Clouds of Witness Read online

  The Coroner: ‘Whose house?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Oh, Christ Church, Oxford. He wrote to say he’d seen the announcement of my sister’s engagement in Egypt.’

  The Coroner: ‘In Egypt?’

  Duke of D.: ‘I mean, he was in Egypt – Tom Freeborn, you see – that’s why he hadn’t written before. He engineers. He went out there after the war was over, you see, and, bein’ somewhere up near the sources of the Nile, he doesn’t get the papers regularly. He said, would I ’scuse him for interferin’ in a very delicate matter, and all that, but did I know who Cathcart was? Said he’d met him in Paris during the war, and he lived by cheatin’ at cards – said he could swear to it, with details of a row there’d been in some French place or other. Said he knew I’d want to chaw his head off – Freeborn’s, I mean – for buttin’ in, but he’d seen the man’s photo in the paper, an’ he thought I ought to know.’

  The Coroner: ‘Did this letter surprise you?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Couldn’t believe it at first. If it hadn’t been old Tom Freeborn I’d have put the thing in the fire straight off, and, even as it was, I didn’t quite know what to think. I mean to say, Frenchmen get so excited about nothing. Only there was Freeborn, and he isn’t the kind of man that makes mistakes.’

  The Coroner: ‘What did you do?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Well, the more I looked at it the less I liked it, you know. Still, I couldn’t quite leave it at that, so I thought the best way was to go straight to Cathcart. They’d all gone up while I was sittin’ thinkin’ about it, so I went up and knocked at Cathcart’s door. He said, “What’s that?” or “Who the devil’s that?” or somethin’ of the sort, and I went in. “Look here,” I said, “can I just have a word with you?” “Well, cut it short, then,” he said. I was surprised – he wasn’t usually rude. “Well,” I said, “fact is, I’ve had a letter I don’t like the look of, and I thought the best thing to do was to bring it straight away to you an’ have the whole thing cleared up. It’s from a man – a very decent sort – old college friend, who says he’s met you in Paris.” “Paris!” he said, in a most uncommonly unpleasant way. “Paris! What the hell do you want to come talkin’ to me about Paris for?” “Well,” I said, “don’t talk like that, because it’s misleadin’ under the circumstances.” “What are you drivin’ at?” says Cathcart. “Spit it out and go to bed, for God’s sake.” I said, “Right oh! I will. It’s a man called Freeborn, who says he knew you in Paris and that you made money cheatin’ at cards.” I thought he’d break out at that, but all he said was, “What about it?” “What about it?” I said. “Well, of course, it’s not the sort of thing I’m goin’ to believe like that, right bang-slap off, without any proofs.” Then he said a funny thing. He said, “Beliefs don’t matter – it’s what one knows about people.” “Do you mean to say you don’t deny it?” I said. “It’s no good my denying it,” he said; “you must make up your own mind. Nobody could disprove it.” And then he suddenly jumped up, nearly knocking the table over, and said, “I don’t care what you think or what you do, if you’ll only get out. For God’s sake leave me alone!” “Look here,” I said, “you needn’t take it that way. I don’t say I do believe it – in fact,” I said, “I’m sure there must be some mistake; only, you bein’ engaged to Mary,” I said, “I couldn’t just let it go at that without looking into it, could I?” “Oh !” says Cathcart, “if that’s what’s worrying you, it needn’t. That’s off.” I said, “What?” He said, “Our engagement.” “Off?” I said. “But I was talking to Mary about it only yesterday.” “I haven’t told her yet,” he said. “Well,” I said, “I think that’s damned cool. Who the hell do you think you are, to come here and jilt my sister?” Well, I said quite a lot, first and last. “You can get out,” I said; “I’ve no use for swine like you.” “I will,” he said, and he pushed past me an’ slammed downstairs and out of the front door, an’ banged it after him.’

  The Coroner: ‘What did you do?’

  Duke of D.: ‘I ran into my bedroom, which has a window over the conservatory, and shouted out to him not to be a silly fool. It was pourin’ with rain and beastly cold. He didn’t come back, so I told Fleming to leave the conservatory door open – in case he thought better of it – and went to bed.’

  The Coroner: ‘What explanation can you suggest for Cathcart’s behaviour?’

  Duke of D.: ‘None, I was simply staggered. But I think he must somehow have got wind of the letter, and knew the game was up.’

  The Coroner: ‘Did you mention the matter to anybody else?’

  Duke of D.: ‘No, It wasn’t pleasant, and I thought I’d better leave it till the morning.’

  The Coroner: ‘So you did nothing further in the matter?’

  Duke of D.: ‘No. I didn’t want to go out huntin’ for the fellow. I was too angry. Besides, I thought he’d change his mind before long – it was a brute of a night and he’d only a dinner-jacket.’

  The Coroner: ‘Then you just went quietly to bed and never saw deceased again?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Not till I fell over him outside the conservatory at three in the morning.’

  The Coroner: ‘Ah yes. Now can you tell us how you came to be out of doors at that time?’

  Duke of D. (hesitating): ‘I didn’t sleep well. I went out for a stroll.’

  The Coroner: ‘At three o’clock in the morning?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Yes.’ With sudden inspiration: ‘You see, my wife’s away.’ (Laughter and some remarks from the back of the room.)

  The Coroner: ‘Silence, please. . . . You mean to say that you got up at that hour of an October night to take a walk in the garden in the pouring rain?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Yes, just a stroll.’ (Laughter.)

  The Coroner: ‘At what time did you leave your bedroom?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Oh – oh, about half-past two, I should think.’

  The Coroner: ‘Which way did you go out?’

  Duke of D.: ‘By the conservatory door.’

  The Coroner: ‘The body was not there when you went out?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Oh no!’

  The Coroner: ‘Or you would have seen it?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Lord, yes! I’d have had to walk over it.’

  The Coroner: ‘Exactly where did you go?’

  Duke of D. (vaguely) : ‘Oh, just round about.’

  The Coroner: ‘You heard no shot?’

  Duke of D.: ‘No.’

  The Coroner: ‘Did you go far away from the conservatory door and the shrubbery?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Well – I was some way away. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t hear anything. It must have been.’

  The Coroner: ‘Were you as much as a quarter of a mile away?’

  Duke of D.: ‘I should think I was – oh yes, quite!’

  The Coroner: ‘More than a quarter of a mile away?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Possibly. I walked about briskly because it was cold.’

  The Coroner: ‘In which direction?’

  Duke of D. (with visible hesitation): ‘Round at the back of the house. Towards the bowling-green.’

  The Coroner: ‘The bowling-green?’

  Duke of D. (more confidently): ‘Yes.’

  The Coroner: ‘But if you were more than a quarter of a mile away, you must have left the grounds?’

  Duke of D.: ‘I – oh yes – I think I did. Yes, I walked about on the moor a bit, you know.’

  The Coroner: ‘Can you show us the letter you had from Mr Freeborn?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Oh, certainly – if I can find it. I thought I put it in my pocket, but I couldn’t find it for that Scotland Yard fellow.’

  The Coroner: ‘Can you have accidentally destroyed it?’

  Duke of D.: ‘No – I’m sure I remember putting it – Oh’ – here the witness paused in very patent confusion, and grew red – ‘I remember now. I destroyed it.’

  The Coroner. ‘That is unfortunate. How was that?’

  Duke of D.: ‘I had forgotten; it has c
ome back to me now. I’m afraid it has gone for good.’

  The Coroner : ‘Perhaps you kept the envelope?’

  Witness shook his head.

  The Coroner: ‘Then you can show the jury no proof of having received it?’

  Duke of D.: ‘Not unless Fleming remembers it.’

  The Coroner: ‘Ah yes! No doubt we can check it that way. Thank you, your grace. Call Lady Mary Wimsey.’

  The noble lady, who was, until the tragic morning of October 14th, the fiancée of the deceased, aroused a murmur of sympathy on her appearance. Fair and slender, her naturally rose-pink cheeks ashy pale, she seemed overwhelmed with grief. She was dressed entirely in black, and gave her evidence in a very low tone which was at times almost inaudible.*

  After expressing his sympathy, the Coroner asked, ‘How long had you been engaged to the deceased?’

  Witness: ‘About eight months.’

  The Coroner: ‘Where did you first meet him?’

  Witness: ‘At my sister-in-law’s house in London.’

  The Coroner: ‘When was that?’

  Witness: ‘I think it was June last year.’

  The Coroner: ‘You were quite happy in your engagement?’

  Witness: ‘Quite.’

  The Coroner: ‘You naturally saw a good deal of Captain Cathcart. Did he tell you much about his previous life?’

  * From the newspaper report, not Mr Parker.

  Witness: ‘Not very much. We were not given to mutual confidences. We usually discussed subjects of common interest.’

  The Coroner: ‘You had many such subjects?’

  Witness: ‘Oh yes.’

  The Coroner: ‘You never gathered at any time that Captain Cathcart had anything on his mind?’

  Witness: ‘Not particularly. He had seemed a little anxious the last few days.’

  The Coroner: ‘Did he speak of his life in Paris?’

  Witness: ‘He spoke of theatres and amusements there. He knew Paris very well. I was staying in Paris with some friends last February, when he was there, and he took us about. That was shortly after our engagement.’

  The Coroner: ‘Did he ever speak of playing cards in Paris?’

  Witness: ‘I don’t remember.’

  The Coroner: ‘With regard to your marriage – had any money settlements been gone into?’

  Witness: ‘I don’t think so. The date of the marriage was not in any way fixed.’

  The Coroner: ‘He always appeared to have plenty of money?’

  Witness: ‘I suppose so; I didn’t think about it.’

  The Coroner: ‘You never heard him complain of being hard up?’

  Witness: ‘Everybody complains of that, don’t they?’

  The Coroner: ‘Was he a man of cheerful disposition?’

  Witness: ‘He was very moody, never the same two days together.’

  The Coroner: ‘You have heard what your brother says about the deceased wishing to break off the engagement. Had you any idea of this?’

  Witness: ‘Not the slightest.’

  The Coroner: ‘Can you think of any explanation now?’

  Witness: ‘Absolutely none.’

  The Coroner: ‘There had been no quarrel?’

  Witness: ‘No.’

  The Coroner: ‘So far as you knew, on the Wednesday evening, you were still engaged to deceased with every prospect of being married to him shortly?’

  Witness: ‘Ye-es. Yes, certainly, of course.’

  The Coroner: ‘He was not – forgive me this very painful question – the sort of man who would have been likely to lay violent hands on himself?’

  Witness: ‘Oh, I never thought – well, I don’t know – I suppose he might have done. That would explain it, wouldn’t it?’

  The Coroner: ‘Now, Lady Mary – please don’t distress yourself, take your own time – will you tell us exactly what you heard and saw on Wednesday night and Thursday morning?’

  Witness: ‘I went up to bed with Mrs Marchbanks and Mrs Pettigrew-Robinson at about half-past nine, leaving all the men downstairs. I said good night to Denis, who seemed quite as usual. I was not downstairs when the post came. I went to my room at once. My room is at the back of the house. I heard Mr Pettigrew-Robinson come up at about ten. The Pettigrew-Robinsons sleep next door to me. Some of the other men came up with him. I did not hear my brother come upstairs. At about a quarter past ten I heard two men talking loudly in the passage, and then I heard someone run downstairs and bang the front door. Afterwards I heard rapid steps in the passage, and finally I heard my brother shut his door. Then I went to bed.’

  The Coroner: ‘You did not inquire the cause of the disturbance?’

  Witness (indifferently): ‘I thought it was probably some thing about the dogs.’

  The Coroner: ‘What happened next?’

  Witness: ‘I woke up at three o’clock.’

  The Coroner: ‘What wakened you?’

  Witness: ‘I heard a shot.’

  The Coroner: ‘You were not awake before you heard it?’

  Witness: ‘I may have been partly awake. I heard it very distinctly. I was sure it was a shot. I listened for a few minutes, and then went down to see if anything was wrong.’

  The Coroner: ‘Why did you not call your brother or some other gentleman?’

  Witness (scornfully): ‘Why should I? I thought it was probably only poachers, and I didn’t want to make an unnecessary fuss at that unearthly hour.’

  The Coroner: ‘Did the shot sound close to the house?’

  Witness: ‘Fairly, I think – it is hard to tell when one is awakened by a noise – it always sounds so extra loud.’

  The Coroner: ‘It did not seem to be in the house or in the conservatory?’

  Witness: ‘No, it was outside.’

  The Coroner: ‘So you went downstairs by yourself. That was very plucky of you, Lady Mary. Did you go immediately?’

  Witness: ‘Not quite immediately. I thought it over for a few minutes; then I put on walking-shoes over bare feet, a heavy covert-coat, and a woolly cap. It may have been five minutes after hearing the shot that I left my bedroom. I went downstairs and through the billiard-room to the conservatory.’

  The Coroner: ‘Why did you go out that way?’

  Witness: ‘Because it was quicker than unbolting either the front door or the back door.’

  At this point a plan of Riddlesdale Lodge was handed to the jury. It is a roomy, two-storied house, built in a plain style, and leased by the present owner, Mr Walter Montague, to the Duke of Denver for the season, Mr Montague being in the States.

  Witness (resuming): ‘When I got to the conservatory door I saw a man outside bending over something on the ground. When he looked up I was astonished to see my brother.’

  The Coroner: ‘Before you saw who it was, what did you expect?’

  Witness: ‘I hardly know – it all happened so quickly. I thought it was burglars, I think.’

  The Coroner: ‘His grace has told us that when you saw him you cried out, “O God! you’ve killed him!” Can you tell us why you did that?’

  Witness (very pale): ‘I thought my brother must have come upon the burglar and fired at him in self-defence – that is, if I thought at all.’

  The Coroner: ‘Quite so. You knew that the Duke possessed a revolver?’

  Witness: ‘Oh yes – I think so.’

  The Coroner: ‘What did you do next?’

  Witness: ‘My brother sent me up to get help. I knocked up Mr Arbuthnot and Mr and Mrs Pettigrew-Robinson. Then I suddenly felt very faint, and went back to my bedroom and took some sal volatile.’

  The Coroner: ‘Alone?’

  Witness: ‘Yes, everybody was running about and calling out. I couldn’t bear it – I–’

  Here the witness, who up till this moment had given her evidence very collectedly, though in a low voice, collapsed suddenly, and had to be assisted from the room.

  The next witness called was James Fleming, the man-servant. He remembered having
brought the letters from Riddlesdale at 9.45 on Wednesday evening. He had taken three or four letters to the Duke in the gun-room. He could not remember at all whether one of them had had an Egyptian stamp. He did not collect stamps; his hobby was autographs.

  The Hon. Frederick Arbuthnot then gave evidence. He had gone up to bed with the rest at a little before ten. He had heard Denver come up by himself some time later – couldn’t say how much later – he was brushing his teeth at the time. (Laughter.) Had certainly heard loud voices and a row going on next door and in the passage. Had heard somebody go for the stairs hell-for-leather. Had stuck his head out and seen Denver in the passage. Had said, ‘Hello, Denver, what’s the row?’ The Duke’s reply had been inaudible. Denver had bolted into his bedroom and shouted out of the window, ‘Don’t be an ass, man!’ He had seemed very angry indeed, but the Hon. Freddy attached no importance to that. One was always getting across Denver, but it never came to anything. More dust than kick in his opinion. Hadn’t known Cathcart long – always found him all right – no, he didn’t like Cathcart, but he was all right, you know, nothing wrong about him that he knew of. Good lord, no, he’d never heard it suggested he cheated at cards! Well, no, of course, he didn’t go about looking out for people cheating at cards – it wasn’t a thing one expected. He’d been had that way in a club at Monte once – he’d had no hand in bringing it to light – hadn’t noticed anything till the fun began. Had not noticed anything particular in Cathcart’s manner to Lady Mary, or hers to him. Didn’t suppose he ever would notice anything; did not consider himself an observing sort of man. Was not interfering by nature; had thought Wednesday evening’s dust-up none of his business. Had gone to bed and to sleep.

  The Coroner: ‘Did you hear anything further that night?’

  Hon. Frederick: ‘Not till poor little Mary knocked me up. Then I toddled down and found Denver in the conservatory, bathing Cathcart’s head. We thought we ought to clean the gravel and mud off his face, you know.’

  The Coroner: ‘You heard no shot?’