[Illustration: INSPECTOR ADELARD PERRON.]
As Mr. Jennings concluded, there were tears in the eyes of a majority of those present. Col. Adams, the associate counsel, was deeply affected, and Mr. Phillips, Mr. Jennings’ assistant, was weeping. The prisoner’s lips were trembling, and the tears in her eyes were hidden from view by her hands, which were placed there. As Mayor Coughlin, Dr. Dolan and other prominent persons stepped forward to grasp the hand of the attorney, a ripple of applause started, which rapidly swelled into a loud expression of admiration and sympathy, and with the echo of this applause, which there was no attempt to suppress, the Court was adjourned till the afternoon.
Knowledge of the splendid presentation of the case of the defence by Mr. Jennings reached the streets almost in advance of its conclusion, and the effect was apparent at the opening of the afternoon session. The court room was crowded to excess, and there were larger throngs at the entrances on the square than had been noticed since the opening of the hearing. Everybody expected an interesting answer from the District Attorney, and the gathering assembled to listen to it included the leading professional men of the city. Attorney General Pillsbury arrived at noon, and was seated beside the District Attorney, as the latter began to speak. Lizzie Borden was pale as she entered, but she flushed a vivid crimson as the District Attorney arose to speak. He said: “I can fully appreciate Your Honor’s feelings, now that the end of this hearing is about to be reached. The crime of murder touches the deepest sensibilities of feeling. There is the deepest feeling of horror about it, and above all in the unnaturalness that brings the thrill of horror to every mind. The man who is accustomed even to conflicts of arms may not be expected to be free from horror at the thought of the assassin. While it was not a pleasant summons that came to me, the almost despairing cry that came to me to come over here, I should not have been true to duty if I had not undertaken to ferret out the criminal. It was so causeless a crime. The people interested in it were so free from ordinary bickerings or strife that of all cases that transcend the ideas of men, this case was that case. The murdered man’s daughter was arrested. I perfectly understood the surprise and indignation that started up. I am sorry that Your Honor was criticised. Does not Your Honor believe my own soul is filled with anguish that I must go on and believe the prisoner guilty, and yet the path of duty is not always the path of pleasure. The straight and narrow path is often full of anguish, and does not have the popular voice behind it. What is it we have done? There are three stages, yes, four, which are junctions of the law in a case like this. First, the stage of simple inquiry. I am sworn on that book before Your Honor that an inquest shall be held, which is necessarily private. That step has been taken. There then comes another stage, when by the laws of inquiry it finally sees the evidence points to any particular person and such an occasion as this follows. That is the present state. To that tribunal it is Your Honor’s duty to direct such cases as seem too grave for Your Honor to decide. Then the evidence appears to indicate that the balance of probabilities is in favor of finding the accursed guilty of the act. The Commonwealth advances no statements as to probable guilt. Your Honor’s duty is before you. Let us go back to the pictures. They are before you. Such was the scene presented four weeks ago this morning. What are they? One is a man retired from business, of simple and frugal habits, and so far as we know without an enemy in the world. If there was some friction between him and his wife’s relatives, that domestic and honorable lady was absolutely without harsh feelings on the part of the world, yet she was murdered, and there was a hand that dealt those blows, and a brain that directed them. There was not a man, woman or child in the world of whom we could not have said, they would have done it. But it was done. The presumption that some enemy killed him and then killed her, for I presume that Your Honor will prefer the evidence of the chemist, Prof. Wood, rather than the story of a Medical Examiner who has not examined the stomachs, is that Mrs. Borden was dead fully an hour and a half before the murder of Mr. Borden. Who could have done it? As an eminent attorney once said, there is no motive for murder. There is reason for it, but no motive. I never in all my experience saw a man so utterly low as to believe him guilty of such a deed. But it was done. By what? Obviously by a hatchet. The blows were struck from behind.