Excellent Intentions

by Richard Hull

  “My lord,” Vernon got on to his feet, “my client has sworn that she suspected from the first that Inspector Fenby’s enquiries were of more than a routine nature, and that she went out of her way to assist him in making those enquiries while he was still keeping up the part of being merely sent by the coroner as a matter of course. By the time that she commented to Mr. Ley on the danger of driving with a weak heart, she was well aware that there was a doubt as to how Mr. Cargate died, although it is my submission that she was still unaware of the actual cause.”

  For a fraction of a second Mr. Justice Smith looked a trifle disconcerted. Then he went on. “Very well then, the jury will bear that in mind, but in any case I was about to inform them that this was largely a speculation and slightly outside the case of either side. Moreover, I must point out that the car was not examined, other than by Mr. Ley, whose evidence was regrettably vague, until the Monday.

  “That then is the story which the prosecution has put before you. The defence tell you that it is vague in its details, hypothetical, and that it does not amount to proof. You will give that point of view careful consideration.

  “Nevertheless the defence have to admit that somebody placed potassium cyanide in the deceased’s snuffbox between the hours of 9.45 a.m. and 3.30 p.m., or at any rate 5 p.m. on that afternoon, even if they do not concede that that poison was the direct cause of death.

  “They have suggested that there were three other people who might have done so; Mr. Yockleton in defence of religion and his parish, Mr. Macpherson in an attempt to protect the stamp trade, and Raikes because he was under notice to leave or perhaps, since we seem fated in this case to be given peculiar and unusual motives, out of horror at the breakdown of his master’s manhood. You will remember the strange scene which he described in terms which I, for one, found rather moving.

  “What is it, Mr. Vernon? You seem to be about to object to that sentence. The jury will, I am sure, understand that I am not trying to prejudice them in favour of Raikes but merely expressing a personal opinion as to the sentimental effect of one incident not too directly connected with the crime.

  “Very well then. To continue. You will notice that the motives of each of these three people is not very strong. Perhaps not so strong as in the case of Knox Forster who, you will remember, did not conceal in the witness box that she had, at the very least, an intense dislike for Mr. Cargate and his opinions.

  “But to return to the other three. Counsel for the Crown has already pointed out the difficulties which beset the path of assuming any of those three to be guilty unless we assume a great deal of Raikes’s evidence to be untrue. Mr. Blayton has simplified my task by going into the points involved in some detail, and the barest outline will suffice for me to recapitulate them.”

  The seats of the jury box were getting harder and harder, and it was with relief that Ellis and his fellow jurymen found that Mr. Justice Smith intended to be as good as his word. It did not take him very long to deal with the three other possibles, but it was also abundantly clear that in the opinion of the learned Judge they were barely possible at all. In a short while he swept all three of them aside and turned to another point. “And finally,” he said, “we have the position of the snuffbox and the bottle.

  “A careful examination of this has been put before you and I shall not detain you long over the matter. As to the snuffbox, you will have observed that Raikes definitely stated that it was by Cargate’s left hand, and that Miss Knox Forster said it was by his right hand both at the same time of the morning and that Macpherson said that later in the afternoon it was by the deceased’s left-hand side. Quite what the prosecution deduce from this, I am not quite clear. The defence say that it just shows how inaccurate Knox Forster was, that it was a genuine mistake made in good faith, and that she was quite capable of making similar mistakes over, for instance, the roses. You must decide how much, if any, importance is to be attached to that.

  “As to the position of the small bottle of poison, it was certainly on the table at 10.45, for here Raikes is confirmed by Mr. Yockleton. At twelve o’clock it was certainly on the window-sill, if you believe Hardy the gardener. Indeed it was there at 11.38 if you think that Raikes is speaking the truth in what he reports that the deceased said. Apparently it did not move in effect afterwards although it might have been picked up and put down again. But just after eleven-thirty, when, according to Miss Knox Forster, she went out to get the rose, if she did go out, it was on the window-sill.

  “Was it? The defence say that it was, and Cargate himself put it there. The prosecution say that it was not but that the accused thought that it was and that therefore, when she picked it up, as they say, at about 11.32, she put it down again, not on the table, but on the window-sill. You must remember that in their submission she did not go out into the garden at that time at all and so did not see it through the window.

  “Well, members of the jury, I think that that is all I can say that will be of assistance to you. You will now retire and consider your verdict.”

  Part VI

  Verdict

  John Ellis led his party into the bleak and dreary room provided for the jury. Somehow it seemed all the more dank because they had to consider what had happened on two or more hot days in July.

  All through the case he had been dreading this moment when—as he supposed—he would have to give a lead to the other eleven, for Ellis, though not a vain man, had a definite opinion of his own value, and he thought that if he made up his own mind definitely, he would have little difficulty in getting the others to agree with him.

  And the worst of it was that he had come to no decision. He wanted very much to have an interval for quiet reflection as he would have done if it had been a matter connected with the ministry in which he held the rank of principal. There, although he genuinely worked extremely hard, he was not as a rule called upon to give a decision in a hurry. And indeed, to his mind, the system was a wise one. He was sure, for instance, that all his fellow jurymen would have been more capable of giving a correct verdict after a night’s sleep. That, perhaps, such a delay would not be welcome to the accused, did not occur to him; it never worried him to keep the public waiting if there was, in his eyes, a good reason, and he saw no reason to alter his practice in this case.

  But now, owing to this improper haste, he was undecided, and he dreaded one of his colleagues coming out with a definite statement too soon, because he knew that it was then only too likely that he would take the opposite view out of sheer perverseness. For at all times his nicely poised mind recoiled from any case that was overstated. Indeed all through the trial he had been conscious of a desire to contradict both Blayton and the Judge, simply because they seemed so certain. Vernon, on the other hand, had been so much more reasonable. He had continually taken the line of saying, “Well, of course it might have happened like that. But it might equally have been—” It was a method which appealed to Ellis, but perhaps not to all the rest of the jury.

  So it came about that there was a noticeably long silence in the jury room which at last was broken by a seedy looking little man in a black suit with a green tie and a high single collar which hardly opened at all in front. “Method,” he said suddenly, “that’s what we’ve got to use. I always say that to my wife when it comes to running our shop. Fish, Pritchett and Hanson. In Market Square. And very good fish too. Pleased to serve any of you.” He delved in his pocket for his trade cards.

  “I think you are quite right,” Ellis answered gravely, trying not to allow his internal merriment at the little man’s opportunism to be too apparent. “We must consider the matter methodically.”

  “And the first thing—leastways the thing that seems to me to come first”—the large farmer seemed rather surprised to find himself talking at all, and even more startled to notice that everyone was listening to him—“is this. Was he poisoned, or did he just die?”

  “Does
it really matter?” A rather decided young man, probably a bank clerk put in. “He was meant to be killed anyhow.”

  “It would make the difference between murder and attempted murder, I suppose.” Ellis felt that somebody had to answer the question. “And I imagine—in fact I am sure—that the penalties are very different.”

  “She’s only been accused of murder, hasn’t she. Does that make a difference? I only just want to know.” The fourth juryman was an assistant in a bookshop in the assize town, and had the rest of the jury been aware of it, he went through life saying that he “only just wanted to know”.

  “We can, if necessary, ask the Judge,” Ellis answered. “I am not a lawyer, but I believe we could find her guilty of attempted murder if we liked. But perhaps the question won’t arise.”

  An amused smile came across the face of a superior looking man, who was neither quite a gentleman nor quite a farmer, but who thought that he was undoubtedly both, and did at any rate know that Ellis’s remarks, especially as to attempted murder, were wide of the mark. “I was under the impression, Mr. Foreman, that the jury were required to find the facts and that the law was usually left to the Judge. At any rate there is a popular superstition to that effect.”

  “We don’t seem to have been directed about it.” Ellis was angry with himself for being so helpless. “I mean about the difference.”

  “I think we were,” a rather stout, retired farmer broke in. “We all heard what the Judge said about even a chap with a bad heart being entitled to have a chance. And for him to peg out nice and neatly and opportunely like that, just afore he took the snuff, wouldn’t be in the nature of things. No, if you ask my opinion it’s murder all right, and there’s no need to split hairs about it. Judge practically said so.”

  There was a general murmur of assent in which even the superior man joined. “And really,” thought Ellis, “they’re almost certainly right. I don’t think I need make them think that over again. Very well, then,” he said aloud, “that preliminary point is settled.”

  “That’s right,” the man in the green tie broke in, “that’s method, that is.”

  “Then the next point is, I suppose,” Ellis began to take charge, “to see if we agree that anyone can be eliminated. Shall we start with Macpherson?”

  “He’s our man,” the bank clerk put in suddenly. “You never can trust these stamp dealers. I had a lovely collection once—over two thousand and all different—but when I tried to sell it, do you think I could get anything for it? Not even half a dollar. Now, if I had wanted to buy it—”

  “But is that any reason for suggesting—?”

  “Perhaps not, Mr. Foreman. But they’re a dishonest lot anyhow. Mixed perforations indeed! Whatever that may mean. Mixed morals, I should say too.”

  “And perhaps rather mixed ideas.” The superior man looked at the ceiling.

  “This isn’t methodical.” The fish merchant was at least consistent.

  “I don’t think, you know,” Ellis, sighing for the orderliness of his office, kept his temper admirably, “that we ought to consider anything that was not given to us as evidence. I am sure that we all sympathize with you about your stamp collection, but I thought that when Macpherson gave his evidence, he seemed to be speaking perfectly truthfully.”

  “Well, I’m all for finding him guilty.” The abortive sale of the stamp collection seemed still to be rankling deeply.

  “I don’t think we can do that. We can only bring in a verdict of ‘guilty’ or ‘not guilty’ in the case of Miss Knox Forster.”

  “The foreman’s right there—”

  “What, can’t we hang that blasted butler—slimy brute?” The retired farmer seemed genuinely surprised.

  “I’m afraid not. I was suggesting that we should first decide whether we could eliminate—leave out—Macpherson. Would you like to consider the points about him first?”

  “The Judge did that, didn’t he?” The superior man’s voice was intolerably urbane. “I propose that we leave out both Macpherson and Yockleton—silly sort of name anyhow.”

  “I second that.” The remark came from a man who had not spoken before, but who acted on the principle that it helped to reach a decision rapidly if every proposition was immediately seconded. In his opinion it brought things to an issue, and curbed unnecessary discussion, and at any committee meeting which he attended he made an invariable practice of seconding everything—occasionally absent-mindedly seconding the opposition to something whose proposal he had already attempted to secure.

  But it did not always work in practice as a time-saving device because very often people, quite unnecessarily, seemed prompted to oppose what was put forward. Of course that was all right if the chairman had the sense to take an immediate vote, but so very often he allowed people to express the reasons which led them to hold their views, and that invariably wasted a great deal of time, and, so far as could be found out, never caused anyone to alter his or her opinion. And so in this case it turned out to be. Quite an animated debate began to grow up as to the possibility of Macpherson being guilty. Very often it even had some connection with the evidence that had been given.

  Eventually, however, Ellis managed to regain some control over the meeting. “Perhaps it would clear the air if we voted on the matter.”

  “I second that. Ought to have voted long ago.”

  “Those in favour of the view that Macpherson did not do it? Ten and myself—eleven. Against?”

  The bank clerk shrugged his shoulders. “Very well then—have it your own way. And if we can’t hang him anyhow, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Now to turn to the rector—Mr. Yockleton. Can we take a similar vote?”

  “I second that.”

  Ellis looked round, and to his pleasure found that they were unanimous. “Then it comes to this. Either the accused did it, that means we vote ‘guilty’, or Raikes did it, in which case we vote ‘not guilty’, or we don’t know which of them did it, in which case we again vote ‘not guilty’.”

  “Too many suggestions of ‘not guilty’ if you ask my opinion. The Judge seemed to have made up his mind quite easily.” The superior man again contemplated the ceiling.

  “Ah, but you must look at it the way the foreman says—that’s method, that is.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Pritchett.”

  “Hanson.”

  “Mr. Hanson, I should say. Now just to start the discussion, I’m going to suggest that she wasn’t guilty at all, or at any rate that it isn’t proved. It seemed to me that the Judge was a great deal too biased against her. He ought to have stressed the points in her defence more clearly. As it was, I don’t think that he was fair. For instance, she was a decent, peaceful sort of woman who could never have brought herself to commit a murder. Why, it even came out that she was a conscientious objector, and couldn’t bring herself to take life.”

  “Not quite that.” Mr. Hanson began to contribute to the discussion something more positive than his previous remarks. “Only that she disapproved of war, which we all do, though we may differ in our ideas as to how to stop it. But there wasn’t anything to say that she disapproved of taking wasps’ nests. And that’s what she did, if you ask me. She’d been living under the same roof as Cargate for months, and hating him every minute of it, hating him more and more every day and having to listen to him putting forward opinions which seemed to her to be downright wicked, and behaving to everybody in a way that she couldn’t stand. And all the time she had to disguise her feelings until she was ready to burst. And finally she did burst. Or rather he did.”

  “Isn’t that rather an assumption?”

  “It’s what the Judge thought anyhow, and, if you ask me, it’s true. Personally I think she was absolutely right, but I suppose we mustn’t take that into consideration.”

  “I think there can be no doubt, Mr. Foreman” (Ellis found that he intensel
y disliked being called “Mr. Foreman” by the superior man, but he had to admit that it did bring the discussion back to the point), “that she lied about that rose. And about the scratches on the bowl, if you ask me. And about the time at which they went in to lunch.”

  “No doubt about the former. I’ve got both those sorts of roses in my garden, and you can’t possibly mistake one for the other.” The retired farmer spoke more from experience than from evidence.

  “It seems to me that there are two possible answers to that,” Ellis replied. “First of all, she is very short-sighted, and anyhow knows less about roses than you do. And secondly Raikes may have deliberately thrown away the one she put in.”

  “You’re being too clever, mister,” a hitherto silent juryman broke in. “How would Raikes know whether it mattered or not?”

  “He called attention to the type of roses in the bowl. It seems to me that he was trying to bring them to the Inspector’s notice.”

  “But he didn’t know she was going to say that.”

  “Supposing he heard her talking to the Inspector?”

  “You bet he couldn’t. The police are too fly for that.”

  “All the same,” Ellis found his own opinion weakening, “we ought to be quite sure before we decide. I am sure you all want to consider everything that there is to be said for her.”

  “The Judge didn’t find much to say,” the superior man commented. “He knows a lot more about these things than we do. He’s had more experience of witnesses trying to lie to him than we have, and he saw through her all right. Besides no one else could have done it. We all agree—at least practically we all agree—that it could not have been anyone but her or Raikes, and it couldn’t have been Raikes because he’s got a cast-iron alibi all the time unless you’re going to say what nobody has so far, that the cook was in it with him. There isn’t a scrap of evidence to support it, whereas with the other woman, there’s the roses, there’s the bowl, there’s the washing, and there’s the car. I attach rather a lot of importance myself to the car. It just fits in with her type. No war, no; but a murder, yes. A murder, yes; but an accident, no. Don’t like those sort of people. Much better hanged.”