he most wealthy and
influential of New York's citizens.

True, this Howard Jeffries, the son, was a black sheep. He had been
mixed up in all kinds of scandals before. His own father had turned him
out of doors, and he was married to a woman whose father died in prison.
Could a better combination of circumstances for a newspaper be
conceived? The crime was discovered too late for the morning papers to
make mention of it, but the afternoon papers fired a broadside that
shook the town. All the evening papers had big scare heads stretching
across the entire front page, with pictures of the principals involved
and long interviews with the coroner and Captain Clinton. There seemed
to be no doubt that the police had arrested the right man, and in all
quarters of the city there was universal sympathy for Mr. Howard
Jeffries, Sr. It was terrible to think that this splendid, upright man,
whose whole career was without a single stain, who had served his
country gallantly through the civil war, should have such disgrace
brought upon him in his old age.

Everything pointed to a speedy trial and quick conviction. Public
indignation was aroused almost to a frenzy, and a loud clamor went up
against the law's delay. Too many crimes of this nature, screamed the
yellow press, had been allowed to sully the good name of the city. A
fearful example must be made, no matter what the standing and influence
of the prisoner's family. Thus goaded on, the courts acted with
promptness. Taken before a magistrate, Howard was at once committed to
the Tombs to await trial, and the district attorney set to work
impaneling a jury. Justice, he promised, would be swiftly done. One
newspaper stated positively that the family would not interfere, but
would abandon the scapegrace son to his richly deserved fate. Judge
Brewster, the famous lawyer, it was said, had already been approached by
the prisoner's wife, but had declined to take the case. Banker Jeffries
also was quoted as saying that the man under arrest was no longer a son
of his.

As one paper pointed out, it seemed a farce and a waste of money to have
any trial at all. The assassin had not only been caught red-handed, but
had actually confessed. Why waste time over a trial? True, one paper
timidly suggested that it might have been a case of suicide. Robert
Underwood's financial affairs, it went on to say, were in a critical
condition, and the theory of suicide was borne out to some extent by an
i