The Attic Murder by S. Fowler Wright (read me like a book txt) 📕
Chapter III
FRANCIS HAMMERTON, if we are to think of him by his true name, had not considered the probability that Mrs. Benson might not be the sole occupant of the house, his mind having been concentrated upon aspects of his position which threatened more definite hazards.
Actually, the woman whose voice he heard was a next-door neighbour, Miss Janet Brown, who had looked in with no further purpose than to return a borrowed flat-iron. But it happened that she was already informed of the exciting incident of the afternoon, and when Mrs. Benson detained her for a cup of the tea which could be cheaply obtained by adding fresh water to the leaves in the lodger's teapot, and naturally mentioned the good fortune which had walked in less than two hours before Janet was quick to see the connection bet
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“Very well. We must leave it there… Now on another matter. You have told us how Rabone forced his attentions on you at a late hour of the night — actually at one-thirty a.m. — and how frightened you very naturally were, especially so, if I understand rightly what had occurred, because, up to a certain point, you had given him encouragement, or, at least, some reason to expect complaisance from you.
“At that time we may suppose that Mrs. Benson was fast asleep in the basement, three or four stories below. When you were on the top landing, or even when you were on the one outside Mr. Hammerton’s door, she may have been out of hearing, but Mr. Hammerton certainly was not.
“If I understood you correctly, you threatened to call him to your assistance, but Rabone was, to use your own word, contemptuous of any interference from him, and you do not appear to have been surprised at this attitude.
“May I conclude that Mr. Hammerton, or Edwards as I believe that he was known to Rabone and yourself — or was it possibly Vaughan? — was previously acquainted with William Rabone, and presumably under his influence?”
“No. I think that is wrong. I believe they had only met on the previous day. I have really no doubt about it.”
Mr. Garrison turned over his notes. “I think,” he said, “we already have Mr. Hammerton’s evidence to that effect.”
Mr. Pippin said: “Yes. That is so,” in a tone that I implied that the word of Mr. Hammerton, Edwards, or Vaughan, was of negligible value on any subject whatever. But Mr. Garrison was of a scrupulous impartiality. He was dubious about Mr. Hammerton in more ways than one, but the oath of any man is not to be lightly set aside, if there be no contrary evidence to weigh it down. He said: “Well, go on, Mr. Pippin.”
“Then, if we are to accept the supposition that they were no more than acquaintances of a few hours — - Will you repeat Mr. Rabone’s contemptuous words, as exactly as you can recall them?”
Miss Weston had a moment of silence, as though she searched a deficient memory for words which she could not recall with the certainty that the occasion required. In fact, she remembered them without difficulty, but she had some reluctance to quote them. They must be offensive to publish, and might be harmful, to one toward whom she felt as a friend. But she reflected that, from one angle or other, the facts would certainly be revealed concerning all who had been on the scene of William Rabone’s death, and that a frank answer might ultimately be best, in more ways than one. She answered: “What he said was, as nearly as I can recollect, ‘You’ll get no help from that jailbird. Do you think he’s going to call in the police?’”
“And you understood that singular allusion to Mr. Hammerton’s past or present position?”
“Yes. I knew what he meant.”
“Although, like Mr. Rabone, you had only made his acquaintance a few hours previously?”
“Yes. Mr. Hammerton had told me what had happened.”
“You knew, in fact, that he was an escaped convict?”
“I knew he had escaped from prison.”
“And you had no thought of informing the police?”
“No. I should have thought it would have been a very mean thing to do.”
“Don’t you recognize that it is the duty of every citizen to assist the officers of the law?”
“I thought Mr. Hammerton was an innocent and most unfortunate man.”
Mr. Garrrson allowed himself to smile slightly at this example of feminine logic, which Miss Weston evidently considered to be a sufficient reply. He said: “Don’t you think we are going rather far afield, Mr. Pippin? I am not sure that I should not have warned the witness that she is not bound to answer your latest questions.”
Mr. Pippin said he would leave it there, but before he could resume his examination Mr. Jellipot was on his feet.
“As representing Mr. Hammerton — - ” he began
“I am not sure,” Mr. Garrison interrupted, “that I can hear you in that capacity.”
“I think,” Mr. Jellipot persisted, with a gentle firmness, “after what has been said already, that a few words of explanation may assist the court.”
Mr. Garrison looked dubious. But he was himself considerably puzzled; particularly in respect of the fact that Francis Hammerton, an escaped convict of recent notoriety, and who had stood in the dock on a charge of murder a week ago, did not appear to be in the present custody of the police. He said doubtfully: “Well, a few words, Mr. Jellipot, if you assure me that it will assist the court.”
Mr. Jellipot had the good sense to take the permission literally, and showed that he could be brief and pointed when the occasion required.
“I only wished,” he said, “to make Mr. Hammerton’s present position clear. It is true that he was recently convicted of a criminal offence, and that he escaped from the custody of the police. He has now appealed against that conviction, and has been granted bail until the appeal can be heard.”
Mr. Garrison considered this, and felt more surprise than he permitted himself to show. He said only: “That is quite clear. I am obliged to you, Mr. Jellipot, for your assistance… Pray continue, Mr. Pippin.”
Mr. Pippin resumed: “You have said, Miss Weston, that William Rabone was a man you hated, as being, in your belief, ultimately responsible for your father’s death. You were on the track of his supposed criminality, with the object of revenging yourself upon him. Up to the last day — almost up to the moment when you went upstairs together, as you have told the court, to the attic rooms where he was to meet a violent death in the next hour — you appear to have had a hope that you would be the instrument by which he would be brought to justice for the crimes which, rightly or wrongly, you believed him to have committed. But that evening that hope — that expectation — must have finally left your mind. You heard him express confidence that he could make terms with the bank which would be profitable to himself, or, at the worst, that they would be able to do no more than dismiss him, which he had no occasion to fear. Did you not realize, at that moment, that, unless you should take it into your own hands, and that instantly, your hope and opportunity of revenge might be gone for ever?”
Mr. Pippin’s manner had altered as this last question was asked. His tone had become solemn, and tense with the accusation that it conveyed. Yet Mr. Garrison, listening carefully, recognized that it was put in a form to which no exception could be taken.
Miss Weston considered it for a moment, as though not instantly grasping whatever meaning it had. Then she gave Mr. Pippin a straight glance, as she said without apparent resentment: “What you want me to say is that I killed him myself, which is untrue.”
“I want you to answer the question, which I will repeat if necessary.”
“There is no need to do that. The answer is that I didn’t think about it in that way at all.”
“Very well. That is your answer. You didn’t think about it in that way at all!”
Mr. Pippin sat down, and Mr. Garrison looked at Mr. Dunkover to ask: “Do you wish to re-examine the witness?”
Mr. Dunkover shook his head, and Mr. Garrison said: “Then we will adjourn at this point.” He continued to address Mr. Dunkover when he asked: “I wonder how far you can help me as to how much further time this case is likely to need.”
Mr. Dunkover said that he had one more witness to call. He did not anticipate that he would be long in the box. So far as he was concerned, the case might be over by noon tomorrow.
Mr. Huddleston rose at once. “When the prosecution have completed their case, unless they have some very different evidence from any which we have yet heard, I shall ask you to discharge Mr. Entwistle forthwith. Should you decide against me at that stage, I shall put my client into the box, and shall have at least three other witnesses to call. I anticipate being able to satisfy you of Mr. Entwistle’s absolute innocence.”
Mr. Garrison’s face was expressionless as he replied: “Thank you, Mr. Huddleston. That was all that I wished to know.”
INSPECTOR COMBRIDGE left the court with a cheerful expression, not wishing his opponents to know how worried he really felt. He had seen that if he should get a committal he would have much to do to complete his case to a point at which a jury’s conviction would become tolerably certain, but that was a difficulty which he was used to meet, and to overcome.
But if Mr. Garrison should refuse to commit the accused man, it would be a rebuff to the police for which he would have the major responsibility. And he could not conceal from himself that it was becoming more than a possibility. It was not only that one of the two witnesses to the event which he had produced had been disclosed as a convict now actually under the sentence of the law, and the other as a woman who had been bitterly seeking revenge on the murdered man. More or less, he had been prepared for that, though he had not anticipated that Miss Weston’s cross-examination would have developed quite as it had done. But he had discussed these difficulties with Mr. Dunkover, and they had agreed in considering them to be surmountable obstacles.
That which disturbed him most was the offensive confidence with which the eminent counsel secured by Peter Entwistle’s ill-acquired money were conducting the defence: the talk of witnesses whose identity he could not guess, but who were to be brought forward to his confusion.
He saw that the defence must have some weapon in their armoury of the nature of which he was unaware, and that was worse than to be confronted by a difficulty, however great, which he could measure and understand.
He met Mr. Dunkover leaving the court, and saw a man as professionally unruffled, and inwardly almost as perturbed as himself. Mr. Dunkover also looked defeat in the face, and recognized that it would be attributed in legal circles to the abilities of the opposing counsel. Everyone knew (it would be said) that Dunkover was no match for Huddleston — and with Pippin against him also!
But if he feared the result, he was no less resolute to put up the best fight he could, and he pointed out what he thought to be a gleam of light on an otherwise darkened sky.
“You’ll find,” he said, “that Garrison won’t be disposed to discharge the prisoner before he’s gone into the box, and when we have him there, you never know what we may get him to say. If we’d been in this position before the date when accused men were allowed to give evidence on their own behalf, I should have said it looked a good deal worse than it does now… Of course, Garrison knows that you wouldn’t have put the man in the dock unless you’d been pretty sure that he’d fill the bill, and he’ll give you every chance that he fairly can.”
“Yes,” the Inspector agreed, “I should say we can depend on him for that, but I wish I knew a bit more as to what their witnesses are going to say. You don’t think there’s any real doubt that we’ve got the right man this time?”
“I don’t think the murder was done
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