I've got no complaints about that. Big tall fellow with snowwhite hair. And he told me to close the door and come up to the desk and then he said, "Sackbut, I know you're going to take this like a man." And then, of course, I thought I knew exactly what I was in for. But he said, "I've just had your father on the telephone, Sackbut. And he's asked me to let you know. I'm afraid your mother's dead." And do you know what I felt, Rumpole? I felt a kind of enormous relief, because he wasn't going to beat me.' We were silent for a little, then I asked, 'Did your father tell you how she died?' 'Not really. When I came home for the holidays he said, "I suppose Slocombe gave you the message." And I told him, "Yes." I don't think we discussed it much after that.' 'Do you know how? Or where?' 'I heard vaguely. I think she left home after I'd gone back to school. She must have died soon after that, I suppose.
Abroad somewhere. I've an idea it might have been Italy.
France or Italy...' 'But didn't you make... any sort of inquiries?' I found it hard to believe.
'No.' He sounded quite matter of fact.
'Why not?' 'I don't think my father would have wanted me to.' 'You believed your father?' 'Of course.' 'On so little evidence?' 'I wouldn't have doubted him.' 'Do you have any idea,' I asked, 'how old she'd be now? If she'd lived, I mean.' 'I suppose late sixties.' 'It never occurred to you that she might try to get in touch with you?' 'You mean, come back from the dead?' He was smiling.
'Yes. Something like that, I suppose.' Our new friends, the Sackbuts, invited us to the Opera, where the Bastions had taken a box. Not to be caught out a second time I arrived in a blazer and grey flannels to find the rest of the party in evening-dress. 'They're so secretive,' She complained to me in the interval. 'They never let you know what they're going to wear.' But Richard did give me some interesting information over the champagne and sandwiches. After telling me that the fellow on the stage looked a great deal too fat to be accepted into ", the Egyptian Army, he said, 'I say, Rumpole. I think I've got a young relative in your Chambers. David Luxter. His grandfather was Lord Chancellor and his father's my cousin.' 'You mean the present Lord Luxter?' Hilda has Debrett ever at her fingertips.
'No', I had to disappoint Hilda, 'I'm afraid we've got no Luxter in our stable.' 'Oh, he did an odd thing,' Richard told us. 'Didn't want to rely on his family name, can't think why. So the Luxter boy went into the law under an alias. He found a name in some poem or other, Harry Luxter told me, something about a bell and a rock: "The vessel strikes with a shivering shock," I told him. "Oh Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock!" Not a great poet, Southey, but I suppose young David found him useful.' 'That's the name! Inchcape!' 'Born the son of a Lord?' And I thought I knew the reason for Mizz Probert's sorrow. I wondered if she would ever forgive him.
When the Opera was over, Hilda woke me with a sharp nudge and we set off to walk down to the Savoy, where the Sackbuts were standing us dinner. We took a short cut down the narrow street behind the Strand Palace Hotel and there men and women, young and old, were settling down for the night as near as possible to the grilles where a certain amount of hot air came streaming up from the hotel's kitchen. As our rather grand procession swept by, a voice called my name from a doorway and I turned to see a small dosser, with a bobble hat pulled down over his eyes, holding out a tattered copy of the Evening Standard which had formed part of his bedding. 'Mr Rumpole! I recognize you, sir.' He handed up the snap of me blowing my nose. 'I see your picture in this old paper. As you was defending Walter The Wally in the big murder case. I have got some info for you on that one, sir.' As I loitered to speak further to the man, I heard Richard say, 'What's happened to your husband?' I 'I'm afraid he's met a friend,' Hilda told him, so they walked on, sure I suppose, that I'd catch them up. I didn't do so immediately as I wanted to hear the story old Arnie, as he'd introduced himself, had to tell. He would not speak of it, however, until I'd bought him a cup of tea and a couple of ham rolls in a rather affected caff, dressed up as a Parisian bar in the 189o's, in the Covent Garden Piazza. Those patrons sitting down wind of Arnie moved to other tables as he munched contentedly.
'I was with The Wally that night, Mr Rumpole,' he told me.
'We was all down under Hungerford Bridge. And he got into a bit of an argument, like, with Bronco Billington. Always a bit of a pain up the bum, Bronco, in a manner of speaking. Nick! Never seen anything like it. Well. He had Wally's drop of gin and his pie off him and a punch-up started. And a bit of manual strangulation.
Wally's strong, like, when he's roused up and he left Bronco flattened. So we went off sharpish round Centrepoint, where there was still spaces. And next day we read in the papers about the triple murder. But The Wally was with me, all that night.
Straight up, he was. Only thing, he reckoned he'd done in poor old Bronco, who was never in good health at the best of times.
Cough his bloody guts out soon as you touch him.' 'And had he done in Bronco?' 'Bless you, no. Bronco was in the Cut, Waterloo, Thursday midnight. Singing his head off on a bottle of meths. I'd've told The Wally, only I didn't know where they got him banged up. You'll be seeing him, will you?' 'Not just yet,' I told him. 'I'm defending a Lord.' 'Oh, wonderful, Mr Rumpole. Going up in the world, are we? You couldn't spare...' Of course I could. I handed him a couple of crisp tenners and told him not to waste it all on tea. Then I wondered if I could recover my outlay from the legal aid fund.
As the inquest drew near, I began to make my preparations.
Cursitor & Carlill of Welldyke were the family solicitors, and I saw the prim and elderly Mr Cursitor at my Chambers on one of his visits to London. I suggested that he must have been sure that Richard's mother had died, because if she were alive she might have had some claim against the estate on his father's death.
'Not really, Mr Rumpole.' Mr Cursitor actually put the tips of his fingers together when he spoke, something he must (' have seen family solicitors doing in old movies. 'Richard's father had started divorce proceedings before his wife left England. She never appeared again and the case went through undefended. She was no longer married to the late Lord Sackbut, so she would have had no claim.' "
'Did Richard know that?' I don't think we ever discussed it with him. I'm sure his father didn't.' 'And who was the man she ran off with?' 'An Italian prisoner-of-war. I believe she'd met him when he was working on one of the farms. I suppose she misconducted herself and joined him somewhere in Italy. She left no address.' Before I parted from Mr Cursitor, I gave him a number of jobs to do and asked him to put an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph personal column. It was a long shot, a very long shot indeed, but then I had very little ammunition.
For someone who has had, in the course of a long life, a great deal to do with sudden and violent death, I have only rarely appeared in Coroners Courts. The proceedings are directed by the coroner, who calls for witnesses and asks the questions. The legal hack is usually limited to putting a few supplementaries.
The Welldyke Court was a dark and stately Victorian affair, set in a crumbling municipal building. For the inquest on the unknown bag lady, the place was packed with friends of the Sackbuts and, I suppose, some enemies, interested members of the press and some who found an inquest a welcome addition to the pleasures of a holiday in North Yorkshire. There was a jury of local men and women, a shorthand writer and Mr Pringle, the coroner's officer, acting as the court usher. Dr Swabey sat, his face and glasses shining, thoroughly enjoying putting the grey-haired pathologist through his paces.
'Dr Malkin,' he said in his most patronizing manner, 'please use layman's language. Not all of us understand the complexities of forensic medicine.' 'Including you, old darling,' I whispered to no one in particular, but the coroner apparently heard me. 'May I remind everyone in court,' he pontificated, 'this is a solemn proceeding. Mine is the ancient office of custos placitorum, the Keeper of the Decisions. We have the solemn duty, you and I, Members of the Jury, to inquire into the mysteries of death. I hope we may do so without interruption.' 'Just as soon as you sto
p interrupting.' I tried another whisper which the coroner wisely ignored and asked Malkin to continue his evidence. 'She was a woman in her late sixties or early seventies, in poor general health. I came to the conclusion that death was probably caused by a blow to the head with some blunt instrument before the body entered the water.
I didn't think it was a case of death by drowning because there was no water in the lungs.' 'Might death have been caused by a deliberate attack?' Swabey asked eagerly. 'A blow to the head by some assailant?' 'I thought it might.' As the pathologist said this, there was a buzz of interest in court, but I sat expressionless.
'Struck before the body was put into the lake?' Swabey asked.
'Yes.' 'Which would make this an unlawful killing. Or, to use a word with which the Jury might be more familiar, murder.' The coroner was delighted to say this for the first time in the proceedings.
'I couldn't rule out that possibility. No.' 'Mr Rumpole. Do you wish to apply to ask the pathologist a question?' Swabey asked with a cheerless smile in my direction.
'Yes.' I rose purposefully to my hind legs. 'A good many questions.' 'Then I shall grant your application.' 'Very generous, sir. Dr Malkin. In a case of drowning it's possible for death to occur immediately, due to a sudden cardiac arrest. Is that not so? It's happened in the case of sailors falling off ships, for instance.' 'It has happened.' 'And in such a case, there might be no water in the lungs.' 'There might not be.' 'Such deaths have often occurred with drunken sailors.
They fall off the deck and alcohol produces a state of hypersensitivity to sudden and unexpected contact with water,' 'It may do so.' The pathologist was reluctant to admit it.
'Dr Malkin. You have read the great Professor Ackerman's ( work The Causes of Death, I'm sure?' 'Of course I've read it!' Dr Malkin was running out of patience before I ran out of questions.
'Professor who, Mr Rumpole?' The coroner was foolish enough to ask.
'Ackerman, sir. Required reading, I should have thought, for any Keeper of the Decisions.' After that enjoyable interruption, I returned to Dr Malkin and the business in hand.
'The Professor quotes many such cases.' 'I believe he does.' 'And we know that this old lady had an almost empty gin bottle in her possession. You found a high level of alcohol in her blood, didn't you?' 'Fairly high.' 'Fairly high. So it remains a possibility, does it not, that this unfortunate lady met her death by drowning?' There was a long pause before Dr Malkin, with the utmost reluctance said, 'It's a possibility. Yes.' 'Dealing with the blow to the head. This was a particularly steep bit of bank, was it not?' 'It was fairly steep.' 'With a number of branches and tree stumps. On some of which traces of blood were found.' 'Yes.' 'Can you rule out the possibility that this old lady, having drunk rather more gin than was good for her, slipped and fell into the lake, striking her head on one of those tree stumps as she fell?' 'I can't rule that out altogether.' Clearly Dr Malkin hated to have to say it. Murder was a far more exciting alternative.
'Thank you, Doctor. It seems we may have reached a sensible interpretation of the facts and one that should be obvious even to those who haven't read Professor Ackerman's great work.' As I sat down I looked meaningfully at Swabey, but he ' was busy trying to repair the damage I had done to his witness.
'Dr Malkin,' he said, 'we gather from your evidence that this blow to the head might have been accidental, or it might have been deliberate. Is that right?' 'Quite right, sir.' 'You, of course, didn't go into the circumstances in which someone might have had a motive for causing the death of this old lady.' 'No,' Malkin started, but it was time for Rumpole to rise in, at least well-simulated, fury. 'I object to that question. How can Dr Malkin possibly answer it?' 'He can't, Mr Rumpole.' Swabey again smiled unconvincingly.
'That will be the subject of the next part of my investigation.
I know you will wish to help me with it. Thank you, Dr Malkin. We would now like to ask Mr Saggers a few questions.' Mr Saggers turned out to be the attendant at the West Gate who took charge of our luggage when we first visited the castle. He was a solid Yorkshireman, clearly reliable, and turned out to be a devastating witness. As soon as he was in the box and sworn in, Pringle, the coroner's officer, showed him the mortuary photograph of the dead bag lady, and, in particular, a close-up of her large, but possibly once pretty, face.
'Mr Saggers,' the coroner said, 'can you recognize the lady in that photograph?' 'The Lady in the Lake,' I whispered, and Swabey again made a public pronouncement. 'For those of us unused to courtroom practice, I should say that silence is kept while a witness is giving evidence.' 'Wonder who his grandmother is?' I asked Cursitor. 'And can she suck eggs?' But now Saggers was telling a story I had to listen to. 'It was the day before they found her,' he said.
'She came up to the castle entrance and wanted to go in. She wasn't with any of the groups that'd paid already, so I asked her for two pounds. She said she hadn't got it, but she wanted to see his Lordship. I told her that wouldn't be possible. I didn't think she was anyone he'd want to see. So, well, she sort of wandered off.' 'What time was that?' Swabey asked.
'Just before four, because I was going off for my tea-break.
Then, as I was passing the formal gardens, you know, where the long border, the white border they call it, runs down to the statue? Well, I saw them there.' 'You saw who, Mr Saggers?' 'The old lady. And his Lordship.' I whispered to his Lordship, urgently taking instructions, but Richard shook his head and firmly denied the suggestion.
This added considerably to my worries.
'What were they doing?' Swabey asked.
'Just talking together. I saw them and then I went on for my tea.' 'Have you any questions, Mr Rumpole?' The coroner was looking more cheerful than I felt as I rose to do my best with Saggers.
'Before you went on for your tea, how long did you see these two together?' 'Perhaps half a minute. I didn't stop to look at them.' 'And how far away were they down at the end of the border?
Fifty yards?' 'About that.' 'It was afternoon. Was the sun behind them?' 'I think it was. Mind you, I'd seen the woman close to, at the gate.' 'So you said. But you couldn't see Lord Sackbut's face clearly in the garden?' 'I made sure it was his Lordship.' 'How was he dressed?' 'A tweed cap, and his jersey and cord trousers. Like he does. He'd been doing something with the horses.' 'He was dressed like many other men who might have been about the garden and the statues that day, Mr Saggers.
When you say you think it was his Lordship, will you accept the possibility that you might have been mistaken?' I did my best, as you can see, but it didn't get very far. Saggers, the reliable witness, answered, 'I know what I saw, Mr Rumpole. To be quite honest with you I got no doubt about it.' When we were getting ready for bed in the castle, I told Hilda my worries. 'Richard's going to tell a lie! He spoke to the old lady and now he's going to deny it.' 'Oh, Richard wouldn't do a thing like that.' She was sure of it.
'Why not? Because he's a Lord? Because he lives in a castle?
I tell you, Hilda. People have been lying here since the Wars of the Roses. Lying and locking up their wives or tearing their wives' photographs out of family albums. Behaving like that', and, as I said it, I felt I had reached close to the heart of the case, 'because their fathers did it.' The next day Lord Sackbut went into the witness-box at the coroner's request and Dr Swabey examined him in the manner of one who'd never been invited into the private apartments and wasn't going to let his Lordship forget it. To the thousand-dollar question Richard answered, 'The first time I saw the old lady was when her body was found in our lake. I had never set eyes on her before that.' 'My Lord. I remember you told me that at the time, and no doubt others heard you. But you have heard Mr Saggers's evidence. Is he lying?' 'I'm not saying that. I'm saying Mr Saggers is mistaken. I didn't speak to the old lady that afternoon.' 'Very well, the Jury will have to make up their minds who's telling the truth.' Swabey gave the Jury a trusting look and then turned to another subject. 'Lord Sackbut, when you were a boy, your mother left your fath
er.' 'I fail to see what that's got to do with this case.' 'Bear with me, my Lord. I think it may have a great deal to do with it. At that time, did your father tell you that your mother was dead?' 'She was dead, yes.' 'But how did you know that?' 'Because my father said so.' Richard was clearly keeping his temper with difficulty. 'He told my school.' 'And you believed him?' 'Of course.' 'Did it ever occur to you that your father was so angry with your mother that he pretended she had died. He didn't want you to try to see her again?' 'It never occurred to me that my father would tell a lie, Dr Swabey. To me or anyone.' 'Do you not know that there have been many rumours, in your family and in the town, that your mother didn't die as your father said but was alive many years later and living in Italy?' 'I never heard such rumours. Anyway, they would have been untrue.' 'This is becoming intolerable.' I gave another exhibition of the Rumpole wrath. 'Lord Sackbut's here to give evidence, not to deal with tittle-tattle.' 'Please, Mr Rumpole, don't excite yourself. You have reached an age when that might be injurious to your health. Mr Pringle, the photograph, please. Now, I pass to another matter.' Pringle was handing the photograph of Richard's father in uniform, sitting on the castle terrace with a woman and a baby. As Richard looked at it, Swabey went purring on, 'We have heard evidence that that photograph was found in the old lady's possession.
John Mortimer - Rumpole On Trial Page 15