The Hampstead Mystery by John R. Watson (sneezy the snowman read aloud .txt) 📕

Court. When the doors opened at 10.15 a.m. the first batch of them were admitted, but on reaching the top of the stairs, where they were inspected by a sergeant, they were informed that all the seats in the gallery of Number One Court had been filled, but that he would graciously permit them to go to Numbers Two, Three, Four, or Five Courts. Those who were not satisfied with this generosity could get out the way they had come in and be quick about it. What the sergeant did not explain was that so many people with social influence had applied to the presiding judge for permission to be present at the trial that it had been found necessary to reserve the gallery for them as well as most of the seats in the body of the court. Fashionably-dressed ladies and well-groomed men drove up to the main entrance of the Old Bailey in motors and taxi-cabs. The scene was as busy as the scene outside a West End theatre on a first night. The services of several policemen were necessary to regulate the arrival and departure of taxi-cabs and motor-cars and to keep back the staring mob of disappointed people who had been refused admission to the court by the fat sergeant, but were determined to see as much as they could before they went away. Elderly ladies and young ladies were assisted from smart motor-cars by their escorts, and greeted their friends with feminine fervour. Some of the younger ones exchanged whispered regrets, as they swept into the court, that such a fine-looking man as Holymead should have got himself into such a terrible predicament.

The legal profession was numerously represented among the spectators in the body of the court. So many distinguished members of the profession had applied for tickets of admission that there was little room for members of the junior bar. It was many years since a trial had created so much interest in legal circles. When Mr. Justice Hodson entered the court, followed by no fewer than eight of the Sheriffs of London, those present in the court rose. The members of the profession bowed slowly in the direction of His Honour. The prisoner was brought into the dock from below, and took the seat that was given to him beside one of the two warders who remained in the dock with him. He looked a little careworn, as though with sleepless nights, but his strong, clean-shaven face was as resolute as ever, and betrayed nothing of the mental agony which he endured. His keen dark eyes glanced quietly through the court, and though many members of the bar smiled at him when they thought they had caught his eye, he gave no smile in return. As he looked at Mr. Justice Hodson, the distinguished judge inclined his head to what was almost a nod of recognition, but the prisoner looked calmly at the judge as though he had never seen him before and had never been inside a court in his life till then.

Among those persons standing in the body of the court were Crewe and Inspector Chippenfield and Detective Rolfe. Inspector Chippenfield displayed so much friendliness to Crewe as he drew his attention to the number of celebrities in court that it was evident he had buried for the time being his professional enmity. This was because Crewe had allowed him to appropriate some of the credit of unravelling Holymead's connection with the crime. As the jury were being sworn in Crewe and Chippenfield made their way out of court into the corridor. As they were to be called as witnesses they would not be allowed in court until after they had given their evidence.

Mr. Walters in his opening address paid tribute to the exceptional circumstances of the case by some slight show of nervousness. Several times he insisted that the case was what he termed unique. The prisoner in the dock was a man who by his distinguished abilities had won for himself a leading position at the bar, and had been honoured and respected by all who knew him. It was not the first occasion that a member of the legal profession had been placed on trial on a capital charge, though he was glad to say, for the honour of the profession, that cases of the kind were extremely rare. But what made the case unique was that it was not the first trial in connection with the murder of Sir Horace Fewbanks, and that at the first trial when a man named Frederick Birchill had been placed in the dock, the prisoner now before the court had appeared as defending Counsel, and by his brilliant conduct of the defence had materially contributed to the verdict of acquittal which had been brought in by the jury. Some evidence would be placed before the jury about the first trial and the conduct of the defence. He ventured to assert that the jury would find in this evidence some damaging facts against the prisoner—that they would find a clear indication that the prisoner had defended Birchill because he knew himself to be guilty of this murder, and felt an obligation on him to place his legal knowledge and forensic powers at the disposal of a man whom he knew to be innocent. At the former trial the prisoner, as Counsel for the defence, had attempted to throw suspicion on a man named Hill, who had been butler to the late Sir Horace Fewbanks, but evidence would be placed before the jury to show that in doing so the prisoner had been smitten by some pangs of conscience at casting suspicion on a man who he knew was not guilty.

It was not incumbent on the prosecution to prove a motive for the murder, continued Mr. Walters, though where the motive was plainly proved the case against the prisoner was naturally strengthened. In this case there was no doubt about the motive, but the extent of the evidence to be placed before the jury under that head would depend upon the defence. The prosecution would submit some evidence on the point, but the full story could only be told if the defence placed the wife of the prisoner in the witness-box. It was impossible for the prosecution to call her as a witness, as English law prevented a wife giving evidence against her husband. She could, however, give evidence in favour of her husband, and doubtless the defence would take full advantage of the privilege of calling her.

The evidence which he intended to call would show that for years past very friendly relations had existed between the prisoner and the murdered man. They had been at Cambridge together and had studied law together in chambers. Their friendship continued after their marriages. The prisoner had married a second time, and at that time Sir Horace Fewbanks was a widower. Sir Horace Fewbanks was what was known as a ladies' man, and at the previous trial prisoner, as defending Counsel, had tried to bring out that Sir Horace was a man of immoral reputation among women. There was no doubt that the prisoner, during Sir Horace's absence in Scotland, became convinced that Sir Horace had been paying attention to his wife. There was no doubt that, being a man of a jealous disposition, his suspicions went beyond that. At any rate he wrote a letter to Sir Horace at Craigleith Hall, where the latter was shooting, asking him to come to London at once. In order to induce Sir Horace to return, and in order not to arouse suspicion as to his real object, he concocted a story about a vacancy in the Court of Appeal Bench to which, it appeared, Sir Horace Fewbanks desired to be appointed. In this letter, which would be produced in evidence, the prisoner pretended to be working in Sir Horace's interests, and offered to meet him on the night of his return at Riversbrook and let him know fully how matters stood. Sir Horace apparently wrote to the prisoner making an appointment with him for the night of the 18th of August. The prisoner kept that appointment, charged Sir Horace with carrying on an intrigue with his wife, and then shot him.

"That is the case for the prosecution which I will endeavour to establish to the satisfaction of the jury," said Mr. Walters, in concluding his speech, "Of course it is impossible to produce direct evidence of the actual shooting. But I will produce a silent but indisputable witness in the form of a glove which belonged to the prisoner, that he was present in the room in which the murder took place. I will produce evidence to show that the prisoner left his stick behind in the hat-stand in the hall on the night of the murder. These things prove conclusively that he left Riversbrook in a state of considerable excitement. The fact that after the murder was discovered he kept hidden in his own breast the knowledge that he had been there on that night, instead of going to the police and, in the endeavour to assist them to detect the murderer of his lifelong friend, informing them that he had called on Sir Horace, shows conclusively that he went there on a mission on which he dared not throw the light of day."

Those witnesses who had given evidence at the police court were called and repeated their statements. Inspector Seldon was closely cross-examined by Mr. Lethbridge as to the way in which the dead body was dressed when he discovered it. He declared that Sir Horace had been wearing a light lounge suit of grey colour, a silk shirt, wing collar and black bow tie. Dr. Slingsby's cross-examination was directed to ascertaining as near as possible the time when the murder was committed, but this was a point on which the witness allowed himself to be irritatingly indefinite. The murder might have taken place three or four hours before midnight on the 18th of August, and on the other hand it might have taken place any time up to three or four hours after midnight.

Hill, who had not been available as a witness at the police court—being then on the way back from America in response to a cablegram from Crewe—reappeared as a witness. He looked much more at ease in the witness-box than on the occasion when he gave evidence against Birchill. He had fully recovered from his terror of being arrested for the murder, and obviously had much satisfaction in giving evidence against the man who, according to his impression, had tried to bring the crime home to him.

He gave evidence as to the unexpected return of his master from Scotland on the 18th of August, and also in regard to the relations between his master and Mrs. Holymead. On several occasions he had seen his master kiss Mrs. Holymead, and once he had heard the door of the room in which they were together being locked.

Two new witnesses were called to testify to the suggestion of the prosecution that illicit relations had existed between Sir Horace Fewbanks and Mrs. Holymead. These were Philip Williams, who had been the dead man's chauffeur, and Dorothy Mason, who had been housemaid at Riversbrook. The chauffeur gave evidence as to meeting Mrs. Holymead's car at various places in the country. He formed the opinion from the first that these meetings between Sir Horace and the lady were not accidental.

The last of the prosecution's witnesses was the legal shorthand writer who had taken the official report of the trial of Birchill. In response to the request of Mr. Walters, he read from his notebook the final passage in the opening address delivered by the prisoner at that trial as defending Counsel: "'It is my duty to convince you that my client is not guilty, or, in other words, to convince you that the murder was committed before he reached the house. It is only with the greatest reluctance that I take upon myself the responsibility of pointing an accusing finger at another man. In crimes of this kind you cannot expect to get anything but circumstantial evidence. But there are degrees of circumstantial evidence, and my duty to my client lays upon me the obligation of pointing out to you that there is one person against whom the existing circumstantial evidence is stronger than it is against my client.'"

Mr. Lethbridge was unexpectedly brief in his opening address. He ridiculed the idea that a man like the prisoner, trained in the atmosphere of the law, would take the law into his own hands in seeking revenge for a wrong that had been done to him. According to the prosecution the prisoner had calmly and deliberately carried out this murder. He had sent a letter to Sir Horace Fewbanks with the object of inducing him