Let's Choose Executors, page 25
After a while he went out into the hall, and began to walk slowly across the flagged floor toward the courtroom. There was a uniformed attendant on duty, and a police constable near the main door, but apart from them the hall was deserted. He stopped and said on an impulse, “Do either of you happen to know a Northdean firm called Beckhoff and Manning? The ’phone book doesn’t say what they do.”
“Why, no, sir, it wouldn’t.” It was the constable who answered, turning his head from contemplation of the more animated scene beyond the open door. “Very reliable people, very discreet.”
“Yes, but . . . what are they?”
“Private Inquiry Agents, sir, I think that’s the term they use. Quite respectable. Why, even the Inspector—”
But Antony was no longer listening. The constable, happily launched on a tide of information, did not see his expression change: from indifference, to incredulity, to a blaze of excitement. What had Hugo said? She started talking about the fact that I was responsible . . . and Walter Randall, we were at Ravenscroft on Sunday, as usual. And when he himself had said to Vera that Byron’s evidence was all according to proof she hadn’t denied it. But always there had remained the puzzle of how Alice had known. “Bless you for those kind words,” he said, interrupting, and swept into the court. The doorkeeper exchanged a significant look with the policeman, and sadly shook his head.
It was later than he had realised, but luckily Mr. Justice Halford had not yet put in an appearance. Glancing across the room he saw Walter Randall was seated among the spectators, his face heavy and expressionless. Frederick Byron, who must have been expecting to continue his evidence, was being directed to a seat at the side of the court. Maitland glanced inquiringly at Appleton, and received a nod in reply; well, it had been a foregone conclusion that the prosecution wouldn’t object to an application that had the Judge’s blessing. As far as Counsel for the Crown was concerned the hearing at Chedcombe was all over bar the shouting.
But Counsel for the Defence, concealing his excitement well enough, was strolling across to have a word with the prisoner. The dock was raised only a little from the well of the court; he put his hand on the wide rail and wondered inconsequently how much longer it would be before the town council admitted that the woodworm had had the best of it and replaced the ancient timber. He said: “Fran, tell me quickly, did you tell Nancy Selkirk what Mrs. Randall meant you to do with the money?”
She leaned forward, frowning a little, trying to read what was in his mind. Something had changed him during the last few minutes, and though his voice had an urgency he looked at her in an almost impersonal way. “I didn’t tell her,” she said. “It all happened so quickly.”
“Did you tell anyone? Anyone at all?”
“No,” she said, and heard him catch his breath. For a moment he seemed almost afraid, she thought, and told herself that she was being fanciful. Then he looked at her and grinned.
“Hold your hat,” he said. “There may be squalls.” And was off to his own place.
Mr. Justice Halford was in a more complacent mood this morning. The unrest in the town had disturbed him, offending his sense of what was fitting; but that was all over now. Maitland had sounded subdued when he telephoned yesterday; whatever foolishness he had had in his head there was no doubt now he would make the desired application, and the case would be heard elsewhere. But Antony, on his feet and waiting to address him, had turned so that he could speak at once to Miss Langhorne and to Davenant, who was seated behind her. “Slight change of plan,” he said. “Bear with me.”
Vera said nothing, but gave him a look which seemed to indicate a dark suspicion of his motives. “We agreed—” said Tommy.
“Yes. Yes, I know. There isn’t time—”
“What you think best,” said Vera surprisingly. Davenant muttered something which Maitland chose to take as an agreement, but shook his head as though he still had some reservations. The Judge coughed, as he did each day when he had settled himself and his belongings to his own satisfaction. Antony turned to face him.
“There is something you wish to say, Mr. Maitland?” asked Halford, with an affectation of surprise.
“My lord, I must apologise—” The Judge cut him short at that; he’d heard all about the fracas the night before, and anyway it was manifestly impossible for Counsel to don his wig over the bandages.
“I quite appreciate your difficulty, Mr. Maitland,” he said graciously.
“Thank you, my lord.” He paused, and for a panic-stricken moment his mind was completely blank; afterward he thought that he must have been unnerved by so much judicial amiability.
“Yes, Mr. Maitland?” prompted Halford kindly.
“Your lordship is aware of the circumstances which have arisen—” This had all been written down and memorised, the words came smoothly. The Judge was nodding his approval. “ . . . but there is one thing I must do before I reach the point of making this application. Your lordship may even agree that there is no need after all for a change of venue—”
“No need?” said Halford, not at all amiable now.
“I submit, my lord, that there is no case for my client to answer.”
There was a moment of almost complete silence. The Judge’s face reddened alarmingly; Appleton made a growling noise in his throat and bounced to his feet; Maitland—aware that he should be using the time to better advantage—glanced across the room. Here in the Shire Hall the witnesses who had already given evidence were accommodated on a bench near the wall, behind the press box. There was a full muster of reporters; he wondered briefly what sort of spread there’d be in the evening papers. If he succeeded in making his point . . . but he daren’t stop to think about that now. Behind them he could see Nell Randall’s profile, as she turned to say something to Frederick Byron. The solicitor shook his head without looking at her; he was staring straight across at counsel’s table, a puzzled frown between his eyes. Beside him Mark seemed to have drawn himself as far into the corner as possible; he looked sullen and uninterested, as though what was going on was no concern of his.
There was no time for a further survey. Mr. Justice Halford cleared his throat again, directed an admonitory glance in Appleton’s direction, and said in a displeased tone: “I must suppose you are serious in making this submission.”
“Oh, yes, my lord.”
The Judge inclined his head. “Then I will hear you, Mr. Maitland,” he said grimly.
Up to that moment Antony hadn’t stopped to think how he was to explain his ideas to anyone else. “I shall endeavour not to weary your lordship,” he said, stalling; and bowed. He felt rather than heard that Appleton had subsided into his place again. Vera Langhorne was breathing heavily beside him. Perhaps it was just as well he couldn’t see Tommy Davenant’s expression.
“You have heard the case presented so ably by my learned friend for the prosecution, and I am sure you have the main facts in mind. Let me say at the outset that about many of these facts there is no dispute; it is the Crown’s interpretation of them which is in question. I am going to tell you what really happened at Ravenscroft last New Year’s Eve.”
“But first I must go back a little. The deceased, Mrs. Alice Randall, wished to create a trust for a young lady, not a member of her family, and she wished to do this in a way that would give rise to as little comment as possible. In the event, things didn’t turn out quite as she had expected; but she cannot have foreseen the manner of her own death.”
“So, because she had confidence in her god-daughter, Frances Gifford—the girl who is now accused of poisoning her—she arranged to leave her a substantial sum of money. We are not concerned with Alice Randall’s previous will, but only with her dispositions as they stood at the time of her death. She arranged to see Miss Gifford, to tell her of the legacy and give her instructions as to its disposal. The name of the girl who was to be benefited in this roundabout way was Nancy Selkirk.”
The Judge’s eyes were fixed watchfully on Counsel’s face. He moved now, leaning forward as though he felt they might deceive him. “Mr. Maitland, I cannot permit you to bring before the court matters which have not been referred to in evidence.”
“The point is susceptible of proof, my lord.”
“That does not concern us,” said Halford with finality.
“But your lordship will not forbid me to give my client’s own account of events. And I am sure my friend will have no quarrel with my contention that the motive for Mrs. Randall’s murder concerned this girl.”
There was a little stir of interest in the silent room. Appleton was drumming his fingers on the table in front of him; his lips tightened a little as Maitland spoke, but he did not attempt to interrupt. Fran Gifford had made an abrupt gesture of protest at the first mention of Nancy’s name; now she was staring at her Counsel with a kind of horrified fascination. Halford said brusquely: “You may refer to the prisoner’s statement, Mr. Maitland. Otherwise you must confine yourself to the established facts.”
“I am obliged to your lordship.” The Judge may have suspected sarcasm, but Antony’s gratitude was genuine enough. “From the prosecution we have learned something of the events which preceded Alice Randall’s death. On Christmas Day she confiscated a quantity of digitoxin, a dangerous poison derived from the common foxglove, from her grandson, Mark Randall. She placed the test tube containing this substance in her workbox, which was kept in her own sitting room at Ravenscroft. On Friday, December 27th, she visited her solicitor, Mr. Frederick Byron, with instructions for the new codicil to her will; Mr. Byron, as you have been told, is the senior partner in the firm of Byron and Davenant, of this town. He has told us that he attempted to dissuade his client from her intended course of action, so far as it was proper for him to do so.”
“On Monday, December 30th, the new codicil was already prepared, and was lying among other papers on Mr. Byron’s desk. On the morning of that day Miss Gifford, who, as you know, was Mr. Davenant’s clerk up to the time of her arrest, was looking for the draft of a lease which was ready for engrossment. She was glancing through a pile of documents, and looking more closely at any one which might have been what she needed; and so she came across the codicil, and saw her own name. Having no previous knowledge of Mrs. Randall’s intentions, she was upset by what she saw; too upset to speak of the matter even to her friend, Miss Elsie Barber, who was Mr. Byron’s clerk. She had had no expectation of being remembered in her god-mother’s will, except in a very small way.” He was improvising unashamedly, but Halford wasn’t to know that. And it didn’t seem likely that Appleton would protest; there seemed nothing here to help the defence.
“In the afternoon came Mrs. Randall, to sign the codicil. We know several things about that visit: her intentions remained unaltered; she signed in the presence of Mr. Davenant and Miss Barber; before she left she spoke alone to Miss Gifford in the main office, asking her to visit Ravenscroft the next evening.”
“Now, remember that Miss Gifford already knew the contents of the codicil; she guessed Mrs. Randall wished to speak to her about this, and I think her curiosity, if nothing else, would have prompted her to accept the invitation. But she had another reason; like Mr. Byron, she wanted to ask the old lady to change her mind.”
“That may be true, my lord,” said Appleton, on his feet again. “We have no evidence of it.”
Maitland was far too engrossed now to be put off his stroke by the interruption. “My friend,” he said, “has outlined a case which is purely circumstantial. I may surely be permitted a similar latitude.”
“I am not at all sure,” said Halford, “that I see the force of your argument.” The reporters’ pencils were racing; he was uneasily aware of the interest that was being aroused.
“Your lordship has already indicated that I may refer to Miss Gifford’s statement.”
Well, that was true enough. “You may continue for the moment, Mr. Maitland; but I should advise you to be careful.”
“Agag in person, my lord,” said Counsel, and disconcerted the Judge by grinning at him. Then he paused, looking around deliberately, reclaiming the attention of the court. “That brings us,” he said, “to the day of the tragedy itself.”
“I suppose you would say we are progressing,” said Halford sourly.
“Mrs. Randall was alone in her sitting room when Fran Gifford came to Ravenscroft; after the housemaid, Sophie, had left with her escort only the cook remained in the house, and she is deaf. Now, I think you will agree with me that, although my learned friend has described most graphically what happened that evening, he has not produced an eyewitness who saw Miss Gifford place the contents of the test tube into the hot toddy she prepared at her godmother’s request. His case rests on motive, and his explanations are ingenious; but there is an alternative explanation. One which I think you will agree, when you have heard the facts, has an even greater plausibility.”
“The facts, Mr. Maitland?” said Halford, coming to life again and fixing him with a steely eye. “You are still speaking of the facts?”
“I meant of course—as your lordship is kind enough to point out—my interpretation of the facts,” said Maitland. He was getting to the tricky part now, and he had a nasty feeling he was going to have to fight the Judge every inch of the way, not to mention the fact that it might dawn on Appleton at any moment that Fran’s statement, as quoted, was not precisely as she had given it to the police. “As Miss Gifford expected, the old lady had asked her to Ravenscroft to tell her about the legacy, and to give her instructions as to what was to be done with the money.” He hesitated, and looked across at Fran Gifford and smiled at her. “In effect, her inheritance was to be held in trust for Miss Nancy Selkirk—”
“Why?” said the Judge.
“My lord, this is a matter not entirely covered by my client’s statement,” said Counsel apologetically.
“Nevertheless, Mr. Maitland—”
“Miss Selkirk was the mother of an illegitimate child, my lord. This child was Mrs. Randall’s great-grandson.” He managed to sound as if this was the last thing he had wanted to say. There was a pause while Halford worked that out. “Was?” he asked. “Miss Selkirk is dead, my lord.” Appleton coughed, and Counsel for the Defence turned to look down at him. “The fact does not form part of my client’s statement, he admitted, “nor could it have been given in evidence. Nancy Selkirk was murdered—strangled—on Saturday evening last.”
Oddly, Halford issued no reproof; perhaps he felt justified in recognizing a fact as well known to all present as the date of Christmas. He said slowly: “This statement you made about the child . . . surely, if it is true, the deceased lady would have told your client.”
“She did, my lord, but she was herself misinformed. She told Miss Gifford that the father was Hugo Randall—”
“If I have understood the evidence, this Hugo Randall is her grandson.”
“One of her grandsons, my lord.”
“All this is very irregular, Mr. Maitland,” said Halford plaintively. “Is it in any way relevant to your submission?”
“In two ways, my lord. It explains Miss Gifford’s distress that evening . . . a matter which my friend has asked the jury to believe is indicative of her guilt. And it brings me to the motive for Mrs. Randall’s murder.”
“Does it?” said the Judge weakly.
“The prosecution has rightly laid great stress on the question of motive. I want to show you that there was a man who had more reason than my client to wish Alice Randall dead.”
“What man?” asked Halford. His tone was pettish.
“If your lordship will assume for a moment the truth of my statement—”
“I will assume anything, Mr. Maitland, anything at all, if only you will come to the point.”
“But, my lord—” said Appleton.
“A hypothesis only. You understand that this is to be taken as a hypothesis only, Mr. Maitland?”
“I am obliged to your lordship.” (Why had he started this? He wasn’t getting anywhere, he wasn’t going to get anywhere.) “Let me tell you a few things about this man . . . this hypothetical murderer. He is acquainted with Alice Randall; well acquainted, we must assume, since he wishes her dead.”
“If he exists, Mr. Maitland . . . if he exists.” Halford sounded cross.
“As your lordship pleases. So far as it goes, I have no fault to find with the prosecution’s account of the events of New Year’s Eve. Miss Gifford went to Ravenscroft and spent about an hour with Mrs. Randall. She was told of the digitoxin; it sounds, indeed, as if the old lady was so indignant that she showed the test tube and made her complaint to everyone she saw. Before Miss Gifford left, she plugged in the electric kettle and mixed the toddy; then she waited until the kettle boiled and left in a hurry to catch her bus. Alice Randall didn’t go upstairs immediately, she stayed by the fire in her sitting room, waiting for the toddy to be cool enough to drink. And while she sat there another visitor arrived.”
“My learned friend has a lively imagination,” said Counsel for the Prosecution suddenly. Maitland bowed, accepting as a compliment a remark that had obviously a very different intent.
“You may think it was an odd time for a visit, that the visitor must have had a very good reason for coming to Ravenscroft at that hour. But he knew, you see—or thought he knew—that on that particular evening Alice Randall would be alone.”
“There was no evidence that anyone else had been there that night,” Appleton protested.
“I doubt if he advertised his presence. The cook was deaf, and if he tapped on the window—”
“I thought I had made it clear, Mr. Maitland, that the court is interested only in facts.”
