Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymen - Finley Peter Dunne (black authors fiction txt) 📗

adopted to provide again disturbance. Th' gyard was doubled, an' both polismen had all they cud do to keep th' crowd in ordher. Th' English an' American journalists appeared at th' thrile wrapped up in th' flags iv their rayspictive counthries. All th' Jews, excipt th' owners iv anti-Jew papers fr'm Paris, wore heavy masks an' kep' their hands in their pockets. At four o'clock th' prisident called th' aujience to disordher, an', havin' disentangled Gin'ral Merceer an' a former prisident iv th' raypublic, demanded if Moosoo Bertillon was in th' room.

"'Here,' says that gr-reat janius, descindin' fr'm th' roof in a parachute. Ye know Bertillon. Ye don't? Iv coorse ye do, Hinnissy. He's th' la-ad that invinted th' system iv ditictive wurruk med aisy that they use down in th' Cintral Polis Station. I mind wanst, afther 'twas inthrojooced, th' loot says to Andy Rohan,--he's a sergeant now, be hivins!--he says, 'Go out,' he says, 'an' fetch in Mike McGool, th' safe robber,' he says. 'Here's his description,' he says: 'eyelashes, eight killomethres long; eyes, blue an' assymethrical; jaw, bituminous; measuremint fr'm abaft th' left ear to base iv maxillory glan's, four hectograms; a r-red scar runnin' fr'm th' noomo-gasthric narve to th' sicond dorsal verteebree,' he says. 'Tis so. I have th' description at home in th' cash dhrawer. Well, Andy come in about six o'clock that night, lookin' as though he'd been thryin' to r-run a fut race acrost a pile iv scrap ir'n; an' says he, 'Loot,' he says, 'I've got him,' he says. "I didn't take th' measuremints,' he says, 'because, whin I pulled out th' tape line, he rowled me eighty hectograms down th' sthreet,' he says. 'But 'tis Mike McGool,' he says. 'I don't know annything about his noomo-gasthric narves,' he says, 'but I reco'nized his face,' he says. 'I've r-run him in fifty times,' he says.

"Bertillon, besides bein' a profissor iv detictives, is a handwritin' expert, which is wan iv th' principal industhries iv Fr-rance at th' prisint time. He was accompanied be a throop iv assistants carryin' a camera, a mutoscope, a magic lantern, a tib iv dye, a telescope, a calceem light, a sextant, a compass, a thermometer, a barometer, a thrunkful iv speeches, a duplicate to th' Agyptian obelisk, an ink-eraser, an' a rayceipt f'r makin' goold out iv lead pipe.

"'Well, sir,' says Bertillon, 'what d'ye want?'

"'Nawthin',' says th' coort. 'Didn't ye ask to be called here?'

"'No,' says Bertillon, 'an' ye didn't ask me, ayther. I come. Ye said jus' now, Why do I believe th' Cap's guilty? I will show ye. In th' spring iv ninety-five or th' fall iv sixty-eight, I disraymimber which, Gin'ral Merceer'--

"'Ye lie,' says Gin'ral Merceer, coldly.

"'--called on me; an' says he, "Bertillon," he says, "ye'er fam'ly's been a little cracked, an' I thought to ask ye to identify this letther which I've jus' had written be a frind iv mine, Major Estherhazy," he says. "I don't care to mintion who we suspect; but he's a canal Jew in th' artillery, an' his name's Cap Dhryfuss," he says. "It's not aisy," I says; "but, if th' honor iv th' ar-rmy's at stake, I'll thry to fix th' raysponsibility," I says. An' I wint to wurruk. I discovered in th' first place that all sentences begun with capitals, an' they was a peryod at th' end iv each. This aroused me suspicions. Clearly, this letther was written be a Jew. Here I paused, f'r I had no samples iv th' Cap's writin' to compare with it. So I wrote wan mesilf. They was much th' same. "Sure," says I, "th' Cap's guilty," I says. But how did he do it? I thried a number iv experiments. I first laid down over th' letther a piece of common tissue paper. Th' writin' was perfectly plain through this. Thin I threw it on a screen eighteen hands high. Thin I threw it off. Thin I set it to music, an' played it on a flute. Thin I cooked it over a slow fire, an' left it in a cool airy place to dhry. In an instant it flashed over me how th' forgery was done. "Th' Cap first give it to his little boy to write. Thin he had his wife copy it in imitation iv Macchew Dhryfuss's handwritin'. Thin Macchew wrote it in imitation iv Estherhazy. Thin th' Cap had it put on a typewriter, an' r-run through a wringer. Thin he laid it transversely acrost a piece of wall paper; an', whereiver th' key wurrud sponge-cake appeared, he was thereby able f'r to make a sympathic lesion, acquirin' all th' characteristics iv th' race, an' a dam sight more."

"'I follow ye like a horse afther a hay wagon,' says th' prisident, 'hungrily, but unsatisfacthrly. Ye do not prove that th' throuble was symotic, mong expert.'

"'Parfictly,' says Moosoo Bertillon. 'I will have me assistants put up a screen, an' on this I will projooce ividince'--"'Go away,' says th' prisident. 'Call Colonel Prystalter. Mong colonel, ye thraitor, describe th' conversation ye had with Colonel Schneider, th' honorable but lyin' spy or confidential envoy iv th' vin'rable Impror iv Austhrich, may th' divvle fly way with him! But mind ye, ye must mintion no names.'

"'I know no man more honest,' says th' witness.

"'Thin your acquaintance is limited to ye'ersilf,' says Gin'ral Merceer.

"'Colonel Schneider,' says th' witness, 'th' Austhrich,--whom I will designate, f'r fear iv internaytional entanglements, merely as Colonel Schneider,--says to me, he says: "Th' letther pretindin' to be fr'm me is a forgery." "How's that?" says I. "Didn't ye write an' sign it?" I says. "I did," says he. "But some wan else sint it to th' pa-apers."

"'Thin 'tis clearly a forgery,' says th' prisident.

"'I wish to ask this witness wan question,' says Gin'ral Merceer. 'Was it th' Robin shell or th' day befure?'

"'My answer to that,' says th' witness, 'is decidedly, Who?'

"'Thin,' says Gin'ral Merceer, 'all I can say is, this wretch's tistimony is all a pack iv lies.'

"'Hol' on there!' calls a voice from th' aujience.

"'What d'ye want?' says th' prisident.

"'I'm th' corryspondint iv th' Georgia Daily Lyncher, an' I can't undherstand a wurrud ye say. I've lost me dictionary. Th' people iv th' State iv Georgia mus' not be deprived iv their information about th' scand'lous conduct iv this infamious coort.'

"'Thrue,' says th' prisident. 'Fr-rance 'd soon perish if Georgia shud thransfer its intherest fr'm Fr-rinch coorts to its own sacred timples iv justice. Perhaps some confrere 'll lind th' distinguished gazabo a copy iv his Ollendorff. Manewhile'--

"'Mong prisident,' says a white-faced polisman, 'Judge Crazy the Boore'--

"'Gr-reat hivins!' cried th' prisident. 'Thin th' quarantine at Oporto is a farce.' An' he plunged into th' seething mass iv handwritin' experts an' ex-prisidents iv th' raypublic in th' coort-yard below."


THE DREYFUS CASE.

V.

"An' I was thinking Hinnissy" (Mr. Dooley said in conclusion), "as I set in that there coort, surrounded be me fellow-journalists, spies, perjurers, an' other statesmen, that I'd give four dollars if th' prisident iv th' coort 'd call out, 'Moosoo Dooley, take th' stand.'

"'Here,' says I; an' I'd thread me way with dignity through th' Fr-rinch gin'rals an' ministers on th' flure, an' give me hand to th' prisident to kiss. If he went anny further, I'd break his head. No man 'll kiss me, Hinnissy, an' live. What's that ye say? He wudden't want to? Well, niver mind.

"'Here,' says I, 'mong colonel, what d'ye want with me?'

"'What d'ye know about this case, mong bar-tinder.'

"'Nawthin',' says I. 'But I know as much as annywan else. I know more thin most iv thim la-ads down below; f'r I can't undherstand a wurrud ye say, so I'm onable,' I says, 'f'r to make mistakes. I won't give anny tistimony, because 'twud be out iv place in this sacred timple devoted to th' practice iv orathry,' I says; 'but I can make as good a speech as annywan, an' here goes.'

"Gin'ral Merceer--'May I ask this polluted witness wan question?'

"Th' Witness.--'Set down, ye infamious ol' polthroon!' says I. 'Set down an' pondher ye'er sins,' I says. 'If ye had ye'er dues, ye'd be cooprin' a bar'l in th' pinitinchry. If ye're afraid iv th' Impror Willum, be hivins, ye want to be afraid iv th' Impror Dooley; f'r he's Dutch, an' I ain't. I'll raysume me speech. Lady an' Gintlemen, prisoner at th' bar, freeman that ought to be there, lawyers, gin'rals, ex-prisidents, former mimbers iv th' cabinet, an' you, me gin'rous confreres iv th' wurruld's press, I come fr'm a land where injustice is unknown, where ivry man is akel befure th' law, but some are betther thin others behind it, where th' accused always has a fair thrile ayether,' I says, 'in th' criminal coort or at th' coroner's inquest,' I says. 'I have just been in another counthry where such conduct as we've witnessed here wud be unknown at a second thrile,' I says, 'because they have no second thriles,' I says. 'We Anglo-Saxons ar-re th' salt iv th' earth, an' don't ye f'rget it, boys. All our affairs ar-re in ordher. We convict no innocent men an' very few guilty wans, perjury is unknown amongst us, we have no military scandals, an' our private life is beyond rebuke. So we have th' time an' th' inclination to study th' vile offences iv our neighbors, an' give thim advice free iv cost. An' that is why I'm here to-day in this degraded counthry to tell ye what's th' matther with ye an' what ye ought to do.

"'An' this is me opinyon: I don't think Cap. Dhryfuss wr-rote th' borderoo. I think he was th' on'y man in Fr-rance that didn't. But I ain't got as high an opinyon iv th' Cap as I had. I ain't no purity brigade; but, th' older I get, th' more I think wan wife's enough f'r anny man, an' too manny f'r some. They was a time, Cap, whin 'twas seryously thought iv takin' ye fr'm th' Divvle's Own Island an' makin' ye prisident iv th' Women's Rescue League. But I'm afraid, Cap, ye're disqualified f'r that position be what we've heard fr'm ye'er own lips durin th' thrile. Ye lost a good job. Thin there ar-re some other things about ye I don't undherstand. I can't make out what ye meant be pretindin' to go to It'ly an' doublin' back into Germany; an' I wish f'r me own peace iv mind all ye'er explanations 'd mate. But, sure, if ivry man that was too free with his affections was to be sint to th' Divvle's Own Island, they'd have to build an intinsion to that far-famed winther resort. An' if suspicyous actions was proof iv guilt, mong colonel, ye'd have th' mimbers iv th' gin'ral staff sthrung up in as manny cages as ye see at th' Zoo-illogical Gardens [laughter an' cries iv 'Veev Dooley!']

"'Th' throuble is, mong colonel, lady an' gintlemen, that it ain't been Cap Dhryfuss that's been on thrile, but th' honor iv th' nation an' th' honor iv th' ar-rmy. If 'twas th' Cap that was charged, ye'd say to him, "Cap, we haven't anny proof again ye; but we don't like ye, an' ye'll have to move on." An' that 'd be th' end iv th' row. The Cap 'd go over to England an' go into th' South African minin' business, an' become what Hogan calls "A Casey's bellows." But, because some la-ad on th' gin'ral staff got caught lyin' in th' start an' had to lie some more to make th' first wan stick,