Malice Aforethought

by Francis Iles

  The worst of it was that Sir Francis had all along refused point-blank to attack Madeleine. He had considered it thoroughly bad policy, in view of her recent widowhood and the effect she would undoubtedly make on the court. He had said, with the utmost casualness, that he intended to leave his line of cross-examination till the time came; he would consider Madeleine when she gave her evidence, and decide then and there what line to take with her. And now he was taking no line at all. Simply giving the case away. Good God, leading her on to more and more outrageous statements and innuendoes against himself; that was what he was doing. Dr. Bickleigh grew more and more frantic.

  It was a glimpse at the Attorney-General’s face that made him think. Sir Bernard was leaning back with his eyes on the ceiling and an expression of such utter blankness that it must have been concealing some inward sorrow. Dr. Bickleigh gazed at him for a moment in astonishment, for Sir Bernard ought to have been looking extremely happy at having his case won for him like this; yet undoubtedly Sir Bernard was not. Dr. Bickleigh turned his attention back to his own counsel, and began to listen with reason instead of emotion. The next moment he understood— and in the reaction of the moment uttered a sharp little laugh. The judge frowned on him, but Dr. Bickleigh did not care. For once Madeleine had over-reached herself.

  “Now, Mrs. Bourne, it distresses me to have to intrude on your recent great sorrow,” Sir Francis had said diffidently (he had a curiously diffident manner which was rather charming), “but it is my duty to ask you this: were you and your husband a few months ago not contemplating a divorce?”

  “Certainly not,” said Madeleine indignantly, while ears everywhere were pricked up.

  “You swear to that?”

  “Really, Sir Bernard,” interposed the judge, “is this relevant?”

  “Quite, your lordship. It will be apparent in a moment. You swear to that, Mrs. Bourne?”

  “Certainly I do,” Madeleine replied, with womanly dignity.

  “But—well, to put it bluntly, you and your husband did not get on well together?” apologised Sir Francis.

  “My husband and I loved each other very dearly.” Madeleine rolled her eyes at the judge in mute appeal.

  The judge rolled his eyes at Sir Francis, but without effect.

  “But, like most married people, you had your quarrels?” suggested Sir Francis, with a deprecatory smile.

  “We had only been married eighteen months.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind answering my question, Mrs. Bourne?”

  Madeleine drew herself up. “If I must, the answer is ‘No.’ My husband and I had never quarrelled.”

  It was at this point that Dr. Bickleigh laughed. Never quarrelled, when it had been notorious in Wyvern’s Cross that . . . But no doubt the woman really believed it. Her powers of self-deception were incredible. Yes, no doubt she had already, in the brief weeks of her widowhood, persuaded herself that her short married life had been idyllic. Now he saw what Sir Francis was getting at.

  “But, like most women,” pursued Sir Francis diffidently, “you had your moments of jealousy?”

  “Certainly not. My husband had never given me cause for such a thing.”

  “Oh, not after your marriage, no doubt. But before it. You never expressed jealousy of the women your husband had been fond of before he met you?”

  Madeleine hesitated. The judge shuffled his papers uneasily.

  “I’m afraid I must press you for an answer, Mrs. Bourne.”

  “No, never!”

  Sir Francis suddenly shed his diffident manner. He glared at her. “Perhaps you will tell me that you did not keep him up till four o’clock in the morning for nights—for weeks on end, till his health was seriously affected, while you raved at him over the women he had loved before he even knew of your existence?”

  Madeleine shrank back in the box and went sallowly pale. Her mouth set like a rat-trap.

  The judge leaned forward. “Sir Francis, I must ask you to justify this remarkable line of cross-examination. I have allowed you considerable latitude, but I cannot see that the examination of this witness has made it relevant for—”

  “Certainly, my lord,” snapped Sir Francis, leaping for this opportunity. “My cross-examination is directed to establish that the evidence given by this witness is totally unreliable: that she is notoriously untruthful, malicious, and mentally unbalanced. And I intend to call evidence of my own to prove this.”

  As the newspapers again had it: sensation.

  Dr. Bickleigh leaned over the dock, his face blazing with joy. He could have embraced his counsel on both cheeks. For the third time in his life that unbodily exaltation lifted him into a sphere of delirious happiness.

  “You realise, of course, what you are doing, Sir Francis?” The judge had recovered himself, if others had not.

  “Perfectly, my lord. My client is prepared to face any cross-examination of a personal nature. He has nothing to conceal.”

  The judge glanced at the clock. The time was a quarter to four. “Nevertheless, I think I will adjourn the court now, to give you an opportunity to think things over.”

  “That is very kind of your lordship. I am much indebted.”

  5

  GUNHILL WAS nearly as excited as Dr. Bickleigh himself. “The case is as good as won. He led her on, you see, till she’d contradicted herself on a few small points, and then established her in the mood he wanted. Naturally she played up. Then he came out into the open.”

  “But you haven’t got the evidence about . . .”

  “Oh, yes, we have. Indeed we have. Most certainly. I followed up that line of enquiry very closely indeed, you may be sure of that. Mrs. Bourne’s evidence was the only really damaging thing against you, and if we could discredit that . . . You may be sure I concentrated on that line very closely.”

  “But you said—Sir Francis pretended . . .”

  “He didn’t want you told, in case he changed his line at the last minute. He wanted to get the exact impression she made on the jury first. Now we can go ahead. I can tell you now, Bickleigh, we’ve got the most conclusive evidence both of her untruthfulness and her lack of balance too, to say nothing of her downright malice towards yourself.”

  “I’ve always said she was mad,” exulted Dr. Bickleigh. “Not certifiable, unfortunately; but certainly over the border-line. I told you so dozens of times.”

  “Exactly. Precisely. And very fortunate that you did so. And the beauty of the position, you see,” said Mr. Gunhill, rubbing his hands so vigorously that they positively rasped, “is that, though they’re entitled now to attack your personal character, to do so will only damage their own case. If you’ve been frank with me (and of course you have, of course), there’s nothing for them to attack you on except your somewhat—well, shall we say indiscriminate relations with women? And it won’t benefit them at all to show you as indiscriminate. Their whole case rests on your affection for one single woman. The more women, the less motive.”

  “Of course,” Dr. Bickleigh grinned. “Very funny.”

  “Anyhow I think—yes, I think that will be the end of Mrs. Bourne.”

  It was.

  The next morning, in place of Madeleine a medical certificate arrived to the effect that Mrs. Bourne was in bed, suffering from nervous prostration and shock, and was not in a fit state to attend the court. Sir Francis looked at the jury so meaningly that they felt quite uncomfortable.

  Dr. Bickleigh sat back in his chair in the dock and prepared to listen to the evidence of Chatford with nothing but an academic interest. As Gunhill said, the case was won already.

  Chatford certainly did not advance the cause of the prosecution very much. His evidence was limited to his own participation in the attempted poisoning case, the tea-party, his own subsequent illness, Dr. Bickleigh’s attempts to see him, and their sequel. It was all very vague. Dr. Bickleigh’s serenity grew. Really, if this was the best they could do . . . Why, it was all innuendo and inference; nothing definite at al
l. Sir Francis handled Chatford very nastily in cross-examination too. Hinted at his jealousy and malicious feelings towards the prisoner, just eliciting enough to be able to damage the value of his evidence; leaving the suggestion that Chatford was a vindictive busybody. It was all very clever.

  The medical evidence came next, headed by Lydston. Even Lydston Dr. Bickleigh found he could listen to without anger—Lydston reciting in his precise tones the unprofessional conduct of the prisoner, his diagnosis without any examination at all, the startling nature of that diagnosis, and the way he and Chatford had conspired to do their piece of play-acting. That play-acting—well, talk of unprofessional conduct! Towards the end of all this Dr. Bickleigh did begin to feel a little uneasy. Lydston was damnably convincing. But the cross-examination, eliciting Lydston’s admission that he had wilfully deceived the prisoner as to Chatford’s symptoms and so could not be surprised at whatever he diagnosed, went some way to restore the balance.

  Sir Tamerton Foliott’s evidence confirmed this restoration. It was most impressive, but did not amount to much; however, what was there was almost more helpful to the defence than to the prosecution.

  Sir Tamerton was followed by the various experts. Dr. Ryder, bacteriologist to the Home Office, came first—a large man with a big black beard, who spoke with extreme confidence. Invited by the Attorney-General to tell the court what he had discovered with regard to the culture submitted to him for examination, he did so with gusto.

  “The medium submitted to me for examination was an ordinary gelatin plate. There were several colonies on the plate, all presenting the thin, notched, irregular appearance of the colon-typhoid group. I carried out the usual processes, and identified the different organisms. I identified bacillus coli communis, bacillus enteritidis, bacillus paratyphosus B., bacillus typhosus, bacillus aertrycke, and others of this same group. Bacillus enteritidis, or Gaertner’s bacillus very decidedly predominated.”

  “Thank you, doctor. And as regards the contents of the capsule, which you also examined?”

  “This contained a small portion of gelatin which corresponded in shape and size with a gap on one edge of the gelatin plate. On this portion was a group of bacillus enteritidis only; no other organism was present except bacillus enteritidis. This applies equally to the residue of the potted meat, which was also submitted to me for examination. This contained bacillus enteritidis only.”

  “I see. To the layman, bacillus enteritidis means the germ which produces typhoid fever?”

  “That is so.”

  “Perhaps you would explain to the jury the leading characteristics of this bacillus?”

  “Certainly,” agreed Dr. Ryder heartily, and turned to the jury. “Bacillus enteritidis, or Gaertner’s bacillus, is a leading member of the large colon-typhoid group. As regards its morphology, it is actively motile, carries several flagellæ, forms no spores, and is Gram-negative. Like all others of this group, it is aerobic; it grows well on ordinary media and is easy to cultivate. So far as concerns its cultural characteristics, it ferments glucose, lævulose, maltose, glactose, arabinose, raffinose, mannite, sorbite, dulcite, and dextrin, with production of acid and gas, but has no action on saccharose nor, as a rule, on salicin and glycerin. It gives very little or no indole, and does not give the Voges-Proskauer reaction. In litmus milk—”

  The Attorney-General managed to stem this flow. “Yes, but if you could manage to put it a little less technically, doctor. And I was meaning, more particularly, its effects on the human frame?”

  “Oh, I beg your pardon. Well, it is established now that bacillus enteritidis is the most frequent cause of meat poisoning. It has been discovered in meat from pigs, cattle, horses, and fish. Symptoms are due to action of the toxins, and their onset is generally rapid, not to say sudden.”

  “And these symptoms are?”

  “Usually, vomiting, diarrhoea, pains in the abdomen and head, prostration, collapse, cold sweats, rigors, cramps, rashes, and furred tongue,” replied Dr. Ryder with gusto.

  “Exactly. Now, you have heard Mrs. Bourne’s and Mr. Chatford’s symptoms described in court here. Is it your opinion that these are consistent with poisoning by bacillus enteritidis?”

  “Entirely consistent.”

  “And you actually identified this organism in Mr. Chatford’s eliminations?”

  “I did.”

  “You have no doubt that Mr. Chatford’s illness and Mrs. Bourne’s indisposition were caused by this typhoid bacillus having found its way into their systems?”

  “None at all.”

  “Now, you examined the gelatin plate also for bacillus botulinus, the germ which causes the disease known as botulism? Did you find any?”

  “None.”

  “Could you have expected to do so?”

  “No, I could not. Bacillus botulinus is anaerobic. In other words, it dies if exposed to the air. The medium as prepared was suitable for aerobic organisms only. Bacillus botulinus could not have survived. Nor were there any traces of this bacillus in the eliminations.”

  “Are the symptoms of botulism similar to those produced by bacillus enteritidis, which is the germ of typhoid, or enteric fever?”

  “Certainly not. They are totally different. In the case of botulism the symptoms are headache, dizziness, followed by diplopia, partial ptosis of both eyelids, dilated pupils, paralysis of the facial muscles, the larynx and the pharynx, with stasis of the intestines, giving rise to constipation. Vomiting is usually absent.”

  “So that in many ways the symptoms of botulism are directly opposite to those produced by bacillus enteritidis?”

  “That is so.”

  “In your opinion would it be possible for a medical man, judging the case on the symptoms alone, to diagnose a case of poisoning by bacillus enteritidis as botulism?”

  “Not if he was in his sane senses,” replied Dr. Ryder robustly.

  The Attorney-General went on to persuade his witness to translate some of his earlier technicalities into language more fitted to the comprehension of ten farmers and two professional men.

  Dr. Bickleigh was amused how useful his blunders in bacteriology were proving. In his case a little knowledge was a blessed thing. If he had made his culture of bacillus botulinus properly, instead of managing to cultivate apparently every possible other bacillus that had been present in the Sampford boy except this particular one, it might have looked very nasty for him indeed. He also congratulated himself most warmly on the artistic feeling which had caused him to infect the residue of the potted meat with such admirable results.

  The Attorney-General proceeded to dispel this complacency. Reverting to the gelatin plate, he asked blandly whether the cultures on that might have been obtained from the potted meat. Dr. Ryder was emphatic that they could not. Only one organism was present in the potted meat; this would not account for bacillus paratyphosus B, bacillus typhosus, and the rest on the plate. How then, in his opinion, might such a plate have been prepared? Sir Francis objected, and the judge allowed the objection; such a very speculative question could not be permitted. The Attorney-General contented himself with getting his witness’s repeated assertions that such a possibility was untenable; the infection of the potted meat might have come from one of the cultures of bacillus enteritidis on the plate; the plate could not have been infected from the potted meat alone.

  Naturally the defence had had their eyes opened by their own experts to this fact, but Dr. Bickleigh did not at all like the Attorney-General’s very emphatic handling of it.

  In cross-examination the explanation was put forward, and Dr. Ryder quite admitted its feasibility. The predominance of bacillus enteritidis showed that the greater part of the cultures did, in fact, come from the potted meat; the remaining organisms which, though present in quantity, were so much less prevalent, were due to another experiment which Dr. Bickleigh had made at the same time on the same gelatin-plate with eliminations from the district isolation hospital. (Fortunately Dr. Bickleigh had had a
patient in the isolation hospital at the time to account for a visit there.) In re-examination, however, he quite agreed with the Attorney-General that it was exceedingly odd to make two different cultural experiments on the same plate, and not to say valueless, for the more powerful organism would only overrun and destroy the weaker one; moreover he would, in this case, have expected to find the cultures in a decidedly less advanced state. In further cross-examination he could not be made to retract this, but only to repeat that nevertheless the explanation of the defence was quite consistent with the facts as he observed them.

  On the whole a witness by no means helpful to the defence, felt Dr. Bickleigh, as he watched the broad back disappear with considerable relief. It had been a nasty couple of hours.

  The evidence of Dr. Sourby, the Home Office pathologist, who followed, though lengthy, amounted to nothing more than that he had been able to find in the body of Mrs. Bickleigh no traces of natural disease: certainly nothing to account for her headaches and ill-health: no, there had been no neoplasm on the brain. In cross-examination, he agreed that not only was death perfectly consistent with an overdose of morphia, but that from the post-mortem appearances which he had heard described this was almost certainly the cause. Dr. Sourby was confirmed in this opinion by Sir James Clerihew, Medical Adviser to the Home Office. As, however, the cause of death was not in question, this did not advance matters much either way. Dr. Bickleigh grew more and more bored. He was rather proud of being bored. Had anyone ever been bored with his own trial for murder before? Hardly. But, really, there seemed nothing to go on with, now that Madeleine had been so effectively quashed. Compared with that, nothing else seriously counted.

  The next witness, however, imported a little more interest into the proceedings. This was Mr. Pymm, the Senior Official Analyst to the Home Office. He had to admit that in the organs handed to him for examination by Dr. Sourby he had been unable to find traces of any poison at all. The morphia, which it was in evidence that Mrs. Bickleigh had been taking in such large doses, would in any case have disappeared after such a lapse of time, as would any other vegetable poison; but of any metallic poison, such as arsenic, there was no trace at all. The only unusual substances which he had discovered were vanadium, present in surprisingly large quantities, and a very little gold. He had been quite unable to account for the presence of these two, so rarely used in medicine.