"Esdaile did go out of town, didn't he?" he asked.
"I'll tell you about Esdaile in a moment. Go on about the inquest."
He seemed puzzled, but went on.
"Of course, that was my idea in speaking to that Inspector that morning.It would have been a pity to upset the Esdailes' plans. So I explainedthis to the Inspector and gave him my card--said I hadn't seen verymuch, but as much as anybody else--result, I was made foreman of thejury."
Here I had a little flash of illumination as regards Inspector Webstertoo. Esdaile, if you remember, had said to him, "Yes, that was Mr.Mackwith, the King's Counsel; didn't you know?" and Webster hadanswered, "Was he indeed, sir?" My respect for the Inspector's powersof giving nothing away went up several hundreds per cent. Apparently itwas the Inspector who had seen to it that Billy had been put on thejury.
"Well, you were made foreman. You said one man gave trouble. Who, andwhy?"
"Oh, some fellow or other--Westcott or Westmacott I think his namewas--I forget. Insisted on viewing the body. Wanted his money's worth Isuppose. He was sorry he did though."
This was more and more interesting. I asked what sort of a man thisWestmacott was.
"The sort of fellow who would be down in the cellar before his wife andchildren when there was an air-raid on, I should say," Billy replied."Awful nuisance of a man. But he got his all right. He'll probably betaking solid food again this day week."
"Then you did see the body?"
"Had to, if only to keep this fellow quiet. He stuck out right to thefinish too, but we got our dozen without him. Prima facie case, ofcourse. Death by burning, and what wasn't that was general smash-up."
"Was a doctor called?"
"The divisional surgeon was there, but he quite agreed, and I saw to therest in my capacity as foreman. There was only one man who wasn'tsatisfied, and he was busy----" Billy twinkled wickedly.
You may imagine how I was beginning to relish all this. The Chelsea Artswith its rags about haunted houses and White Ladies who dropped hairpinswas well enough in its way, but its humor could not compare for a momentwith the spectacle of a rising King's Counsel who practically forcedhimself on to a jury-panel, got himself made foreman, and then burkedinquiry by shutting up the only juryman who had as much as a suspicionof the dangerous truth--and all this in the whitest innocence and purestgood faith! I could have laughed aloud. Had he been a willing instrumentin the affair he could not have done his work more efficiently andcompletely.
"Is the poor fellow buried yet?" I asked in a suppressed voice.
"Yesterday," said Billy.
"And he can't be dug up again?"
Mackwith gave me a sharp look. "What do you mean?" he asked quickly.
"Dug. Past participle of the verb to dig. I mean is he buried once forall?"
"Short of an Exhumation Order from the Home Secretary he is. I don'tunderstand you."
"And that's rather difficult to get, isn't it?" I continued.
"I should say the North Pole was comparatively easy," Billy replied.
At this point my laughter really became too much for me. I rememberhoping that it didn't seem too rude, but I couldn't help it. Billy letme finish, and then asked quietly, even gravely, "Now if you're feelingbetter, will you please explain?"
I suppose my laughter had been just a little hysterical. As I havealready told you, I myself stand only on the verge of this Case; but notso my friends, and Esdaile in particular. I remembered--and deep underthat rather remarkable laughter it moved me more than a little to doso--the extraordinary range and sweep of emotions that had shakenEsdaile in the course of a single day. I remembered the bright strainedtension of those first minutes after he had come up out of the cellar,the shock of that telephone message from the hospital that had told himwhat had happened to a friend. I remembered that black depression whenHubbard and I had found him waiting alone in his house for Monty. Iremembered his ache on Joan Merrow's account, our later talk with Monty,his nascent and grim resolve that in the teeth of all the world theaccident theory should be maintained, his dismay when he had realizedwhat a post-mortem examination might disclose. I ran over again hiswhole day, from that merry breakfast-party to the appearance ofInspector Webster in our midst at ten o'clock at night.... Well, oneperil was now safely past. In the absence of the Exhumation Order ofwhich Mackwith spoke, there remained no tittle of material evidence savea battered bit of nickel-steel in Westbury's possession or in that ofthe police. If only for Esdaile's sake, I felt as if a weight had beenlifted from me.
And, on the top of all, Billy Mackwith's innocent complicity must havemoved me to that inane outburst.
"Well, for one thing, Esdaile isn't out of town at all," I said, wipingmy eyes.
"Well, I thought he was. That isn't the joke, is it?"
"Not altogether. You see----"
"Do you mean that stupid _Roundabout_ thing?"
"No.... I beg your pardon, Billy. It came over me all of a sudden. Now Ithink I can tell you----"
And so another was added to our nicely-lengthening list of Principals inthe Case.
IV
While I spoke Billy had risen, and was pretending to examine the printson my walls. I continued to talk; talking was, in fact, my morning'swork that day. I finished, and there was a long silence. I thought mybarrister-friend would never have done looking at those prints.
Then suddenly he crossed over to my table and stood leaning lightly onhis fingertips.
"Why wasn't I told this sooner?" he asked, his eyes brightly on mine.
For a moment I thought he meant that our neglect to inform him hadlanded him into this equivocal position with regard to the coroner'sjury, and was beginning to explain that, being everybody's business, ithad also apparently been nobody's. But he cut me short.
"Oh, I don't mean that. Leave the inquest out of it for the present.What I mean is that I could have saved our friend a good deal of mentalpain if I'd known--and you too," he added, "from the way you laughedjust now."
"How?" I asked.
"In this way," he replied, sitting down on the edge of my table andgiving his striped cashmere trousers a little hitch. "Say that a shothas been fired.... Philip, I take it, has been worrying about theconsequences to this fellow Smith, and incidentally to Miss Merrow. Nowif I'd been there to ask Rooke a few material questions I think I couldhave assured him that it's a thousand to one there won't be anyconsequences."
"Why not?"
"The state of the body," he replied promptly. "Rooke saw it, you say, orat any rate quite enough of it; I saw it too; and, shot or no shot, itwouldn't have taken me two minutes to get out of Rooke that there was noearthly possibility of proving that a shot caused death."
"You mean there were so many other good reasons?"
"Well, I'm not a doctor, but I should say at least a dozen. No wonderthat fellow Westbury--ah, that's his name, not Westcott--had to make abolt for it. Unless somebody can be produced who actually saw the shotfired there won't be the ghost of a Case, and I'm inclined to think thateven then it would reduce itself to shooting with intent to kill orwound--which is a felony, of course, but not quite the same thing asmurder. No, I think you can take it from me that there won't be anyconsequences."
I pondered this for a moment. Then I saw the flaw in it. Every man tohis trade. Here was the advocate speaking, his whole acute mind trainedto one single end--the getting of his man off. But I myself work in adifferent material and saw the Case from my own angle.
"One moment," I interposed. "When you say consequences you mean legalconsequences? In other words he'd slip through your fingers simplybecause nobody actually saw him do it?"
"He wouldn't even be charged. That was practically a certainty beforethe inquest. It's overwhelming now the other fellow's buried."
"But legal consequences are not the only kind of consequences there arein the world."
"Oh, I'm not speaking of moral consequences. They're quite anothermatter," quoth Billy.
"Not as regards Esdaile's having a rotten time over this," I differed."Let's look at it from another point of view for a moment. Neither younor I know Smith. But Hubbard and Esdaile do, and there's thisfriendship between them. And mark you, friendship too isn't always thesame thing it was before the War. There were lots of men we calledfriends then very much as a matter of habit; I mean it didn't oftenoccur to you to ask what kind of a man your friend would be when it cameto the pinch. We've all made new friends, and there are some of the oldones whose names we never want to hear again. You see what I mean? Imean the bond must be pretty strong for two men like Esdaile and Hubbardto take instantly to the thought of shielding Smith like ducks taking towater. I watched them--it was really exciting--you could read both theirfaces like books. Very well. Up to this point we're both talking thesame language. When we say consequences we mean legal consequences.
"But here's where the difference comes in. I don't know what Hubbard'sviews are, as I haven't seen him since that night; but I do know whatEsdaile's are. He's shielding Smith--but only till he hears what he'sgot to say for himself. He doesn't want to condemn him unheard. I admitthat in the meantime he's taken certain rather risky steps, and my ownopinion is that he won't find it very easy if he wants to retrace themagain; the river'd have to be dredged for a pistol, for example, andLord only knows what sort of a reason he'd give for even havinginterfered at all. But my point is that he's done nothing final yet.Smith's got to satisfy him, and if he can't--well, it can't be quite thesame between them again after that, can it?"
"You mean their friendship's broken?"
"Well, that's not quite the way I should put it. It might break, orpossibly it might not. What I mean is that a friendship with a man who'skilled other men in battle isn't the same thing as one with a man whomurders another in peace-time. It may be as good for all I know, as Ihaven't done either, but obviously it isn't the same."
"No, I suppose not," Mackwith agreed. "And as for retracing his steps, Iagree with you that the best thing he can do is to keep his mouth shut.I certainly intend to about that inquest. Life's too short to go movingfor Exhumation Orders."
"Well, next there's Joan Merrow. Exactly the same thing applies to her.Is she going to marry a soldier or an assassin? Is Esdaile going to lether? He's her guardian for all practical purposes, and he's got thatquestion to answer."
The barrister laughed. "I don't think he need worry about that. MissMerrow strikes me as a young woman who won't stand any nonsense fromguardians. Well," he took up his hat and stick, "I must be gettingalong. I didn't expect all this when I came in, but it seems to me theCase is over now. Barring these moral consequences of yours, itpractically ended when I gave in our verdict yesterday."
"I hope you're right," I replied. "I thought so myself a few days ago,though, and that evening a Police Inspector marched in."
He stopped at the door and spoke over his shoulder.
"Oh? You seem doubtful. Any reason?"
"None," I replied. "Only what women call a sort of feeling about it."
Mackwith laughed.
"We'll see about that when it comes," he said. "So long----"
V
The surface indications were of course of the very slightest. So farthey consisted merely of the photograph in the _Roundabout_, myspeculations whether Hodgson had anything up his sleeve, and similartrifles. But others were pending. The danger of the coroner's inquestmight be safely past, but at least half a dozen other rocks loomedimmediately ahead. The Aiglon Company, for example, would want to knowwhat had gone wrong with their machine, and the manufacturers would beeven more interested. The same with the parachute people. The Aero Cluband the Royal Aeronautical Society both have their AccidentsInvestigation Committees, and it was quite likely that claims againstvarious Insurance Offices had already been lodged. You cannot thrust afinger into the close web of modern life without stirring up all mannerof complexities. I suppose it was these that I had already begun tofear.
Perhaps most immediate of all was the question of unauthorized flying.What had that machine been doing over London at all? Military machinescome and go under orders, but not commercial planes piloted by civilianaeronauts. Setting such things as Murder and Manslaughter entirely onone side, was it not probable that Smith would be called to book onthis account? From our point of view it was obviously most undesirablethat he should be brought into Court on any charge at all; but what ifwe couldn't prevent it? What if, in the inhuman collision of powerfulbusiness interests behind, the lawyers were to get to work--an InsuranceCompany resist a claim, say, or the Aiglon people proceed against themanufacturers on a point of warranty? You may think I was seeing lionsin the path, but it is never safe to reckon on meeting nothing moreformidable than a sheep. And I have nothing against lawyers as a class.I don't think Billy Mackwith would pick my pocket of a single sixpence.But I do believe they are like the road-mender with the stone. He hit itwith his hammer ten times without breaking it, and was then askedwhether he did not think he would have a better chance of splitting itif he turned it splitting-edge uppermost. "How do you know I want tosplit it?" he replied. I suspect even Billy of not wanting to split itsometimes.
"Willett!" I called as I entered my office after lunch that day. "Justget me out the latest thing about Air Navigation, will you?"
"Is the new one out yet?" Willett replied, walking to the bigglass-fronted cupboard where we keep the current papers of this kind;the others are on the library shelves downstairs. "I think they werewithdrawn. I seem to remember sending to the Stationery Office and beingtold there'd been a muddle of some sort."
"There must be something in force," I said. "I want that, whatever itis."
"Just a moment--ah, here we are!"
Willett was both right and wrong. A certain issue of Statutory Rulesand Orders had as a matter of fact been withdrawn, but an amendedreprint was now available. He handed the slender white booklet to me. Itwas dated April 30th, 1919, and had therefore been in force for somedays at the time of the Lennox Street accident.
I walked to my desk and settled down to the study of it.
I don't know that I was very much the wiser for my efforts. So muchseemed to be in the air in every sense of the word. The paper was noteven an Act, but an Order, and it seemed to me that its phrases about"contravention of these Regulations" might in practice mean almostanything. What, for example, did "stress of weather or other unavoidablecause" mean? What would happen in case of a kind of accident expresslyexcluded from the Order--"within a circle of a radius of one mile fromthe center of a licensed aerodrome"? What about the special casespermitted "by direction of the Secretary of State on the recommendationof a Government Department"? I don't mean that the intention of it allwasn't plain enough. The drafters of the Regulations had done the bestthey could in a new and totally unexplored field. For all practicalpurposes this new science was just as old as the War, and these detailedpoints of law had not arisen during the War. But they were coming upnow, a whole body of practice still to make, and any youngster who chosecould loop the loop and what little proved Law there was at one and thesame time.
In fact, the only quite unmistakable paragraph I found was the one thatpromised proper castigation "to any person obstructing or impeding theauthorities" and so forth--that is to say, Hubbard, Esdaile, myself andthe rest of our little gang of law-breakers.
And, before I pass on, bear with me for one moment while I ask you toobserve how all History began to loom behind our Case, ready at anymoment to drive it irresistibly forward. For that four-centuries-oldUpspringing of daring and glory and adventure that we call theRenaissance is come suddenly and magically into our midst again to-day.There are now to seek and to chart and to possess Indies and Orients,not of the unembraced and bridal waters, but of the already defeated andsubject Air. Our age hears the old imperious call, and across fourhundred years of time the hands of a George receive Romance from thoseof an Elizabeth. It may seem a far cry from this
to the Man in thePublic-house, but it crept and lapped about our Case like aslowly-mounting flood. Idle rumors brought with the milk to Chelseadoorsteps; a Press eager to take its lead from any momentary whiff thatruffles the popular mind; a Government that without that Press could notgovern for a week; and the radiance of this new sunburst over all--thisis the apparatus of our Drakes and Burleighs of to-day. And, so long asthe mighty thing went forward unimpeded, what did any individual matter?
VI
"Foreman? You may well say foreman! But he hasn't finished with me yet!You've seen what it says in to-day's _Roundabout_, haven't you? Verywell, young-fellow-me-lad; you watch it! They laugh best that laughlast. It isn't over yet!"
I was grinding my teeth behind my copy of the paper he had justmentioned. The thick-headed fool had done it. I was not reading thepaper; I was merely using it to hide behind as I stood at thePublic-house counter with one foot on the brass rail.
"Over? It hasn't begun yet!" Westbury continued, his convex eyes glaringfrom one face to another. "It's ventilation these thingswant--ventilation in the public Press--and I tell you I haven't startedyet! I went into this Case out of public spirit--'Webster,' I says toour friend, 'if you want me you know where to find me'--I'm a busy manwith my own private affairs to look after, but right's right and I'm notthe man to hang back when forward's the word--and if they think I'm aseasy stopped as all that they're mistaken, K.C. or no K.C.! The body wasviewed--some of 'em didn't want to, but I saw to that--but I contendthere ought to have been a proper post-mortem. And you may take it fromme that if there had been this Case would have gone forward."
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