Prince of Secrets

by Paula Marshall

  Excitement began almost immediately, for Sir Halbert, opening for Sir Ratcliffe, launched an immediate attack on the four defendants who, he announced, had brought the accusation against his client for their own private reasons, none of them creditable, and would so prove as the case unfolded.

  He was a tall man, in contrast to Sir Darcy, and used his height magnificently to dominate and intimidate the jurors, all sober middle and lower middle-class men, most of whom were highly critical of gentlemen who spent their days at Markendale gambling at the races, and their evenings gambling on the card tables. That the Prince of Wales was one of their number—nay, more, was one of the bankers—was even more scandalous.

  If he had not known exactly what Sir Ratcliffe was, and what crimes he had been committing, Cobie admitted to himself, as Sir Halbert continued, that he would have found little difficulty in believing that he was a much put-upon and victimised man.

  Sir Halbert made much of his career. ‘He was an officer in the Life Guards,’ he intoned, ‘with a most distinguished record of service. Later, on inheriting, he thought it fit to put his talents at the disposal of his country by resigning and standing for Parliament. Once elected, he had held a series of minor offices, and it was possible that had not this villainous plot been put into motion at Markendale, he would have been considered for even higher office.

  ‘Worse, whilst he was at Markendale, he had not only had his reputation blown upon, but the suite of Heneage diamonds, one of the glories of the world, had been stolen from him. His wife had been so stunned by the loss that she had retreated into private life, giving him a third major blow.’

  At this point Sir Halbert’s voice sank to a whisper. Cynically, Cobie expected him to produce a handkerchief and wipe away a tear. He was not to know that Sir Halbert had considered this, but had thought that he might be going too far. His magic trick was to appear not to have one.

  He paused long enough for everyone to assimilate ‘the dreadful blows which had afflicted an honest and honourable gentleman, the latest in a long line of distinguished servants of his crown and country’, before continuing his opening speech.

  ‘The question is a simple one, gentlemen of the jury. Did Sir Ratcliffe, or did he not, cheat at cards? Further, did he, or did he not, sign a paper saying that he had done so, only to save the reputation of the Prince of Wales, should the matter be brought into the open, having been assured that the matter would go no further? But the matter did go further, it was brought into the open by one or more of the defendants, to his ultimate detriment and his social ruin, and that is why we are in court today. I hope to demonstrate that there was a conspiracy against him, and that the members of it acted dishonourably, for reasons which I will make plain.

  ‘I shall also be calling the Prince of Wales as a witness. I must also make it quite plain to you, gentlemen of the jury, that my client is not attacking the Prince in any way. He merely considers that the Prince was unlucky enough to be misinformed by some of those around him.’

  So far, so good—for Sir Ratcliffe. No one would think from his manner that Sir Halbert was making bricks without straw. Kenilworth leaned over and whispered in Cobie’s ear, ‘What the devil’s all this flim flam about a conspiracy against the feller? He cheated at cards. That was the dishonourable bit. What does the pen-pusher think he’s doing?’

  ‘He’s slinging mud about, in the hope that some of it will stick,’ Cobie whispered back.

  He didn’t like the way that the foreman of the jury was glaring at them. Idle devils all, his expression said. The bit about Sir Ratcliffe having been an officer in the Life Guards was definitely one up for him.

  After that Sir Halbert proceeded to offer the jury a straightforward account of what had happened at Markendale—or rather what Sir Ratcliffe claimed had happened. Cobie stole another look at the spectators—and there was Hendrick Van Deusen. How the devil had he managed to obtain a ticket?

  Unknown to Cobie another interested spectator was in Court, but not in the distinguished visitors’ seats. Walker had persuaded one of the ushers to let him in and, hidden from view, was watching the early proceedings—and Mr Dilley, of course. Mr Dilley was looking as charmingly impassive as usual. His impassivity didn’t change when Sir Halbert reached the end of his exposition, and called his chief witness, Sir Ratcliffe Heneage.

  There was a stir in court when he took the stand. Even the judge took a sudden interest in the affair, having previously looked as though he were going to sleep. He had a close-up view of ‘the noble baronet’ as the Press was to call him the next day.

  The society ladies sitting in the back of the court fetched out their opera glasses in order to see him better. Violet wielded hers in style, saying in a loud stage whisper to Dinah, ‘What a cad he looks. Whatever did Susanna Winthrop see in him?’ Dinah silently agreed with her. Sir Ratcliffe’s brand of sardonic good looks held no attraction for her.

  His manner in the witness box was firm but modest, his appearance was impeccable. Both Mr Dilley and Inspector Walker separately agreed on that. He affected a tone of pleasant, if slightly wounded, manliness. Asked at one point why he had signed the incriminating document if he were innocent, he looked straight at the judge and then at the jury and said in a melancholy voice, ‘I consented only because it was put to me that His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales’s reputation would be blown upon if it were revealed that he had been a banker at a notorious game of cards such as baccarat. As a loyal officer of the Crown, both in the military and in Parliament, I thought that it was only proper to sacrifice myself to save his good name.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Sir Halbert smartly, as though the idea had just occurred to him, ‘why did you bring this action, and subpoena the Prince of Wales into the bargain, thus ensuring the utmost publicity for his participation in a game of chance involving the wagering of money?’

  Sir Ratcliffe looked so impossibly noble at this point that Cobie almost disgraced himself by laughing aloud. Several of the jurors, however, gave ‘the worthy baronet’ a sympathetic smile when he replied, ‘Because I had been assured that were I to sign the paper admitting my guilt and undertaking not to play cards again, the matter would go no further, so that my reputation, as well as the Prince’s, would be preserved.

  ‘Imagine my horror when I discovered that, owing to the actions of one of the co-defendants, Mr Jacobus Grant, the matter was the talk of London, and I was being cut right, left and centre. Worse, my place in the Government was at stake. I had to act to save my name.’

  Sir Darcy Spenlow leapt to his feet. ‘M’lud,’ he addressed the judge. ‘I ask that the accusation against Mr Grant be stricken from the record. At this stage it is mere gossip, unproven.’

  The judge nodded. ‘Instruct your client, Sir Halbert,’ he said severely, ‘to restrict his answers to you to the bare facts of which you ask him.’

  ‘Indeed, m’lud. You will allow me to proceed?’

  ‘With that proviso.’

  ‘Tell me, Sir Ratcliffe, what were the values of the counters with which you were playing?’

  ‘They ranged from five shillings to ten pounds.’

  Sir Halbert turned so that he was facing the jury. ‘Five shillings to ten pounds,’ he repeated solemnly. ‘That being so, then the amount which you would gain from cheating would be negligible, given your own wealth, that is.’

  ‘That is true, sir.’

  ‘So, if a player were to be cheating, he would be risking his reputation for nothing?’

  ‘Exactly so. The game would not be worth the candle. You may thus understand my incredulity when I was accused of such a pointless manoeuvre.’

  Several of the jurors nodded agreement with him. Had a verdict been called for at this point there was no doubt in whose favour it would have gone.

  It had to be admitted, Dinah thought, that Sir Ratcliffe acquitted himself well in the witness box. He explained his system of betting in a clear voice, saying, Yes, he pushed his counters on and
off the cards as he betted on them, but he had never moved them after the game had ended in order to increase, or decrease, his stake.

  After that there were few fireworks. The theft of the diamonds was mentioned. Sir Ratcliffe submitted that distress at their loss might have made him distrait when playing cards to the degree that his normal behaviour was affected, and that might have brought the false accusation down on him.

  At the very end, in reply to a direct question, ‘Did you, Sir Ratcliffe Heneage, cheat at baccarat at Markendale on the night in question, or on any other night?’ he said in a loud and firm voice, glaring this time, not at the judge or the jury, but at Cobie, who was still impassive, ‘No, I did not.’

  ‘Is there any truth in the accusations against you?’

  ‘None,’ and then, he felt compelled to embroider. ‘I believe that they were fabricated by the same person who spread the story about London of what had happened at Markendale.’

  ‘Were you not at the end of your examination, Sir Halbert,’ said the judge, again severe, ‘I would ask you to restrain your principal when he is in the witness box. I would remind him to be circumspect in his answers during cross-examination. The hour being late, we shall adjourn until tomorrow.’

  The overall impression which Sir Ratcliffe had given was a favourable one, and there seemed little doubt that he had the jury on his side—if not the judge. Sir Halbert, it was later whispered, had even hoped that the defendants might withdraw at this point, believing their case to be hopeless.

  Dinah said to Cobie when they reached home, ‘I cannot imagine that this action can last very long or, that in the long run, there can be any doubt as to Sir Ratcliffe’s guilt, however clever he was in the witness box.’

  ‘You may be sure,’ said Cobie with his most cynical smile, ‘that the lawyers will be capable of keeping this going for as long they can—that is how they earn their fees. As to Sir Ratcliffe having no case, I think that you might be surprised how convincing he and his counsel seemed to the jury. I hear that Sir Halbert is convinced of his client’s innocence, and genuinely believes that the four of us conspired together to blacken him to the Prince.’

  Dinah shivered. ‘I’m worried,’ she murmured, ‘for you and the others. Particularly for you. Do you think that they will start to ask questions about the theft of the Heneage diamonds?’

  Cobie shook his head. ‘Irrelevant. Don’t lose any sleep over it, my love.’

  But she did, inevitably, and more than ever she wished that she felt able to tell him of their coming child.

  What Cobie didn’t say to her was what Walker had warned him of: that Sir Halbert might spring a real surprise when it came to cross-examining the American Dollar Prince whom Sir Ratcliffe Heneage was sure was the prime architect of his ruin.

  The next morning all the society ladies were wearing new toilettes. Dinah looked particularly charming and several of the jurymen privately agreed with Cobie that no villain could have such an innocent young wife. One of the ushers had admiringly pointed her out to them.

  Sir Darcy immediately began to cross-examine Sir Ratcliffe ruthlessly. Try as he might, though, he could not shake him. Indeed the harder he tried, the greater the resentment he was beginning to arouse both in those spectators who weren’t at Markendale, and in the breasts of some of the jury who were beginning to think that he truly was the victim of a conspiracy.

  ‘I put it to you, sir,’ Sir Darcy said at one point, ‘that no innocent man would be willing to destroy his name and reputation by signing a paper admitting that he had cheated at cards. The presence of your signature on such a paper must be read as a clear admission of guilt. How can you possible claim otherwise?’

  Sir Ratcliffe put on his noble expression again, sighed, looked first at the judge and then at his interrogator. ‘In normal circumstances, sir, I would be compelled to agree with you. But consider, I am an officer and a gentleman dedicated to serving my Queen and my country. It was a duty laid upon me to sign that paper if by so doing I was saving my Prince from future scandal. As I would lay down my life for my country, so I was compelled to offer up my reputation—given that the Prince and the co-defendants agreed that if I did so, the matter would remain private.’

  ‘But, it didn’t, couldn’t remain private, Sir Ratcliffe, could it? And since you—and no one else—have been responsible for bringing this action before the public—then the Prince has not been saved from scandal. So much for your protestations of loyalty. How do you answer that?’

  ‘Because those men, sitting over there, broke their solemn promise that the matter would not be made public. I consider that since they acted dishonourably in this matter, then I was absolved from any promises which I had made.’

  He turned to address the judge directly. ‘I am sure that you appreciate my motives in this matter, m’lud…’

  The judge sighed. ‘It is defendant’s counsel who is questioning you, sir. Address your answers to him, not to me.’

  Oh, there was no doubt that the line which Sir Ratcliffe was following was a cunning one, since it presented him in a sympathetic light. He continued to repeat that he was prepared to sacrifice his private reputation in order to save the Prince—but wasn’t prepared to become a public pariah as the consequence of his nobility.

  Cobie knew, as did many, that there was a strong Republican sentiment abroad in the country, and that the kind of small businessman and shopkeeper who made up the bulk of the jury were the backbone of the movement. The whole of high society knew that Sir Ratcliffe was guilty, but they weren’t sitting in the jury box. Those who were, were not sympathetic towards the Prince and his cronies—as at one point Sir Halbert had named the defendants.

  Sir Darcy sighed, picked up a piece of paper, stared at it, and then addressed Sir Ratcliffe again.

  ‘You claimed, sir, that since the value of the counters which you were using was so relatively small you had no incentive to cheat since what you would be gaining financially would not be worth the risk you were taking. I do not misrepresent you, I trust?’

  ‘No, indeed. That is what I said.’

  ‘Suppose I put it to you, that, in fact, your financial position is much weaker than is commonly thought, that you have many debts, and that your credit is exhausted, would you not agree that that might put a different complexion on matters?’

  ‘Even if it were true, which it is not, that I was in financial difficulties, then the ridiculously small sum which I stood to gain when playing at Markendale, would give me no incentive to cheat—rather the contrary…’

  Sir Darcy sighed melodramatically, ‘A simple yes or no was all I asked for, Sir Ratcliffe.’

  ‘A correct answer needed more than that, sir.’

  ‘So, you claim that you are not in financial difficulties. My understanding is that you lost a small fortune in dabbling in South American securities of a dubious nature, compounded by an ill-thought venture in Venezuelan copper—and your own proclivity for gambling in clubs where the stakes are considerably higher than they were at Markendale. Would you care to revise your answer in the light of this?’

  Sir Ratcliffe refused to be ruffled. ‘No, indeed. What you say about my South American losses is true, I admit it, but set against the wealth of the estate which I inherited, is as nothing. And the gambling of which you speak was nothing—exaggerated by gossip.’

  ‘So you say.’

  Sir Darcy turned over papers again, and regretfully decided that to continue to badger Sir Ratcliffe would antagonise the jury even more, and announced that his questioning was at an end.

  On balance, Sir Ratcliffe had won that round too, and now everyone in the Court leaned forward, for Sir Halbert had said that his next witness would be the Prince of Wales himself. Albert Edward responded to his name and walked forward, to be bowed to by Sir Halbert and to be questioned deferentially but keenly. The excitement in the court and in the representatives of the Press who were present was extreme.

  The ladies’ opera glasses
flashed again. Violet whispered to Dinah, ‘Poor old Tum Tum, He never thought that his bit of fun at Markendale would land him in court, did he?’

  Dinah said, ‘I don’t suppose it will trouble him much, do you?’

  She was watching her husband, although she owned to herself that there was nothing to see. He had looked in her direction once or twice, but otherwise she had merely had a view of his superbly fashionable hair cut.

  It was true that the Prince appeared supremely in control of himself. From the top of his balding head to the tips of his gleaming shoes, he was very much the man and the Prince. He answered Sir Halbert’s questions in his pleasant guttural voice, and showed no signs that he was annoyed by being treated as lesser mortals were. Yes, a group of men led by his host, Lord Kenilworth, had come to him with the news that Sir Ratcliffe Heneage was cheating at the baccarat tables. The accusation was quite categorical.

  ‘Who exactly was responsible for the accusation?’

  The Prince considered, then looked at the judge, who motioned that he was to reply. ‘I understand that all the defendants had witnessed Sir Ratcliffe’s manipulation of his counters to his own advantage.’

  ‘And was there no one person whose evidence was considered to be most telling?’

  ‘I repeat, I understood that all of them had seen Sir Ratcliffe cheating.’ It was plain that the Prince was not going to single out any particular accuser however much Sir Ratcliffe and his counsel might wish him to do so.

  No, he had not seen Sir Ratcliffe cheat himself, he was too busy acting as banker on the other table. No, he had no reason to believe other than that Kenilworth and his co-defendants were telling the truth.

  Yes, given the apparently overwhelming evidence that a man he had known for many years had been misbehaving, he had agreed to the suggestion that to avoid open scandal Sir Ratcliffe would be asked to sign a private paper admitting his guilt, and promising not to play cards again.