Fleming took it gingerly and rather suspiciously. After, a suspicious look between H.M. and Spencer, he carried the feather to the window and examined it in a better light. Several times his sharp little eyes moved round during his examination.
'Rubbish!' he said abruptly.
'What's rubbish, son?'
'This is. I mean, any idea that this is the other part of the feather.'
Spencer Hume drew a folded handkerchief out of his breast-pocket, and, with an inconspicuous kind of gesture, he began to rub it round his face as though he were polishing that face to a brighter shine than it already had. Something in the expression of his eyes, something that conveyed doubt or misery, was familiar. I had seen just that expression somewhere before, and recently. It was too vivid for me to forget the slide of eyes or hands; but why was it so familiar?
'So?' asked H.M. softly. 'You'd say pretty definitely it couldn't be, eh? Why not?'
'This is a turkey-feather. I told you - or rather you got it out of me - that poor old Hume didn't use anything except goose-feathers.'
'Is there much difference?'
'Is there much difference! Ho!' said Fleming, giving a fillip to the brim of his hat. 'If you go into a restaurant and order turkey, and they serve you goose instead, you're going to know the difference, aren't you? Same with these feathers.' A new thought appeared to strike him. 'What's going on here, anyhow?'
'That's all right,' grunted H.M., and continued without inflection: 'We were just havin’ a bit of a private conference. We -'
Fleming drew himself up. 'I had no intention of staying,' he said with dignity. 'I came here to get something off my mind. Now I've done it, my conscience is clear again and I don't deny I shall take some pleasure in saying good day. I'll only say that there seems to be something infernally queer going on hereabouts. By the way, doctor. If I do manage to see the Attorney-General, shall I tell him you're back and ready to testify?'
'Tell him anything you like,' Spencer answered quietly.
Fleming hesitated, opening his mouth as though he were bedevilled to the edge of an outburst; then he nodded with ponderous gravity, and made for the door. Although he did not know it, it was his own presence which had disturbed the room in a manner we could not analyse. H.M. got up and stood looking down at Spencer Hume.
'Aren't you rather glad you didn't go into court?' he asked quite mildly. 'Set your mind at rest. I'm not goin' to call you as a witness. In your present frame of mind, I wouldn't dare. But right here, strictly among ourselves, you faked that evidence, didn't you?'
The other studied this. 'I suppose you could call it that, in a way.'
'But why the blazes did you fake it?'
'Because Answell is guilty,' said the other.
And then I knew what the expression of his eyes reminded me of: it reminded me of James Answell himself, and of the same trapped sincerity with which Answell had faced accusations. It made even H.M. blink. H.M. gravely made a gesture which I could not interpret; he kept his eyes fixed on Spencer as he did so.
'The Judas window means nothin' to you?' he insisted, with another incomprehensible gesture at which Spencer peered doubtfully.
'I swear it does not'
'Then listen to me,' said H.M. 'You've got two courses open to you. You can clear out. Or you can go to court this afternoon. If Walt Storm's waived you as a witness, and if you've really got a medical certificate for yesterday, you can't be arrested unless Balmy Rankin cuts up awful rough - which I don't think he will. If I were you, I'd go to court. You may hear something that will interest you, and will make you want to speak out. But you ought to know where the real piece of feather, the genuine one, is now. There are two parts of that missin' piece. Half of the missin' piece is stuck in the teeth of a cross-bow that I'm goin' to produce in court. The other half was left in the Judas window. If I see the tide startin' to swing against me, I warn you I'll put you into the box no matter how dangerous you are. But I don't think that'll be necessary. That's all I've got to say, because I'm goin' back now.'
We followed him out, leaving Spencer sitting by the table with the dying firelight red on his face, pondering. It was at this time yesterday that we had first heard of the Judas window. Before an hour had passed it was to be shown in all its hidden obviousness; it was to loom as large and practical as a sideboard, though of slightly different dimensions: and it was to swallow up Courtroom Number One. For the moment we knew only that the room was locked.
On the landing Evelyn seized H.M.'s arm. 'There's one thing at least,' she said through her teeth, 'you can tell. One little question that's so easy it never occurred to met to think of it before -'
'Uh-huh. Well?' enquired H.M.
'What is the shape of the Judas window?'
'Square,' said H.M. promptly. 'Mind that step.'
XVI
IPut On This Dye Myself
'SHALL be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.' 'Ar,' said the witness.
The witness did not chew gum; but the continual restless movement of his jaws, the occasional sharp clicking sound he made with his tongue to emphasize a point, gave the impression that he was occupied with an exhaustless wad of it. He had a narrow, suspicious face, which alternately expressed good nature and defiance; a very thin neck; and hair which seemed to be the colour and consistency of liquorice. When he wished to be particularly emphatic, he would jerk his head sideways in speaking, as though he were doing a trick with the invisible chewing-gum; and turn his eye sternly on the questioner. Also, his tendency to address everyone except H.M. as 'your lordship' may have been veiled awe - or it may have been a sign of the budding Communist tendencies indicated by the curl of his lip and the hammer-and-sickle design in his militant tie.
H.M. plunged in.
'Your full name's Horace Carlyle Grabell, and you live at 85 Benjamin Street, Putney?'
'That's right,' agreed the witness with cheerful defensiveness, as though he were daring anyone to doubt this.
'Did you use to work in the block of service-flats in Duke Street, D'Orsay Chambers, where the accused lives?'
'That's right.'
'What was your job there?'
'I was an Extra Cleaner-Up.'
'What's an Extra Cleaner-Up, exactly?'
'It's like this. It's the mess they makes, that the chambermaids don't like. When their ash-trays gets full, they empties 'em into the waste-paper baskets. They sticks their old razor-blades anywhere they can, to get 'em out of sight. They leaves things about - well, you know what I mean. Extra Cleaner-Up, especially when there was parties.'
'Were you working there round about the 3rd of January last?'
'On that date,' corrected Horace Carlyle Grabell, with a pounce. 'On that date, I was.'
'Yes. Did you know the deceased, Mr Hume?'
'I hadn't the honour of his personal acquaintance -'
'Just confine yourself to answering the question,' said the judge sharply.
'Very good, your Lordship,' said the witness smoothly, and his jaw extended at the same time his upper lip drew away from his teeth. 'I was about to say: except once when we got very matey, and he gave me ten pounds to keep my mouth shut about his being a thief.'
Several times before a recorder would have had the opportunity of writing the word 'sensation'. This one, which could hardly be called a full-fledged sensation, since nobody knew what it meant, was all the more pronounced because of the casual way in which Grabell spoke. The judge slowly took off his spectacles, disengaging them from under his tie-wig, folded them up, and contemplated him.
'You quite understand what you are saying?' enquired Mr Justice Rankin.
'Oh, very good, your Lordship.'
'I wished to make sure of that. Proceed, Sir Henry.'
'We'll try to make certain of it, my lord,' growled H.M. 'Now then. How'd you come to know the deceased so well by sight?'
'I used to work at another place - not far away. Every week, Saturday mornings, they used to take t
he week's takings up to the Capital Counties Bank in a leather bag. I went along; kind of a bodyguard, you see; not that it was ever needed. The deceased, he didn't actually do nothing; I mean, he didn't take the money across the counter or nothing. He would just come out of that little door at the back of the bank, and stand with his hands behind his back, and nod to Mr Perkins who brought the money, like as if he was giving his blessing to it.'
'How many times d'ye think you saw him there?'
'Oh, umpteen.'
'A dozen, do you think?'
'More'n that,' insisted the witness, shaking his head sceptically and drawing the air through a hollow tooth. 'Every Saturday for six months or so.'
'Now, where were you on the morning of Friday, January 3rd, last?'
'Cleaning out the dustbin in 3c’ answered Grabell promptly. 'That's Mr Answell's flat.' He made a sign of quick and saturnine friendliness towards the prisoner, pushing his fist under his own chin as though to keep it up; and instantly checked this with an air of portentous solemnity.
'Where's the dustbin?'
'In the kitchenette.'
'This kitchenette opens into the dining-room?'
'Same as usual,' agreed Grabell.
*Was the door closed between?'
'Yes. Or very near. Just a crack.'
'What'd you see or hear then?'
'Well, I wasn't making much noise. While I was standing in the kitchenette, I heard the door of the dining-room open - that's the other door to the dining-room, leading to the little entry. I thought: '"Ullo!" Because Mr Answell wasn't expected back. I peeped through and see a man coming into the dining-room, walking very soft and quick. You could tell he was up to no good. The blinds was all drawn in the dining-room, too. First he gave a tap on all the walls, like as if he was looking for a safe. Then he started to open the drawers in the sideboard. What he took out I didn't know first going-off, because his back was to me. Then he went over and raised the blind to get a better look. I saw who he was, and I saw what he'd got in his hand.'
'Who was it?'
'This deceased, Mr Hume.'
'And what had he got in his hand?' asked H.M. in a louder voice.
'Captain Answell's gun, that you've got down on the table there.'
'Hand it up to the witness. Take a closer look, and make sure it's the one the deceased took out of that sideboard on Friday morning.'
'That's the one,' said the witness, reeling off the serial number of the pistol before it was put into his hand. He pulled out the clip and snapped it back again, turning round the automatic in a way that made the nearest woman juryman shy back. 'Why, I had to unload it meself once, when they was getting gay at a party.'
'Tell us what happened after you saw Mr Hume?'
'Couldn't believe my own eyes, that's what. He got out a little notebook, and compared something in it, careful as careful; then he stowed away the gun in his pocket. Well, that was too much. I walked out quick and said: "Hullo." I'd got no call to be respectful to a chap who was there to steal. It gave him a turn, though he tried not to show it. He turned round with his hands behind his back and his eyebrows pulled down - trying to look like Napoleon, I dare say. He said: "Do you know who I am?" I said: "Yes; and I also know you've just pinched Captain Answell's gun." He said not to be ridiculous; he said it was a joke. I know that tone some of the nobs takes when they've done the dirty and try to carry it off, I know it; and that's why I knew he knew it. Why, there was that time Lord Borefastleigh got caught flat with the ace, king and jack of trumps in his waistcoat pocket -'
'You will omit that,' said the judge.
"Very good, your Lordship. I said: "Joke or not, you're going down to the manager and explain why you've just pinched Captain Answell's gun." Then he got much quieter. He said: "All right; but do you know which side your bread is buttered on?" I said: "I don't know about that, guv'nor; considering as I've never seen any butter in me life." He said, in a way I'll bet he didn't talk at the bank: "There's a quid in it for you if you keep your mouth shut about this." I thought I'd just see what he was up to, and I said: "I know what that is, guv'nor; that's margerine; and I've had plenty of that on me bread." He said: "Very well; ten pounds, and that's my limit." So he went away with the gun.'
'Did you take the ten pounds?' enquired the judge.
'Yes, your Lordship, I did,' answered Grabell, with defiant querulousness. 'What would you have done?'
'It is not a matter on which I dare pass judgment,' said Mr Justice Rankin. 'Go on, Sir Henry.'
'He went away with the gun.' H.M. wagged his head. 'And what did you do after that?'
‘I knew he was up to no good, so I thought I'd better warn Captain Answell about it.' -
'Oh? Did you warn Captain Answell about it?'
'Yes. Not that he's good for as much as a bob; but I thought it was my duty to, that's all.'
"When did you warn him?'
'I couldn't do it then, him being away in the country. But he turned up unexpected the next day -'
'Uh-huh. So, after all, he was in London on the Saturday of the murder, was he?' said H.M. He allowed a pause, taking the other's movement of the jaws, carried almost to the point of making a face, for a reply. 'When did you see him?'
"Bout ten minutes past six on Saturday evening. He drove into the place behind the block of flats, where they park the cars. There was nobody else about, so I told him Mr Hume had been there the day before and pinched his gun.'
'What did he say?'
'He looked queer for a minute; thoughtful-like; then he said: "Thanks; that'll be very useful," and up and handed me half a crown. Then he turned the car round and whizzed out of there.'
'Now listen to me, son. The pistol that was found in the accused's pocket - that gun - the gun he's supposed to have taken with him on Saturday night to use on Mr Hume - was actually stolen out of the flat on Friday by Mr Hume himself? Is that right?'
'That's as true as God made little apples,' retorted the witness, leaning out of the box in response to H.M.'s pointed finger.
H.M. sat down.
Grabell might have been an insolent and garrulous witness, but these facts themselves made an enormous impression. We knew, however, that a tussle was coming. The antagonism which sprang up between this witness and Sir Walter Storm was apparent before the Attorney-General had uttered a word. Owing to the Londoner's instinctive awe and reverence before a red robe, which represents a hazy conception of Law-cum-Empire and things deeply rooted, Grabell had shown towards the judge a submissiveness approaching humility. Towards the prosecution he held no such views. They evidently represented to him someone who was merely out to do you down. Grabell must have gone into the box with an eye on them, and ready to bristle. This was not soothed by Sir Walter's - entirely unintentional - lofty stare.
'Ah ... Grabell. You tell us you accepted ten pounds from Mr Hume?'
'Yes.'
'Do you think it was an honourable act for you to accept it?'
'Do you think it was an honourable act for 'im to offer it?'
'Mr Hume's habits are not, I think, in question -'
"Well then, they ought to be. You're trying to hang that poor devil there because of 'em.'
The Attorney-General suddenly must have looked so dangerous that the witness drew back a little. 'Do you know what contempt of court is, Grabell?'
'Yes.'
'In case you do not, my lord may have to make it quite clear to you. To avoid any unpleasant consequences, I must tell you that your business here is to answer my questions - nothing else. Do I make myself understood?'
Grabell, rather pale, looked as though he were straining at a leash; but he jerked his head and made no comment.
'Very well. I am glad you appreciate that.' Sir Walter set his papers in order. T should deduce,' he pursued, with-a sidelong glance at the jury, 'that you are a follower of the doctrines of Karl Marx?'
'Never heard of him.'
'Are you a Communist?'
'That's as m
ay be.'
'Have you not made up your mind? - Did you, or did you not, accept a bribe from Mr Hume?'
'Yes. But I went directly and told Captain Answell afterwards.'
'I see. Your "honour rooted in dishonour stands". Is that what you wish us to believe? Do you wish us to believe that you are all the more trustworthy because you were twice unfaithful to a trust?'
"Ere, what's all this?' cried the witness, staring round.
'You tell us that round about January 3rd you were employed at D'Orsay Chambers, Duke Street. Are you not employed there now?'
'No ... I left.'
'You left: why?'
Silence.
'Were you dismissed?' 'You could call it that, yes.' 'So you were dismissed. Why?' 'Answer the question,' said the judge sharply. 'I didn't get on with the manager, and they were overstaffed.'
'Did the manager give you a reference when you left?' 'No.'
'But if you had left for the reasons you tell us, he must have given you a character, mustn't he?'
Sir Walter Storm had not been prepared for this witness. But, with the knowledge of long experience, he knew exactly where to attack without having any actual information to draw on.
'You tell us that on Friday morning, January 3rd, you were "cleaning out the dustbin" in the prisoner's flat?'
'Yes.'
'How long had Mr Answell and Captain Answell been away?'
"Bout a fortnight, maybe.'
'About a fortnight. Why, then, was it necessary to clean out the dustbin, if they had been away for so long?' 'They might have come back.'
'Yet a moment ago you informed my learned friend that no one was expected back. Did you not?' 'It had to be done sometime.'
'It had not been done by anyone during those entire two weeks?' 'No - that is -'
'I put it to you that the dustbin would have been cleaned when the occupants went away?'
'Yes, but I had to make sure. Look here, your Lordship ...'
'You further tell us,' pursued the Attorney-General, leaning both hands on the desk and settling his shoulders, 'that, when you went in to do this, all the blinds were drawn and you made very little noise?'
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