However, he was counterbalanced by the second person to be called. This was a tall, lanky individual, with dark, dreamy eyes, pale cheeks, and long, thin fingers like claws. A man, this, who would instantly feel himself in opposition to the views of his chief, who would instinctively reject the ‘practical’ view and found his opinion on what he would call psychological considerations, but which would really be his own prejudice. He followed his leader into the box.
As one by one the other ten came forward, Charles had to admit they were as representative a crowd as he could well imagine. There was the small man with the receding chin, who would always hold the opinions of the previous speaker, and his opposite, an individual with an expression of overwhelming stupidity, whose opinions no speaker on earth could move. There were ordinary commonplace decent-looking men, who, while trying to be fair, would be anxious to temper justice with mercy. Of the women, two looked over at Charles with a kindly sorrowful glance, but the third was thin and acid-looking, probably dyspeptic and probably a shrew. This third woman completed the tale of the jurors, and they were then sworn with due ceremony.
Presiding over this activity, but not taking part in it, Mr Justice Herriott sat motionless like a little dried-up old sphinx. In his expressionless face showed nevertheless an immense age and knowledge of life. Charles knew that he had the reputation of being a hard judge; scrupulously fair, but hard. His knowledge of law was believed to be as profound as his knowledge of life, and a successful appeal from his decisions was practically unknown.
But events were again moving. The preliminaries were by this time complete, and leading counsel for the prosecution stood up to deliver his opening address.
Charles had heard a great deal about Sir Richard Brander. His reputation was that of the judge, a hard fighter, but scrupulously fair to those unfortunates whose life or liberty it was his unhappy duty to seek. A big, broad-shouldered man, his gifts ran to cold reason and argument rather than to moving eloquence. He pinned his faith to the mercilessly clear setting out of cold facts, and no one more than he could by a few dry sentences more completely annihilate the effect of an impassioned plea for the defence.
He began to speak in a gentle voice while still bending over the table, arranging his notes. As it was not easy to hear what he was saying, this had the effect of producing immediate silence and ensuring the fullest attention. Then having achieved this end, he straightened himself up, put his left hand on his hip, a characteristic gesture, and allowed his rich voice to reverberate to every corner of the court.
A few tactful preliminary words about the gravity of the case and the importance of the duty of the jury, and he was into his stride.
‘The main features of this unhappy case are not new,’ he went on. ‘Probably as far back as history goes we could find parallels, and as long as human nature remains what it is, it will doubtless continue to be paralleled. It belongs to the type of murder for gain. The prisoner, I shall show, was embarrassed financially. He was also heir to a considerable sum. He is charged with murdering the testator to obtain that sum of money and so to relieve himself of his difficulties.
‘Charles Hargrave Swinburn who stands here in the dock to answer this charge, was born in 1898, making him now thirty-five years of age. He was educated at public schools in Buxton and York and his boyhood was full of promise. In 1913 he graduated at Leeds University. Then came the war, and in 1916 he joined up. He had two years’ honourable service in France, being twice wounded. On demobilization he returned to Leeds University to complete his studies, eventually taking his degree in science. In 1921 he entered the Crowther Electromotor Works, then the property of his father and uncle, but of which he afterwards became the sole owner.
‘In the following year, 1922, Andrew Crowther, the prisoner’s uncle, and joint owner of the motor works, retired from the business. He broke completely adrift from it, taking out of it all his money. The works then belonged absolutely to the prisoner’s father, Henry Swinburn. The accused thereupon became a partner. Five years later, in 1927, Henry Swinburn died, the accused then becoming sole owner of the property.’
After this beginning Sir Richard described the vicissitudes of the works, showing that after Charles took over the management it had first enjoyed a period of prosperity, and had then got into difficulties. Almost figure by figure he traced the gradually increasing financial embarrassment Charles had suffered since the slump set in. This information, Charles recognized unhappily, must all have been obtained from his private ledger, the book which up till then no eye but his own had ever seen. ‘These figures,’ declared Sir Richard, ‘will be put before you in evidence, and you will see from them that by the middle of last summer the accused’s position had become intolerable. Ruin, in fact, was staring him in the face. He was going to have to take some drastic step to save himself, or else go under.
‘It may be thought that his state of affairs supplied a sufficient motive for the crime which it is alleged he afterwards committed, but it happens that the prisoner had a further incentive to retain his existing mode of life. Whether that second motive was or was not more powerful than the first I cannot tell you, but you will all agree that it must have been extremely powerful. The prisoner was, in fact, in love,’ and Sir Richard went on to develop this line of argument. Charles groaned as Una was mentioned by name, and the history of his attachment to her was set out in cold and dreadful detail.
‘Money, then,’ went on Sir Richard, ‘must be had if utter ruin was to be avoided. Where might it be obtained?
‘The accused tried the usual methods. Evidence will be put before you that he had overdrawn his bank account by £6,000, and that on the 14th of August he approached the manager for a further overdraft. On the same date he attempted unsuccessfully to borrow £1,000 from a moneylender.
‘Ordinary means had failed him, but there remained one source of supply still untapped. His uncle, Andrew Crowther, was a rich man.’ Briefly Sir Richard described Andrew Crowther’s affairs; his money, his will, his health, his peculiar temperament. ‘Swinburn decided to appeal to his uncle, and he did so on the 15th, the 17th and the 25th of August. As a result of this appeal Andrew Crowther handed him a cheque for £1,000, and there is doubt where a further sum was or was not to follow. The accused’s own statement is that he got £1,000 and hoped to get a second. But, members of the jury, a thousand pounds or even two would have been little use to him. The figures taken from his own private ledger will show that nothing less than £6,000 or £7,000 could have saved him.
‘Where, then,’ said Sir Richard in his incisive voice, ‘might the necessary money be obtained? There was only one source. Swinburn was aware of his uncle’s will. It was obvious to him that if Andrew Crowther were to die his own future would be assured.’
Sir Richard paused, ostensibly to consult his notes, but really, even Charles could not but see, because his orator’s instinct told him that a pause was necessary to drive home his point. The audience had settled down to silence and intentness. Charles tried to rally his courage. Under this pitiless exposé his motive was standing out clear and unquestionable as the beam of a lighthouse on a dark night. Of course, he reminded himself, there never had been any question of his motive. He had always admitted it himself. It was his action that they could never prove.
‘Now,’ Sir Richard continued, ‘it happened that Andrew Crowther suffered from indigestion and that for this complaint he took three times a day after meals a certain pill. These pills, Salter’s Anti-Indigestion Pills, are a patent medicine and are sold in identical bottles of standard sizes. You will hear that Swinburn knew of his uncle’s ailment and of his habit of taking one of these pills after each meal. Now it must have been obvious to him that if poison could be inserted into a pill, and if that poisoned pill could be introduced into Andrew Crowther’s bottle, he would sooner or later take that pill and die, though the person who put it there might be far away from the place at the time. I shall prove to you that the poison was i
n point of fact inserted into one of these pills, and the pill introduced into Andrew Crowther’s bottle, and that the deceased did take that pill, and that he died as the result.’
Once again one of those ghastly attacks of fear drove down on Charles. He had, of course, known that this would be part of the case against him. All the same, to hear it announced in that definite unquestioning way somehow seemed to make it infinitely more deadly. Sir Richard seemed so sure… But of course that was his business. He was paid to seem sure. It was all right. Charles rallied himself.
‘I have mentioned that the accused had interviews with his uncle on the 15th and 17th of August,’ went on Sir Richard. ‘This second interview on the 17th was the one at which Andrew Crowther handed him the cheque for £1,000, and we may take it, I suggest, that the accused left that interview knowing that his application had failed. He had got a thousand and might get a second, but he wanted six or seven. I submit that at that time he had decided on his course of action and that his uncle’s fate was sealed.
‘On the 21st, four days after that interview, the accused drove to London, where he stayed for the nights of the 21st and 22nd. His ostensible reason for the journey was a call on a Reading firm relative to some machinery which he was contemplating buying for his works. He did pay that visit to Reading, but I shall prove that he did some other business besides: two other pieces of business.
‘The first was this. If Andrew Crowther were to be murdered, several weeks, if not months, must elapse before the prisoner would be able to handle the actual cash. Money must therefore be provided with which to carry on till the larger sum became available.
‘Now, on that visit to Town I shall prove that Swinburn took with him in his car fourteen pictures which had been collected from time to time by his father and which had a total value of about £3,000. He took them ostensibly to have them cleaned, but they were not cleaned. Instead he pledged them for a sum of £2,100. This money was not paid into his bank, but he received it in notes. You will hear further that he estimated the time during which he would leave the pictures pledged at six months, which, I suggest, indicates that he knew that by the end of that period he would be in funds.
‘The second piece of secret business done during that visit to London was more sinister. I shall prove that on that day, the morning of the accused’s return from Town, he went into a certain chemist’s shop in a street near Waterloo Station, and there, under a false name and on the excuse of wanting to destroy a wasps’ nest, he purchased an ounce of potassium cyanide, the poison from which Andrew Crowther died.’
At this statement a little movement passed over the court, as if in involuntary recognition of its significance. The speech was having its effect. With a dreadful eagerness Charles searched the faces of the jurors, wondering how it was impressing them. The foreman looked as if his mind was already made up. His expression said ‘Guilty!’ and Charles imagined that if he had had his way he would have stopped the case and given his verdict then and there. The weedy-looking man beside him looked doubtful; but then Charles could scarcely imagine him otherwise than doubtful on any question. The others appeared to think it a clear case. Even the expression of the two comfortable women had changed. They still looked sad, but to Charles it now seemed as if they avoided his eyes. The thin woman looked almost pleased. As Charles watched them his heart sank.
Sir Richard’s finely modulated voice continued to rise and fall musically as his speech dragged on and on. Charles gazed at him with horror. In his eyes the man’s very appearance had grown hateful and sinister. His face was so implacable, so relentless, with his strongly marked features, his big nose, his square chin, his thin lips and his forceful expression. A dangerous man! And he was Charles’s enemy. He was fighting for nothing less than Charles’s life.
For a moment Charles was so carried away by this picture that he missed a few sentences. Then his attention swung back.
Sir Richard was now discussing Charles’s visit to The Moat on the 25th of August – the last visit of the three.
‘Now why, let us ask ourselves, did the accused pay that visit to The Moat? As I have said, I shall prove that the accused bought potassium cyanide in London on the 23rd of August. I shall prove also that the deceased died later from taking a pill containing potassium cyanide. I shall prove that this visit to The Moat was the only occasion on which the prisoner saw the deceased between these two months. Therefore, if the accused did put the poison into the deceased’s bottle, it must have been done on that occasion.
‘Let me again ask the question: why did the accused pay that visit? I shall prove that he had been there twice in the previous few days, so that it could scarcely have been a mere social call. Similarly, it could scarcely have been to borrow money: he had already done his utmost in that direction. I shall suggest that that visit was paid, and could only have been paid, with the object of putting the poisoned pill into the bottle. Whether this suggestion is the truth will be for you to say.
‘In this connexion I wish to call your attention to an important point about this visit. After dinner on that evening I shall prove that when the ladies withdrew the prisoner remained alone with the deceased. During that period when the two men were alone, a glass of wine was spilled on the tablecloth. Here again it will be for you, when you have heard the evidence, to say whether this was an accident, or whether it was done purposely by the accused to distract the deceased’s attention while he placed the deadly pill.’
Sir Richard then turned to the cruise. ‘An essential feature of the scheme which, it is submitted, the accused carried out was to provide himself with an alibi. When Andrew Crowther died the accused must be far away. As a matter of fact he was in Naples.’ Then followed a description of Charles’s booking of his ticket, of the cruise itself, of the radiogram received at Naples, and of Charles’s return to Cold Pickerby in time for the funeral.
‘Now,’ went on Sir Richard, ‘there are two points about the cruise to which I want to direct your special attention. The first is the relationship of two dates. I shall prove that the accused booked for his cruise on the morning of the 26th of August. And, members of the jury, it was on the night of the 25th, the previous evening, that he dined with his uncle and, it is submitted, changed the pills. It is submitted that he was waiting till the pills were changed before deciding to go, and that once this was done he took the first cruise which offered.
‘The second point is this. Evidence will be put before you that while the accused was on that cruise he was the whole time in a nervous and excited state; that his first care on returning from excursions was to ask for letters, and that his unease was very noticeable when radiograms were taken round the deck. A Mrs Shearman, a fellow-passenger, will tell you that she noticed his state of mind and commented on it, when the accused explained that he had not been well and had come away for a change. I shall suggest that this uneasiness cannot be explained otherwise than on the assumption that he was expecting news of his uncle’s death.
‘One other point, and I have done. When the tragedy took place fourteen of the accused’s pictures were under pledge in a dealer’s in London. There were, therefore, fourteen blanks on the walls of the accused’s house, and it is obvious these blanks were calculated to lead to questions which might reveal the true urgency of the accused’s financial straits. So great a danger must necessarily be avoided, and the accused endeavoured to avoid it. I shall prove…’ and Sir Richard went on to give full details of Charles’s loan of £5,000 from Messrs Spiller & Morgan.
This was the last point to be made by Sir Richard. With a few brief words of peroration he sat down, and his junior, Mr. Lionel Coppard, rose and called ‘Percival Crosby!’
Then for what seemed the first time since the proceedings opened, his lordship moved. ‘It’s so nearly time for lunch, Mr Coppard, that I think we’d better adjourn now. Two o’clock, please.’
A warder at once touched Charles on the arm and signed to him to follow down the stairs to the w
aiting cells below. As Charles turned he had the vision of the court rising, to stand respectfully while the judge passed out.
Charles felt utterly stunned at the strength of the case which had been urged against him. He had, of course, heard the evidence at the proceedings before magistrates, but somehow, as put by Sir Richard, the whole thing seemed worse than he could have imagined. For the first time the possibility of conviction became real to him. Quilter, however, when he came round to say a word or two of encouragement, seemed quite unmoved by the speech. ‘Wait till Heppenstall gets at them,’ was all he would say. Comforting so far as it went, but it went such a meagre distance!
Charles could not eat, in spite of the rough kindness of one of the warders, who adjured him to keep his pecker up, adding that the food would stand to him. But he felt he could drink the sea dry. He drank and then sat waiting numbly.
When the court reopened there was no delay in getting to business. Crosby was at once called, and Coppard rose to examine him.
Crosby, as might have been expected from his profession, was a good witness. He replied in a clear voice concisely but fully to the questions he was asked, but volunteered nothing. Coppard was very quiet and courteous with him.
After obtaining his position and qualifications, Coppard led his witness through the histories of the Crowther family and of the Electromotor Works. Crosby had been Andrew Crowther’s solicitor for many years, and he described what had taken place at his client’s retirement and the drawing up of his will. He, Crosby, knew of his own knowledge that the accused was aware of the provisions of the will and how they affected himself. When he had finished Charles’s motive had been established beyond possibility of question.
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