to address the court, your honor, very well; but as far as I am concerned I am ready to let the case be at once delivered into the hands of this intelligent jury without comment.”

Mr. Justice Robinson had been in office only two months, and in that short time had not had many cases to try, of course. He had no knowledge of laws and courts except what he had picked up since he came into office. He was a sore trouble to the lawyers, for his rulings were pretty eccentric sometimes, and he stood by them with Roman simplicity and fortitude; but the people were well satisfied with him, for they saw that his intentions were always right, that he was entirely impartial, and that he usually made up in good sense what he lacked in technique, so to speak. He now perceived that there was likely to be a miscarriage of justice here, and he rose to the occasion.

“Wait a moment, gentlemen,” he said, “it is plain that an assault has been committed it is plain to anybody; but the way things are going, the guilty will certainly escape conviction. I can not allow this. Now—-”

“But, your honor!” said Wilson, interrupting him, earnestly but respectfully, “you are deciding the case yourself, whereas the jury—”

“Never mind the jury, Mr. Wilson; the jury will have a chance when there is a reasonable doubt for them to take hold of—which there isn’t, so far. There is no doubt whatever that an assault has been committed. The attempt to show that both of the accused committed it has failed. Are they both to escape justice on that account? Not in this court, if I can prevent it. It appears to have been a mistake to bring the charge against them as a corporation; each should have been charged in his capacity as an individual, and—”