While H.M. gobbled at a glass of water, one of the warders in the dock touched Answell's arm. The door in the dock was unlocked, and he was led down through the well of the court. He walked nervously, without looking at the jury as he passed. His neck-tie was a little loose from much fingering; and his hand would go up to it frequently. Again we had an opportunity of studying someone under fire. Answell's^ light hair was parted on one side; he had good features which showed imagination and sensitiveness rather than a high intelligence; and his only movement, aside from touching his tie or moving his big shoulders slightly, was to glance up at the roof of the witness-box. In this roof there is a concealed mirror - a relic of the days when light was thus focused - and it seemed to fascinate him at times. His eyes looked a little sunken and completely fixed.
Despite H.M.'s truculence - he was drinking water with the effect of gargling it -1 knew he was worried. This was the turn of the case. During the time a prisoner is in the box (usually more than an hour and sometimes a day) he carries his fate in his mouth every second. It is a good man who will not falter before the pulverizing cross-examination that is waiting for him.
H.M.'s manner was deceptively easy.
'Now, son. Your name?'
'James Caplon Answell,' said the other.
Although he was speaking in a very low tone, hardly audible, his voice flew off at a tangent. He cleared his throat a few times, turning his head away to do so, and then gave a half-guilty glance at the judge.
'You've got no occupation, and you live at 23 Duke Street?'
'Yes. That is - I lived there.'
'At about the end of December last, did you become engaged to be married to Miss Mary Hume?' 'Yes.'
'Where were you then?'
'At Mr and Mrs Stoneman's house at Frawnend, in Sussex.'
H.M. led him gently through the part about the letters, but it did not put him at his ease. 'On the Friday - that's January 3rd - did you decide to go up to town next day?'
'Yes.'
"Why did you decide to do that?' An indistinguishable mutter.
'You will have to speak up,' said the judge sharply. 'We cannot hear a word you are saying.'
Answell looked round; but the fixed, sunken expression of his eyes never altered. With some effort he found his voice, and seemed to catch up things in the middle of a sentence. and I wanted to buy an engagement ring. I had not got one yet'
'You wanted to buy an engagement ring’ repeated H.M., keeping his tone to an encouraging growl. 'When did you decide to go? I mean, what part of Friday d'you decide this?'
'Late Friday night.'
'Uh-huh. What made you think of this trip?'
'My cousin Reg was going up to town that evening, and he asked me whether he could get an engagement ring for me.' A long pause. 'It was the first time I had thought of it.' Another long pause. 'I suppose I should have thought of it sooner.'
'Did you tell Miss Hume you were goin'?'
'Yes, naturally,' replied Answell, with a sudden and queer ghost of a smile which vanished immediately.
'Did you know that on this Friday evening she had put through a telephone-call to her father in London?'
'No, I did not know it then. I learned it afterwards.'
'Was it before or after this call that you decided to come to town next day?'
'Afterwards.'
'Yes. What happened then?'
'Happened? Oh, I see what you mean,' said the other, as though with relief. 'She said she would write a note to her father, and she sat down and wrote one.'
'Did you see this note?'
‘Yes.’
'In this note, did it mention what train you were takin' in the morning?'
'Yes, the nine o'clock from Frawnend station.'
'That's about an hour and three-quarters' run, ain't it? Thereabouts?'
'Yes, on a fast train. It is not quite as far as Chichester.'
'Did the note mention both the time of departure and the time of gettin' there?'
‘Yes, ten-forty-five at Victoria. It's the train Mary herself always takes when she goes up.'
'So he knew the train pretty well, eh?' 'He must have.'
H.M. was allowing him plenty of time, and handling him with the softest of gloves. Answell, with the same fixed and sunken look, usually started off a sentence clearly, but allowed it to tail off.
'What'd you do after you got to London?'
'I - I went and bought a ring. And some other business.'
'And after that?'
'I went to my flat.'
'What time did you get there?'
'About twenty-five minutes past one.'
'Was that when the deceased rang you up?'
'Yes, about one-thirty.'
H.M. leaned forward, humping his shoulders and spreading out his big hands on the desk. At the same time the prisoner's own hands began to tremble badly. He looked up at the edge of the roof over the box; it was as though they were approaching some climax where wires must not be drawn too tightly or they would snap.
'Now, you've heard it testified that the deceased had already rung up your flat many times that mornin', without getting an answer?'
'Yes.’
'In fact, he was ringin' up that flat as early as nine o'clock in the morning?' 'Yes.'
'You heard Dyer say that?' 'Yes.'
'Uh-huh. But he must have known perfectly well he couldn't get you, mustn't he? At nine o'clock you were just leavin' Frawnend, on an hour and three-quarters' journey. There were the times of arrival and departure smack in front of him, on a train his daughter frequently took. He must have known - mustn't he? - that it'd be two hours before he could hope to get you?'
'I should have thought so.'
('What on earth is the man doing?' demanded Evelyn in my ear. 'Pulling his own witness to pieces?)
'Now let's take this phone conversation. What did the deceased say?'
Answell's account was the same as the others'. He had begun to speak with a terrible earnestness.
'Was there anything in what the deceased said that you could take offence at?'
'No, no, nothing at all.'
'What'd you think of it, in general?'
'Well, he did not sound exactly friendly, but then some people are like that. I thought he was just being reserved.'
'Was there any dark secret in your life that you thought he'd discovered?'
'Not that I know of. I never thought of it.'
'When you went along to see him that evenin', did you take your cousin's gun with you?'
'I - did - not. Why should I?'
'You got to the deceased's house at ten minutes past six? Yes. Now, we've heard how you dropped your hat, and seemed in a temper, and refused to take your overcoat off. Son, what was the real reason for all that conduct?'
Mr Justice Rankin interposed during the prisoner's quick mutter. 'If you are to do yourself any good, you must speak up. What did you say? I cannot hear.'
The prisoner turned towards him and made a baffled kind of gesture with his hands.
'My lord, I wanted to make as good an impression as I could.' Pause. 'Especially as he had not sounded - you know, cordial, over the phone.' Pause. 'Then, when I went in, my hat slipped out of my hands. It made me mad. I did not want to look like -'
'Like a what? What did you say?'
'Like a damned fool.'
'"Like a damned fool,"' repeated the judge without inflection. 'Go on.'
H.M. extended a hand. 'I suppose young fellers calling on their in-laws for the first time often do feel just as you did. What about the overcoat?'
'I didn't mean it. I didn't want to say it. But after I had said it I could not take it back, or it would have seemed worse."
'Worse?'
'More like an ass,' blurted the witness. 'Very well. You were taken back to the deceased? Yes. What was his manner towards you?' 'Reserved and - queer.'
'Let's make that clearer, son. Just what d'you mean, "queer"?'
'
I do not know.' Pause. 'Queer.'
'Well, tell the jury what you said to each other.'
'He noticed me looking at those arrows on the wall. I asked him if he was interested in archery. He began talking about playing bows and arrows in the north when he was a boy, and how it was fashionable here in London. He said the arrows were trophies of what he called the "annual wardmote" of the Woodmen of Kent. He said: "At those meets, whoever first hits the gold becomes Master Forester for the next year."'
'"The gold?"' repeated H.M. in a rumbling voice. ‘ "The gold?" What did he mean by that?'
'I asked him that, and he said he meant the centre of the target. When he said this, he looked straight at me in an odd kind of way -'
'Explain that. Just take it easy, now
Again Answell gestured. 'Well, as though he thought that I had come fortune-hunting. That is the impression I got.'
'As though you'd come fortune-huntin’. But I s'pose, whatever else you could be called, you couldn't be called a fortune-hunter?'
'I hope not.'
'What did he say then?'
'He looked at his fingers, and looked hard at me, and said: "You could kill a man with one of those arrows."'
'Yes; after that?' prodded H.M. gently.
'I thought I had better change the subject. So I tried to be light about it, and I said: "Well, sir, I didn't come here to steal the spoons, or to murder anyone unless it becomes absolutely necessary."'
'Oh?' roared H.M. 'You used the expression, "I didn't come here to steal the spoons," before you said the rest of it. We haven't heard that, y'know. You said that?'
'Yes. I know I said that first, because I was still thinking about "the gold" and wondering what he had in mind. It was only natural.'
'I agree with you. And then?'
'I thought it was no good beating about the bush any longer, so I just said: "I want to marry Miss Hume, and what about it?"'
H.M. took him slowly through the statement about pouring out the whisky.
'I'm goin’ to ask you to be very careful now. I want you to tell us just exactly what he said after he poured out that whisky: every look and gesture, mind, as far as you remember it.'
'He said: "May I wish you prosperity?" and his expression seemed to change, and become - I did not like it. He said: "Mr James Caplon Answell", to the air, as though he were repeating it. Then he looked at me and said: "That marriage would be advantageous - to both sides, I might say."'
H.M.'s lifted hand stopped him.
'Just a minute. Be careful. He said: "That marriage", did he? He didn't say: "This marriage"?'
'No, he did not.'
'Go on.'
'Then he said: "As you know, I have already given my consent to it."'
'Let me repeat that,' interposed H.M. quickly. He lifted his blunt fingers and checked off the words. 'What he actually said was: "That marriage would be advantageous; I have already given my consent to it"?' 'Yes.'
‘I see. And then, son?'
'He said: "I can find absolutely nothing against it. I had the honour to be acquainted with the late Lady Answell, and I know that your family financial position is sound."'
'Wait again! Did he say: "Your financial position" or "Your family financial position"?'
'It was "Your family financial position." Then he said: "Therefore I propose to tell you -" That was all I heard, distinctly. There was a drug in that whisky, and it got me."
H.M. exhaled a deep breath, and shook his gown; but he kept on steadily in that rumbling monotone.
'Right here let's cut back to the telephone conversation by which you got summoned to Grosvenor Street. The deceased knew you were comin' to London by a train that left Frawnend at nine o'clock?'
'He must have.'
'He also knew - didn't he? - that the train wouldn't arrive until ten-forty-five; and that he couldn't possibly get in touch with you before eleven?'
'Mary told him so.'
'Exactly. Yet he still kept ringin' up your flat incessantly from as early as nine in the morning - when you hadn't started from Frawnend?'
'Yes.'
'When you talked to him over the phone at one-thirty on Saturday afternoon, had you ever heard his voice before, or seen him?'
'No.'
'I want to hear about the beginnin' of that conversation on the telephone. Just tell us how it began.'
'The phone rang,' replied Answell in a calm voice. ‘I picked up the receiver (he illustrated). I was sitting on the couch, and I reached over after it while I was looking at a newspaper. Mr Hume spoke. At that time I thought he said: "I want to speak to Caplon Answell." So I said: "Speaking."' H.M. leaned forward.
'Oh? You thought he said: "I want to speak to Caplon Answell." But later, when you looked back on it, did you realize he said something different?'
'Yes, I did. I knew it must be.'
'What did he really say, then?'
'Something different.'
'Did he really say this? Did he really say "I want to speak to CAPTAIN Answell"?' 'Yes.'
H.M. dropped his brief on the desk. He folded his arms, and spoke with a ferocious gentleness.
'In short,' said H.M., 'during that whole conversation, and afterwards at his own house, he thought he was talkin' to your cousin, Captain Reginald Answell: didn't he?'
XI
'In Camera'
FOR perhaps ten seconds there was not so much as a whisper or a creak in the court-room. I imagined I could hear people breathe. The implication penetrated slowly; we had seen it suddenly appear and come closer; but it had to be adjusted to the case, and I wondered whether the judge would allow it. The prisoner, whose tired face now wore a sardonic look, seemed challenging Reginald Answell to meet his eye. Reginald did not. His back was to the witness-box as he sat at the solicitors' table; he had his hand on the water-bottle, and he scarcely appeared to have heard. His saturnine face, with hair the same colour as the prisoner's, showed only a rather bored astonishment.
'Yes, I mean that man there,' insisted H.M., drawing attention to him.
Captain Reginald shook his head and smiled contemptuously. Sir Walter Storm rose in full panoply.
'My lord,' he snapped, 'may I suggest that the prisoner is hardly an authority on what Mr Hume may or may not have been thinking?'
The judge considered, rubbing his temples lightly with his small hands.
'The point is well taken, Sir Walter. At the same time, if Sir Henry has any evidence to put forward in this matter, I think we may allow him some latitude.' He looked at H.M. with sharpness.
'Yes, my lord, we got the evidence.'
'Then continue; but remember that the prisoner's suspicions are not evidence.'
Although the Attorney-General sat down without attack it was clear that he had declared war. H.M. turned again to Answell.
'About this telephone-call which we're trying to explain: your cousin had come up to London the night before, hadn't he?'
'Yes, from the same place I was staying.'
'And, when he was in London, he always stayed at your flat? I think we've heard that testified here?'
'That is true.'
'So, if the deceased wanted to get in touch with him, it's natural that he should have rung up your flat as early as nine on Saturday morning?'
'Yes.'
'When you went to Grosvenor Street on Saturday evenin', was your first name mentioned at any time?'
'No. I said to the butler: "My name is Answell"; and, when he announced me, he said: "The gentleman to see you, sir."'
'So, when the deceased said: "My dear Answell, I'll settle your hash, damn you," you believe he was not speaking about you at all?'
‘I am sure he was not.'
H.M. shuffled with some papers in order to allow this to sink in. Then, beginning with the drinking of the whisky, he went through the story. We knew that part of it to be true; but still, was he guilty? The man was not the world's best witness; but there was an air of fierce conviction about everyth
ing he said. He conveyed a little of that trapped feeling which must have possessed him if he were innocent. It was a long examination, and Answell would have made a good impression if only - last evening - he had not announced his own guilt from the dock. It hung over every word he said now, even if nobody referred to it. He was a self-confessed murderer before he started. It was as though there were two of him, merging each into the other like figures on a double-exposed photographic plate.
'Finally,' growled H.M., 'let's take the reasons for various things. When did you first begin to believe that a mistake had been made, and that all that evening the deceased had been mistakin' you for your cousin?'
'I don't know.' Pause. 'I thought of it that same night, later, but I could not believe it.' Pause. 'Then I thought about it again. Afterwards.'
'Was there a reason why you didn't want to say anything about it, even then?'
'I -' Hesitation.
'Just tell me: did you have a reason?' (Watch your step, H.M.; for God's sake watch your step!)
' 'You have heard the question,' said the judge. 'Answer it.’
'My lord, I suppose I did.'
Mr Justice Rankin frowned. 'You either had a reason, or you had not?' 'I had a reason.'
It was possible that H.M. was beginning to sweat. 'Just tell me this: Do you know why the deceased might have wanted to make an appointment with your cousin and not you?'
Between counsel and prisoner there seemed to be a scales; and now the scale-pan dipped. The young blockhead squared his shoulders and drew a deep breath. Putting his hands on the rail, he looked with a clear eye round the court.
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