BOOK I
CHAPTER I
It was about five o'clock when Mr Hackett returned to the Nelson's Head, in Tithebarn Street, and informed the reception clerk, as he passed in, that he would be staying the night, and might possibly require his room for a day or two longer.
He had arrived in Liverpool at midday, and had gone straight to this hotel, where he was accustomed to put up, but had then been uncertain whether he would be staying for more than a few hours.
The clerk observed that Mr Hackett was in exceptionally good spirits, joking with him as he signed the book. He was half-way along the corridor that led to the commercial room before the clerk remembered the telegram that had been delivered half an hour earlier.
"Mr Hackett," he called, "there's a wire for you, sir."
Mr Hackett came back, tore off the envelope, and read the telegram with an evident annoyance.
He began, "I shan't want that room after all. . . Oh, I don't know."
He stood uncertain, looking aggrieved rather than troubled, and then went on to the commercial room.
While he waited for the meal he had ordered he read the telegram again, muttering angrily, and then threw it into the empty grate.
When he had finished the meal he wrote a letter which he addressed to Mrs Bruton Hackett, The Firs, Holyhead Road, West Bromwich, and which he gave to the boots to post. Then he went out to spend the evening at His Majesty's Theatre, and to be mildly amused by a provincial revival of The Lyons Mail.
After he left the commercial room the waiter, being without occupation (for it was the August Bank Holiday week, and the hotel was almost empty), took the telegram from the grate and read this:
Come back at once I am much worse since you left this morning.
BELLE
The next morning Mr Hackett got up rather late. He came down to breakfast at 9.45. He found two letters beside his plate, and, having read these with some care, he asked for his bill, saying that he had decided to leave that morning, and would catch the 10.40 for Birmingham, but might be back in a day or two, and any letter that might come in his absence was to be kept till they heard further from him.
Half an hour after he had gone another telegram arrived at the hotel, which said:
But this telegram never came into his hands, and was first read by Inspector Taverton when he called a few days later to inquire concerning Mr Hackett's movements, and, in particular, whether it was quite certain that he had actually spent the night of Thursday, August 8, in the hotel bedroom which he had booked for that purpose.
CHAPTER II
IT would be easy to follow Mr. Hackett to his home in Holyhead Road; to hear his conversation with Rose Dorling, the 'lady help' who, in addition to a variety of household duties, had the care of his two young children; to overlook the interview with his dying wife; to observe the subsequent conversation - or shall we call it a skirmish? - with his sister-in-law, Anne; to be puzzled by the delay before he 'phoned Dr. Riggett in response to the urgent message which had been awaiting his return; to overhear a dozen subsequent conversations, which might elucidate or confuse; but if we are to judge this case with open minds, if we are to do justice to coroner, to police-inspector, to principals and witnesses, even to the jury themselves, it is the fairer way to enter the dingy court as they entered it, knowing scarcely more than we know, and hearing the coroner's admonition to put such gossip from their minds, and to be guided in their verdict as to the cause of the death of Mrs. Arabella Hackett solely by the evidence which would be put before them.
"I am afraid, ladies and gentlemen," he added, "that it will be impossible to conclude the inquiry today. We have a number of witnesses to hear, for which purpose I propose to sit today and as late as may be necessary tomorrow, but the circumstances are such that it has been considered advisable that there should be an analysis of certain organs, and without in any way prejudging the evidence which we are about to hear, I am sure that you will agree with me, and that it will be the wish of the relatives themselves that you should have the report of that analysis before you when your verdict is given. . . . Our first witness will be Dr. Riggett."
But at this point the coroner's officer whispered to him that the doctor had telephoned that he had been delayed at the local hospital, and though he was now coming over to the court, it would be three or four minutes before he could arrive.
"If it's not more than that I think I will wait," was the coroner's answer. "I should like this evidence first."
. . . So we have three minutes (or it may be four) to glance round the court and observe those on whom the pitiless searchlight of the law is about to fall, and those also who are waiting to strike, if it should pause to indicate a victim among them.
The coroner, Aldwyn Bradson, of Collett, Bradson, and Collett, is an elderly man, with a rather long, grizzled beard. You would say he is probably sixty, but scarcely looking his age. He is, in fact, sixty-eight. He is a sound lawyer and a fair-minded man, logical, impartial, even kindly in a cold-blooded way. He will be patient and diligent in his search for facts, very capable, and, if necessary, quite pitiless in his presentation of them to the jury, when the time arrives for the summing-up.
He has been coroner for thirty years, and has supported the dignity of his office, and his own reputation, for that period without lapse or scandal.
On the whole, a man that the innocent should trust, and the guilty fear.
We can leave the jury without more than a passing glance. They are like all juries, looking ill-dressed and self-conscious, and having a freakish aspect, being taken suddenly from their familiar settings. The jury really does not count very much here. A coroner's court does not require a unanimous, but only a majority verdict. When the time arrives Mr. Bradson is probably capable of obtaining from them the verdict which the case, in his judgment, will require.
There are five witnesses to be called after Dr. Riggett.
There is James Bruton Hackett, the husband of the dead woman, a dark, rather heavily built man, of about thirty-five years, and sitting next to him on his left there is her sister, Anne Bickerton, with a pale, quiet face, looking very white in contrast to the black she wears.
On James Hackett's right sits his lawyer, Duff-Preedy.
Under a manner which is as gravely alert, sympathetic, and reassuring as he can make it, he is inwardly in excellent spirits at being retained in a case which he anticipates (it might be unfair to say 'hopes') will be of a dramatic celebrity.
On this other side is the fourth witness, the 'lady help,' Rose Dorling, a fair-haired girl, looking grave and anxious enough, but with a glance for James, when their eyes met, which caused Duff-Preedy to lean a little forward, so that it might be intercepted as quickly as possible and (he hoped) escape the notice of the jury (which would be unfortunate), or of the coroner (which might be much more so).
It is by his contriving that he sits thus between Miss Dorling and her employer. There might be certain facts which could not be concealed, which it might be best to admit with an aspect of unfearing frankness, but that was no reason why the jury should have opportunities of observation, which may be so much more convincing than the spoken word, especially to unimaginative minds.
Next beyond Miss Dorling there is the ponderous, blue-jowled form of Russell-Welch, K.C., ready to cross-examine on behalf of the police such witnesses as the coroner may call, showing that the Home Office is stirring, though it may take no decisive step till the present inquiry is concluded. Beside him is Chief Inspector Taverton, whose presence also shows that the Chief Constable has called on the resources of Scotland Yard.
The fifth witness is Mr. Price Glasbrook, a public analyst from Birmingham, who will have evidence to give which is of decisive importance, though it may not occupy the court for more than two or three minutes.
There will be another witness, Dr. Thomas Elgood, who like Dr. Riggett, has not yet reached the court.
The reporters present have overflowed their allotted table, and the public have crowded in so thickly that it is requiring the energetic piloting of two uniformed constables to clear the way for Dr. Riggett - who has just arrived - to reach the witness-box on the right hand of the coroner.
The doctor having been sworn in the usual way, the coroner proceeded to elicit evidence, with the nature of which he was himself already familiar, by a series of questions which continued for some time without interruption even from Mr. Russell-Welch. The K.C. took notes with some diligence, glancing up between then at the little doctor with shrewd, penetrating eyes under heavy blows, or engaging in hurried whisperings with the Chief Inspector, or with the solicitor from whom he had received his instructions, and who was seated behind him.
It will be necessary to follow the doctor's evidence rather closely.
"I think, Dr. Riggett," the coroner commenced, "that I am correct in stating that it was about nine o'clock on the morning of August the 8th - of the 8th instant - that you were first summoned to attend Mrs. Hackett?"
"Yes - that is, on this occasion. I had attended her previously."
"At what interval?"
"My last visit had been in January of this year."
"So far as you know, she had not been ill in the meantime?"
"I believe that she had consulted Dr. Elgood during that interval."
"Well, we shall have Dr. Elgood's own account of that. . . . At what hour did you first see Mrs. Hackett on this occasion?"
"About twelve - or possibly a few minutes later."
"Then may the jury understand that the first summons was not of a very urgent character?"
For the first time the doctor hesitated for a second before he replied.
"I should not like to imply that it was not urgently worded . . . I did not regard it as of so pressing a nature that I should take it out of its place on my round. . . . I had other calls that morning which were at least equally serious."
"I am not questioning your discretion, Dr. Riggett," the coroner answered soothingly; "I am only trying to place the facts as accurately as is possible before the jury, because in a case of this kind it is difficult to say in advance that any one, however trivial it may seem, may not ultimately prove important. . . . Can you say from whom the summons was received, and how it was worded? Did you take it personally?"
"It was from Miss Bickerton. My wife took it, and repeated it to me as it came over the 'phone. I was at breakfast at the time. It said that Mrs. Hackett was in bed with an attack of muscular rheumatism. She was also unable to eat, and in very severe pain from an attack of what was suggested to be gastric catarrh. I replied that I would be round as early as possible."
"Was any further message received?"
"I believe that Miss Bickerton rang up twice again in the interval before I called."
"Will you tell the jury in non-technical language how you found the patient when you called at midday, and what opinion you formed on that occasion?"
"I formed the opinion that there was nothing seriously wrong. The pulse was rather rapid, but the temperature was normal. There was an absence of disquieting symptoms of any serious kind. I learned from Miss Bickerton that Mr. Hackett had insisted on leaving for a business journey, although his wife had protected that she was too ill to be left, and that she had refused food since his departure that morning."
"Then you formed the opinion that she was not dangerously ill at that time?"
"Yes, I did."
"Have you since altered or modified that opinion in the light of subsequent events?"
"No, I cannot say that I have."
"Did you tell Mrs. Hackett that you did not regard her illness seriously?"
"No. I prescribed rest and light food. I have a prescription for a tonic, and promised to look in again in the evening.
"Did you say anything to Miss Bickerton before leaving?"
"Yes. I saw her downstairs, and reassured her as to her sister's condition."
"Reassured her? Then you had formed the opinion that she was unduly anxious? . . . Can you recollect your conversation with her on that occasion?"
The doctor paused again, and then said, with a careful precision:
"I am anxious not to confuse what I may have said or thought on that occasion with any event which occurred subsequently. . . . Of course, I did not regard the matter then as having any-special importance. . . . I think I was aware of a certain tension in the atmosphere of the house. . . . It is a condition which we medical men must often observe, and of which we must appear unconscious unless our attention is directed to it by those who have called us in. . . . I had gained the impression that Miss Bickerton was half in a somewhat emotional state, and that she was over-anxious - genuinely anxious - about her sister's condition. I think I tried to reassure her. I remember that I said that I would give a sleeping-draught when I came in the evening if it should seem desirable, but that it might be avoided if she could keep her patient quiet and get her to take some food. She asked what she might have, and I said anything she fancied which may be taken to show that I had satisfied myself that there was no gastric disorder at that time."
"After that will you tell us the course of events in your own words?"
"I was called out after lunch to a confinement case, and did not get back till nearly six o'clock. I then learned that Miss Bickerton had telephoned for me again during the early part of the afternoon. I called about 6.20 P. M. and saw Mrs. Hackett, who appeared to be in a similar condition to that of the morning, but more agitated. There was some rise in temperature, but not more than might have been anticipated at that hour.
"She told me that she had taken no food since the morning, which her sister afterwards confirmed. The tonic which I had prescribed had been made up, but had not been taken. I was told in explanation that it had only just come from the chemist's, which I subsequently learned was untrue."
"But it had not been taken?"
"No. It was still full at the time of Mrs. Hackett's death."
"Did you understand that she had taken no nourishment at all?"
"She had water beside her bed, of which I understood that she drank freely. Her sister told me that she had had a cup of tea during the afternoon."
"If at that time she had taken anything of a harmful nature - in plain words, if she had taken poison at that time - there was no development of any adverse symptoms which your skill could detect?"
"No. Not at that time."
"Did she appear to be alarmed at her own condition?"
"It is not easy to answer that. She was anxious that I should say that she was so seriously ill that her husband ought to be summoned home. She asked me to write to him myself to that effect, which I declined. She told me that she had wired for his return, and she was then writing a letter to the same purpose. She asked me several times whether I thought she were dying."
"And, in spite of that, you remained of the opinion that there was nothing seriously wrong?"
"Yes. I thought she was shamming."
"And will you tell the jury what opinion you have since formed, in the light of subsequent events, as to what her condition then was - I mean at the time of this second visit, as distinct from that of the first?"
"I still think she was shamming."
"Even though it should subsequently appear that she had actually taken a fatal dose of poison at that time? You would still be of that opinion?"
"Yes, certainly. On the assumption you mention the poison had not had any adverse physical effects at that time."
"Supposing - the jury will understand that it is no more than a hypothesis - that such a dose had been taken, was not her anxiety as to her condition, and her repeated questions as to whether she were about to die, consistent with her knowledge or suspicion of such a circumstance?"
"No, I don't think so. I don't think she was in any real anxiety. I regarded it merely as a pose to attract attention and sympathy."
"Do you think she was of a temperament, or was at that time in an abnormal condition, such as might incline her to the taking of her own life?"
Dr. Riggett paused for a long moment, and then said with deliberation, "No, I feel sure she was not. "
Mr. Duff-Preedy interposed. "Would it surprise you, Doctor, to know that she had threatened to take her life many times - that this tendency or obsession was common knowledge among her relatives and friends?"
The doctor thought again, and said with the same deliberation, "No, not at all. "
Mr. Duff-Preedy, an adroit man in the finessing of evidence sat down at once when he had obtained this answer, but the coroner said, "I don't want us to get upon ground which is better discussed, if at all, when the whole of the evidence is before us, but I think it may be well for you to reconcile those two replies, Doctor, in a way that will be clear to the lay mind."
"I think, sir," the doctor answered, "that any psychologist would accept my replies as consistent with, or even complementary to, each other. Many people talk of committing suicide at one time or another, and there may or may not be any serious purpose behind the words. Usually there is none. But of all people those who talk frequently of taking such a step are the least likely to do it. That is what would be expected on psychological grounds, and it is borne out by general experience."
"Very well," said the coroner, "then I will ask you one further question before you go forward to the events of the next day. Was Mrs. Hackett in such a physical condition that afternoon that she could have gone downstairs and returned to her own room without the assistance or knowledge of those who were in the house with her?"
"That is another question which is difficult to answer in a word. I should say that the muscular rheumatism of which she had first complained when she took to her bed had a real physical basis - it was an affection of which she had severe intermittent attacks, for which I had prescribed for her previously - and that its natural effect would be to make the passage of stairs a slow and somewhat painful process, but it was certainly possible; under a sufficient nervous stimulus, such as an alarm of fire, she would have done it quite easily. But she was professing to be incapable of rising at all. I should say that she was theoretically capable of such exertion, that it was doubtful how far she was aware of having this capacity, and that it was exceedingly improbable that she would have made such an attempt."
"But you cannot entirely exclude such a possibility?"
"Not in theory. Actually I am quite sure that it did not happen."
Mr. Duff-Preedy rose again. "But, if I may suggest such a distinction, it would not be inaccurate to say that, as a medical man - as an expert - you say it was possible; it is only as a personal opinion that you discredit such a consideration."
"Yes," the doctor replied, "you may put it that way if you like."
"And after that, Doctor?" said the coroner.
"I was summoned again during the night. About three o'clock Miss Bickerton rang me up, and I must own that I was reluctant to go. I had had a very tiring day, and I thought that there was probably being called up for no adequate reason. I said I would look in during the morning. Then there was another voice - that of Miss Dorling, as I afterwards learned - saying that Mrs. Hackett was really seriously ill. She had been violently sick, and they were alarmed by her condition. I got up and went round at once."
"How soon were you there?"
"Within ten minutes. I walked round, as the houses are not more than three minutes apart. I found Dr. Elgood's car at the door, and hesitated whether to go in, but I thought I had better have a word with him, as I had been called. When I went in he asked me to stay."
"What was Mrs. Hackett's condition at that time?"
"On consultation with Dr. Elgood we agreed that her symptoms were those of acute arsenical poisoning."
"You naturally inquired as to what food, if any, she had taken since your previous visit?"
"Yes. It appeared that she had roused her sister, who had been sleeping in the same room, about 1 A. M., saying that she felt hungry, and asking her to cook a meal for her. Miss Bickerton told me that she had gone down to the kitchen and fried a chop, and served it with some potatoes which had been previously cooked, and which she warmed. Her sister had only eaten a few mouthfuls when she was violently sick, and other symptoms which are indicative of arsenical poisoning rapidly developed."
"In your opinion could these symptoms have been caused by anything in the meal which she had commenced to eat?"
"No. The symptoms are such as would be caused by the taking of food some hours after a dose - probably a large dose - of arsenic had been swallowed."
"Did you make any inquiries as to how such a dose might have been taken, either accidentally or otherwise?"
"Yes. In conjunction with Dr. Elgood I made very close inquiries as to such possibilities. Miss Bickerton appeared certain that she had had nothing during the day
except water, and the cup of tea which she herself had made during the afternoon. We asked to see both the cup and the pot in which the tea had been made."
"Were they readily produced?"
Again the doctor paused for a moment, as though to choose his words, before he replied:
"I think Miss Bickerton thought that they would have been washed, and that it would be useless to make any inquiry about them."
Russell-Welch, K.C., interposed for the first time.
"If I may suggest it, Mr. Coroner, it might be better for the witness to tell us what Miss Bickerton said and did - or declined to do - instead of what he thinks she thought."
His heavy figure half rose from his seat as he spoke, and subsided again before the sentence was finished. His manner was faintly contemptuous in a good-humoured, sardonic way. He had made no imputation upon Miss Bickerton, but it was as though the searchlight of the law had passed over her, and had paused for one sinister instant upon her head.
For the first time the jury looked on her curiously. The general gaze of the court was directed upon her. She must have had some consciousness of this, for a faint colour rose in the whiteness of her face, though she did not move or look up.
Mr. Bradson might have liked to say that he was quite capable of directing the evidence of witnesses without the assistance of the K.C., but he was far too capable a man to let any sign of annoyance appear as he answered:
"I think Dr. Riggett's meaning was clear, though the phraseology may not have been exactly that which would have been selected by a legal mind. Go on, Doctor, please."
"As we were not satisfied to leave it in doubt, Dr. Elgood and myself went down to the kitchen together. We found that the teapot had been washed, but the cup and saucer and spoon had been put on a shelf with other unwashed crockery. The cup was not quite empty."
"How were you able to know that it was the actual cup which had been taken to Mrs. Hackett's room?"
"Miss Bickerton identified it."
"And I think you took possession of these articles, and they have since been in the hands of the public analyst?"
"Yes."
The coroner turned to the jury to explain that the evidence of the analyst would be brought before them.
Dr. Riggett went on to narrate how he had spoken to Mr. Hackett on the telephone about 3 P. M., and had obtained his consent to the calling in of a specialist from Birmingham. He gave the further medical experience of the case up to the time when Mrs. Hackett, having become steadily worse in spite of all that could be done, had died about midnight.
Dr. Elgood had agreed that it would be impossible for either of them to sign a death-certificate, and he had reported the matter to the coroner accordingly.
Neither Mr. Russell-Welch nor Mr. Duff-Preedy desired to ask the doctor any questions at this stage, though the latter gentleman said he might have to ask the coroner to recall him later, and he left the box.
As Dr. Elgood was still absent, the evidence of Price Glasbrook, the analyst, was interposed at this point. It was brief, definite, and unchallenged. The dregs of tea in the cup had shown arsenious oxide to be present in such quantity that a cupful of tea of a similar composition must have contained from four to five times such a dose as is usually fatal. There were also traces of powdered weed-killer on the spoon, appearing to show the form in which the poison had been introduced.
"Do you mean," the coroner asked, "that the spoon was dry? Could these grains have remained clinging to the spoon after it had been used to stir the tea?"
"No. The spoon had not been in any liquid since it had been in contact with the powder which I found upon it."
"You are sure of that?"
"Oh, yes. Quite."
Again there were no questions asked by the legal gentlemen present.
The coroner now addressed Mr. Duff-Preedy. "I understand that you appear for the relatives of the deceased, and also for Miss Dorling, and that they desire to give evidence. I need scarcely say that I shall welcome all the assistance which they can give to the court, but I am sure that you will appreciate the serious nature - and the possible implications - of the evidence which we have just heard. The cause of death cannot be definitely determined until the results of the post-mortem are before us, but in the meantime I think you should make it clear to your clients that none of them is under obligation to give evidence unless he or she elects to do so."
Mr. Duff-Preedy did not consult any of his clients on receiving this hint. Probably it was a matter which had been discussed already.
He rose at once, saying, "I fully appreciate the position Mr. Coroner, and thank you for what you have said. But my clients wish to assist the court to the full extent of their ability. They are most anxious that the doubt - or mystery - of the case should be cleared up, and they will be glad to give evidence."
The coroner only nodded in reply. He did not exclude other possibilities, but it appeared almost certain that there was a poisoner among the three, and there might be guilty knowledge or connivance on the part of one or both of the others. He expected that if they all three entered the witness-box he would know where the guilt lay before they left it. But it was Mr. Preedy's responsibility, and it was the best course in the interests of justice, though less certainly so in those of his own clients.
His impassive face gave no sign of his thoughts, but Russell-Welch glanced up at Duff-Preedy with an expression of admiration, wonder, and puzzlement, which was noticed by some of the jury, and did much to discount the effect of the solicitor's attitude.
"Very well," said the coroner; "then it may be convenient if I call the witnesses in this order; Mr. Hackett first, then Miss Dorling, and then Miss Bickerton; after which Inspector Taverton will give his evidence, that of Dr. Elgood being interposed when he may be able to reach the court conveniently. I understand that it is very difficult for him to attend today, and I am letting him know that I can excuse him, if necessary, until tomorrow."
. . . Mr. Bruton Hackett entered the witness-box.
CHAPTER III
THE examination of Mr. Hackett was first undertaken by the coroner himself, as is the common practice at these inquiries.
He said that his name was James Bruton Hackett, that he was thirty-six years old, and had been married nearly seven years. He had two children - a boy and a girl. He was an engineer by profession, specializing in bridge-construction. For the past eighteen months he had been occupied as the commercial representative of the Lepard-Watts Construction Company, and it was on their business that he had gone to Liverpool on the day of his wife's illness.
So far the witness's answers had been readily and clearly given, though his manner had already impressed the spectators somewhat unfavourably. He appeared to be ill at ease, and he spoke without lifting his eyes and with the aspect of one who, if not conscious of any actual guilt, was ashamed or embarrassed by the ordeal through which he was passing.
From this point the examination proceeded:
"When you left home on the Thursday morning, it has been suggested, Mrs. Hackett had expressed a feeling that she was too ill to be left, and had asked you to stay with her."
"She was always like that."
"Do you mean that she was always afraid to be left?"
"She used to say so."
"Did you think she was afraid of others, or of anything that she might do to herself?"
"I didn't think either."
"Had you heard her threaten to take her own life?"
"Yes."
"Often?"
"About twice a week."
"When was the last occasion?"
"Oh, I don't know. It might have been that morning. She was always saying it."
"Mr. Hackett," the coroner said, with some severity, "you must please take my questions more seriously. You can surely recollect if there were such a conversation before you left."
The witness did not respond to this rebuke or lift his eyes as he answered:
"Well, then, no. I shouldn't say that she did."
"Had you any special reason for thinking that she might be likely to take her life at this time? Please answer carefully."
"Nothing particular."
"Never mind whether it was anything particular. Had you any reason at all?"
"Well, it must have been she or Anne, mustn't it?"
There was a murmur of excitement in the court at this startling answer, which died away as the coroner glanced round with severity.
Miss Bickerton raised her eyes to the witness, and her face flushed angrily.
Mr. Duff-Preedy, who had been making notes somewhat voluminously as the examination proceeded, allowed himself no expression whatever.
Russell-Welch, making notes also, but confining them to an occasional word or a cryptic sign which would be meaningless except to himself, surveyed the witness, with a pleasure of anticipation, as something come to life such as a K.C. can only hope to meet in his dreams.
The coroner, having obtained the silence which he considered that the dignity of his court required, addressed the witness again:
"Mr. Hackett, I must ask you once more to direct your mind to the questions I ask, and to answer them with the intelligence which I am sure you have. I did not ask you to speculate who might or might not have poisoned your wife. In strict fact, until we have the result of the autopsy we have no proof that she was poisoned at all. I have asked you twice, and I ask again, whether you had any reason to think that your wife might attempt to take her life during your absence on this occasion. I must warn you that you are doing yourself no good by the way in which you are answering."
"I'm not trying to do myself any good."
"Answer the question."
"Then I'll say no."
"Were you on good terms with your wife when you left that morning?"
"Well, she didn't want me to go."
"That may be. But such a wish might arise from various motives. I am asking you to say - and I urge you in your own interest to answer this with care and frankness - whether there was no dissension between your wife and yourself on that occasion?"
"There was nothing worth talking about. There was always something or other."
The coroner paused, considering the witness, while he stroked his beard.
Surprisingly he let the point drop, or appeared to do so.
"During the afternoon you received a telegram from your wife. Did you keep it?"
"No."
"Well, we have the original. Did it not say, 'Come back at once I am much worse since you left. Belle'?"
"Yes, I expect it did."
"What did you do when you received that telegram?"
"I didn't believe it. . . . I wrote to say that I'd be back as soon as I could."
"Why didn't you believe it?"
"I'd had some before."
"Is this the letter you wrote?"
The witness took the note which the coroner passed to him, and handed it back with scarcely a glance.
"Yes, that's it."
The coroner read it aloud:
"DEAR BELLE,
"I'm sorry you're so unwell. I've got to stay here a day or two I'm not sure how long yet - but I'll be back as soon as I can. I've got a chance of an order that I can't leave.
"Give my love to Anne, and ask her to stay with you if she can till I get back.
"Love as ever,
"JAMES"
"After writing that letter you stayed the night, but in the morning you came back. Why was that? Was your business concluded?"
"No. But I had letters in the morning."
"Can you produce them?"
"No. I burned them."
"Who were they from?"
"My wife and Miss Bickerton."
"I have something here which appears to be a draft of your wife's letter. Will you read it and say whether it is substantially the letter which you received?"
The coroner handed him a sheet of paper which had been torn across, and on which pencilled words had been erased and altered. The writing, however, was still clearly legible.
It read:
DEAREST JAMES,
I'm sorry about this morning, but I'm really dreadfully poorly and can't eat anything. The pain's like a knife.
Do come home when you get this. You know I can't sleep when you're away. I should think you'd see that business can't matter when I'm so ill. I think a wife ought to come first.
I want you to give Rose notice when you come back. I'm too nervous after what's happened, and if you do it she'll know you didn't mean anything. But I should like to be there.
Your own
BELLE
James Hackett read this over, and handed it back with the words, "That's about it."
"And do you mean to say that the wire of the day before had no effect, but that you were induced to return at once by reading this letter?"
"I've told you I had two letters. . . . Here, you'd better see the other, as you've got that."
He pulled a handful of soiled papers from his jacket-pocket, searched among them, and passed one to the coroner, who was roused for once from his usual cold urbanity.
"Do you mean that this is the letter which you swore that you had burned not five minutes ago?"
"Well, I didn't want them read. I wasn't likely to. They're no one's business but mine."
"You had better give me your wife's letter."
"I can't do that. It's burned."
"Mr. Hackett, I must give you a final warning that the consequences of perjury may be serious - very serious indeed. There is also such a thing as being committed for contempt of court. I direct you to produce the other letter without further evasion."
"I can't do that. It's burned. It really is."
"Mr. Preedy, I'm sorry to have to say that the first witness you have offered me is not of a character which enables me to believe anything he says. . . . I presume that this really is Miss Bickerton's letter."
The coroner proceeded to read it in silence, but looked up sharply as James Hackett, hoping that his ordeal was over, was leaving the box. "No, don 't go yet . . . I think I had better read this:
"DEAR JAMES (he read),
"I sent you a telegram from Belle this afternoon, and hope you may now be on the way back, but I'm writing this in case you have not come.
"I want you to know that Belle is really ill, and I think it was most cruel of you to go as you did. Dr. Elgood has been here this afternoon, and Dr. Riggett has been in since, but they don't seem able to do much. Belle is in an absolutely distracted state, and if you don't come back at once I can't say what may happen.
"I don't think it's fair to leave me with her like this.
"If you had any decency you'd know how intolerable it must be, with Rose's insolence on the top of everything else. Of course, I'm not speaking to her. I think that Belle has behaved splendidly, and I think she'd overlook it now if you came back at once and turned her out of the house, as you know you ought.
"If you don't come back in the morning I won't be responsible for anything that may happen. The business can't be so important. You know you never really do anything worth while.
"ANNE"
The coroner read this letter carefully and slowly, and then turned to the witness, who may have already regretted the sullen impulse which had caused him to produce it.
"Do you still say, after hearing these letters read, that you had had no serious difference with your wife before leaving, nor any special reason for anxiety concerning her?"
"Well, I came back. . . . It was just women's fuss."
"Is it 'women's fuss,'" the coroner asked, with an unusual sternness in his voice, "that your wife is dead?"
"I wasn't talking about that."
The coroner looked reflectively at his notes, then at the flushed and sullen face of the witness. He turned to Mr. Russell-Welch.
"Have you any questions to ask?"
The barrister, who had been engaged in a whispered conversation with Inspector Taverton, said that he had.
He took a glance at his notes, and rose with a heavy deliberation.
"Mr. Hackett," he said slowly, and with an emphasis which gave an importance to the query which the words would not otherwise have conveyed, "how do you live?"
Mr. Duff-Preedy rose at once. He had watched while his client made a fool of himself to the coroner, ready to interpose at any moment, but seeing no opportunity when he might not have made matters worse rather than better His time would come.
But he had no intention of letting the K.C. have a clear run. It is only on such occasions as these that a solicitor who has a good practice and reputation in the magistrates' and county courts can cross swords with a K.C. on an equal footing.
"Mr. Hackett," he said quietly, "has already given that information."
The coroner confirmed this, with a glance at his notes.
"He stated that he is an engineer, and is employed by the Lepard-Watts Construction Company as a commercial representative. Do you challenge that statement?"
Mr. Russell-Welch shook his head. "Oh, no. We know that that is quite true. But I should just like him to give some account of his financial position in his own way."
"Very well," said the coroner, "if you think it will assist our inquiry."
Mr. Russell-Welch repeated his question, but the witness made no answer.
The barrister showed no annoyance, nor did he press for a reply. He said, "Perhaps I had better be more explicit. Just tell the court the amount of the salary which you have received during the last twelve months."
"You know I've not had any salary."
"Never mind what I know. You've had no salary. Have you had any allowance for travelling expenses?"
"No. I didn't want to be paid in that way."
"No? Now will you tell the court as exactly as possible what commission you have received during this period?"
"I haven't had any yet. It was the arrangement I proposed myself - - "
"Oh, yes? No salary. No expenses. No commission And that has gone on for twelve months - or longer?"
"Yes, but in our business - - "
"Never mind the explanations just yet. I've no doubt my friend Mr. Duff-Preedy will help to put these matters in the best light he can when his turn comes. All I want is the facts. What other source of income have you had during the last year?"
"I haven't had any other income."
"I see. No salary. No expenses. No commission. No other source of income. . . . Now just tell the court who kept your home, and where you got the money from to go travelling on that Thursday morning when your wife said she was too ill to be left."
"My wife had plenty of money. I drew some from the bank the afternoon before."
"From your wife's account?"
"We had the same account. We could both draw on it."
"You mean you could draw on hers. She put all the money in, but you drew most of it out?"
"No, I didn't."
"Well, we may have to look into that. . . . Anyway, you went off with her money in your pocket on this holiday week, because it was so urgent to do some business for the firm that valued your services so highly that it never paid you at all. . . . Are orders for bridge-construction particularly easy to get in that week of the year? Did you really do any business at all?"
For the first time James Hackett lifted his eyes and looked straight at his tormentor. He said, "No, I got no orders at all."
He seemed to take an actual pleasure in the reply, so that Russell-Welch, who had one of the shrewdest intellects at the Bar, had an instinctive apprehension of something in his mind which he could not reach, and with habitual caution of the unknown he changed the subject of the next question.
"Can you tell the court how you will be affected financially by your wife's death?"
"It won't make much difference one way or other."
"How is that, if you and your children have been supported by her entirely? Do you suppose that you inherit all that she left?"
"If you want to know, she has left most of it in trust for the children, as I asked her to do."
"Don't answer like that. I don't want to know. I know as much as you, and perhaps more. I want you to tell the court. Your wife made wills rather frequently, didn't she?"
"Yes. She liked making wills. The last was about three months ago. I've told you what's in it. Mr. Preedy 's got it, if you want to see what it says."
"Then you don't know that your wife made a will a week before she died?"
"No, I don't; and I don't believe it. She wouldn't have done that without telling me."
He was plainly startled, and looked at Mr. Duff-Preedy, as though asking him to confirm or deny it.
That gentleman rose, and said, "I have a will dated May the 3rd last, which is substantially as Mr. Hackett has said, and which I am about to prove. Mrs. Hackett did change her mind rather frequently, and seemed to enjoy executing these documents, but I should think it very unlikely that she would have made a later one without my knowledge."
Mr. Russell-Welch turned to the coroner, and said with the full deliberation which he reserved for the dramatic moments which he knew so well how to develop:
"My instructions are that Mrs. Hackett executed a will on August the 7th - the 7th instant - at the offices of Messrs. Ashton and Cross, leaving all her property absolutely to her sister, Anne Bickerton, and that Miss Bickerton was present when the will was signed. I propose, with your permission, Mr. Coroner, to call Mr. Tomkinson, of that firm, to give evidence as to the facts, and to produce the document."
He sat down, having said this, without another glance at the witness. He bent forward across the front of Miss Dorling's slim figure to whisper audibly, "I shouldn't waste any money proving that will, Preedy, if I were you."
He was satisfied that James Hackett had not been aware of the existence of the latest will, which had been the point he had been anxious to ascertain.
Inspector Taverton made a remark to him which Miss Dorling (whose ears were good, and whose quietness had absorbed and would retain almost every word of the morning's drama) failed to hear entirely, though she understood that it was in disparagement of the witness, who stood uncertain whether he might at last retire from his uncomfortable publicity; but she heard the reply, "Oh, I wouldn't say that - he's straighter than most." And then she was aware that the coroner, who had been engaged for a long minute on his notes, looked up to ask, "No more questions, Mr. Russell-Welch?"
The K.C. shook his head. "It's your turn," he said to Mr. Preedy, with the geniality which his opponents had learned to dread.
For once Mr. Duff-Preedy felt scarcely ready. But his adroitness did not fail him.
"There are a few questions that I should like to put to Mr. Hackett, if you will kindly allow him to be re-called after the luncheon interval, Mr. Coroner."
The coroner took the hint. He observed that it was already ten minutes after one. He adjourned the court for forty-five minutes.
CHAPTER IV
MR. DUFF-PREEDY'S mind was accustomed to work at high pressure when its owner called upon it for such exertions, but it was seldom required to perform such a feat of intellectual agility as on this occasion, between the time when he filed with his three clients - two before and one behind him - out of the row of seats they had occupied, and the moment when he halted at the top of the five stone steps that descended to the pavement of the West Bromwich High Street.
He had already calculated that, unless the jury should deliver a verdict of suicide, which he thought unlikely - and we must remember that he had the advantage of having prepared the evidence of both Miss Bickerton and Miss Dorling, which we have yet to hear, and that he knew a good deal also of the nature of the investigations that Inspector Taverton had been making - their minds would be directed almost inevitably to a verdict of wilful murder against one or other of his clients, and he was inclining to the opinion that it was one of the ladies who would be required to defend herself from this accusation. Up to ten minutes ago he had regarded Miss Dorling (for reasons which have as yet been only partially indicated) as the more likely to be the defendant in the trial which he foresaw, but he recognized that this tale of the new will (of the truth of which he had little doubt), while it did not directly reduce the weight of the circumstantial evidence that Miss Dorling might have to meet, did very materially increase that with which Miss Bickerton might be confronted, as it supplied a motive, which had previously seemed to be entirely lacking.
He had already felt the difficulty of jointly representing his three clients; but while he had anticipated that Miss Dorling would be nominated as the central figure for the principal act, he had not felt this difficulty to be insuperable. He had regarded James Hackett as the only one of the three with any financial resources whatever, even deferred or potential, and he had already taken the precaution of obtaining his signature to a general retainer, but if this will should stand it might be that Miss Bickerton was destined not only to be the central figure in the approaching drama, but the only one who would be able to supply the somewhat substantial funds which lawyers consider appropriate for such occasions. Yet he considered shrewdly that such a will might not stand - might at least be contested, so that its benefits would not be promptly available for the defence of one who should be accused of murdering her sister and benefactor to secure them - and he was influenced somewhat (being human) by resentment at the fact that Miss Bickerton had not informed him of its existence. . . .
"Mr. Hackett, "he said, pausing at the top step, "I want a few words with you about your evidence. If you'll come over to my office I'll have some sandwiches brought in. I expect the ladies will like something more comfortable. It won't matter if either of you is a bit late back - but you shouldn't be after 2.15, Miss Dorling, as I expect you'll be called next. You'll find there's nothing to worry about if you answer the questions quietly and just keep to the facts. Don't let Russell-Welch hustle you. . . . You'll find the Monitor Restaurant the best place for a quick lunch. You can get a private room upstairs, if you like."
"Oh, I'm not worrying, Mr. Preedy. We've got to go through with it, so what's the use? Of course, l'm very sorry about it all, and it's been hateful for Mr. Hackett."
Saying this, Rose Dorling turned away, with a cool and pleasant smile for the clicking cameras that confronted her as she descended the steps.
She did not wait for Miss Bickerton. The two women had ignored each other's existence as they came down the corridor, and were little likely to go anywhere to lunch together.
Miss Bickerton also answered Mr. Preedy's remark, but in a somewhat different spirit. Her voice trembled with a suppressed excitement, which might be that of anger, indignation, or fear.
"No, Mr. Preedy, I shan't be late back. If I'm to be accused of poisoning Belle to get her money I'd like to be there to hear what 's said."
"I don't think anyone has gone that far - - "
"Oh, yes, he has." She looked at James Hackett, with a dislike which she made no effort to hide. "He said if Belle hadn't committed suicide I must have poisoned her, and he knows quite well she wouldn't do that."
"Well," said Mr. Preedy, reasonably enough, "you'd better not quarrel here unless you want to see yourselves doing it in the picture papers tomorrow."
He took Mr. Hackett's arm, and hurried him through the curious crowd to the shelter of his office on the other side of the street.
CHAPTER V
MR. DUFF-PREEDY declined to talk until his guest had completed the demolition of the sandwiches which he had provided. Then he said briskly:
"Now, Mr. Hackett, we've got a clear ten minutes, and we've got to make up our minds what line we're going to take. We've got to face facts here. We knew most of them before, but we've got another now, and it gets everything into different proportions, though, of course, they mayn't be true ones.
"It mayn't be strictly proved yet, but we must take it as a fact that your wife died of arsenical poisoning, and there's no doubt as to where the poison came from.
"Anyway, the jury won't have much doubt when they've heard Miss Dorling's evidence.
"Now that means either accident or suicide or that she was poisoned by some one, and in this case 'some one' means Miss Bickerton, or Miss Dorling, or yourself."
"Me? I wasn't there."
"Well, you might have instigated it or contrived it somehow, if you weren't there. I'm mentioning everything possible. Now we can rule accident out. None of you seems to think that suicide was a likely thing. I can't say I do myself. Still, something unlikely must have happened, so we won't rule that out. We leave it in.
"Now between the two ladies it seemed to me this morning that there was very little to choose, and that they might, so to speak, save each other. If anything, the chance seemed to be against Miss Dorling, because you can make out a motive - - "
"Miss Dorling's utterly - - "
"Yes. I know. We all are. I'm only talking of what a jury might be persuaded to think. But when I went into court this morning I was aiming at an open verdict of death by poison or, at the worst, of murder, but that there was not sufficient evidence to make an accusation against anyone.
"But now it's all changed. I should say it's three to one against Miss Bickerton, whatever we do, but if you want to save her - I don't know whether you do or not - there's only one way. We've got to go all out for suicide. Unless you're willing for that, I don't think I can go on representing both her and you."
"I don't think it was suicide."
"Nor do I. But it must have been something. . . . Look here, Mr Hackett, let us have it plain. Do you want to shield Miss Bickerton if she murdered your wife?"
"I don't know what to say. I can't think that she did. Anyway, Belle wouldn't want her sister hanged. It's too late to do any good. It's a family latter. We don't want strangers interfering. That's how Belle would feel"
"Do you think that your wife would have kept to this new will if she had lived?"
"No, not a week. She'd told me the first time we were friends again, and made another next morning."
"And Miss Bickerton would know that as well as you?"
"Yes, I've no doubt she would."
"And she has no income of her own?"
"She has her salary at Tucker and Thomson's. I don't think she's got anything else."
"Well, we must go now. I shan't ask you much. You've done rather well, as it is."
"I must have looked a fool."
"You might have done worse than that. Russell-Welch let you down rather easily. I wish I knew why, though I can guess well enough."
"The man's a cad."
"Well, he was a good cad to you. He might have baited you about Miss Dorling and other things in the letters. But he's after Miss Bickerton, or so it looks to me. We shall know more when Miss Dorling has given her evidence."
They were walking over to the court as this conversation concluded, Mr Preedy asking again as they entered the building, "Are we all out for suicide, or not? If not, I'll tell Miss Bickerton to go to Ashton and Cross - she knows the way there already."
"I'll leave that to you. Whatever's happened, it's a case of the less fuss the better. Even the police ought to see that, but I suppose they're paid to make trouble."
Mr Duff-Preedy did not allow his mind to be diverted to discuss the true function of the police.
He said, "I suppose you see that if Miss Bickerton comes clear it means that the will stands? I don't say it wouldn't stand anyway. It's hard to say till we know more than we do now. But it would leave you and the children without anything."
"I wouldn't quite say that. I expect it's meant for the children, but it's to give Anne control, instead of me. . . . It's to knock out Rose, really. I can look after myself."
"Very well. I'll go for suicide. It may be the best way, all round. You mustn't be surprised at any questions I ask. Just answer them in your own way."
The coroner had already taken his seat as they turned in, and both Miss Bickerton and Miss Dorling had arrived, and were sitting some distance apart. Mr Duff-Preedy placed himself between them, and James Hackett returned to the ordeal of the witness-box.
As Mr Preedy settled himself into his place he found time to say to Miss Bickerton, in a low voice:
"I've been talking things over with Mr Hackett, and we have decided that suicide is the only possible explanation that will fit all the facts. I wish you would consider it from that point of view, before you give your own evidence. I don't suppose you'll be called till tomorrow."
Miss Bickerton answered, "It's very good of James to say that." He could not be sure whether she were sarcastic or grateful, but the coroner was looking at him, and the court was waiting.
"Mr Coroner," he said, "there have been certain questions raised about Mr Hackett's occupation and income that may not be strictly relevant to this inquiry - that is a matter for your ruling - but as they have been raised, I should like to clear up some possible misconceptions which might arise from the interrogations and answers as they now stand."
"You know, Mr Preedy," the coroner answered, "I always try to keep these inquiries within as narrow bounds as I can, bur it is impossible to say that anything which throws light on the characters and relations of a household may not prove to be relevant in such a case as the present. By all means let us have any further facts or explanations which your client can furnish."
Mr Preedy then proceeded to take his client in some detail, which we need not follow, through his professional training and business career up to the point, four years ago, when he had been offered and had accepted an appointment in Brazil, for which he had resigned a position which he then occupied.
He continued, "Why did you not take up this appointment?"
"My wife changed her mind at the last moment. She had been told that the people were not educated, and - - "
"Do you mean that the people of Brazil are not educated?" the coroner interposed in some surprise.
"It was what some silly woman told her. You know what fools women are." ("She was told by friends," the coroner translated, half aloud, as he entered it on his notes.) "Anyway, she wouldn't come, and she didn't want me to go alone."
"So you gave that up," the solicitor continued, "and after that you were offered your present appointment by the same firm. Will you tell the court why you took it on terms which may be considered somewhat unusual?"
"Because it isn't like selling cheese. I wanted to be free to pull off a big deal when I could, and I didn't want to be rowed if I didn't do anything for twelve months, nor to lose the job. Besides, I can get a bigger commission this way. And we weren't needing money in a hurry. We'd got enough to go on with."
"When you went away on this Thursday, August the 8th, was it for pleasure, or had you any definite business in prospect?"
"That's my business "
"Exactly. It was your business, not your pleasure, which would have kept you in Liverpool?"
"Yes, of course."
"Was your wife rather difficult to live with at times?"
"Off and on. I suppose all women are."
"Changeable?"
"Yes, you could reckon on that."
"Would you describe her as unbalanced?"
"No, I shouldn't say that."
"But there might be a good deal of trouble if she didn't get her own way?"
"Well, she jibbed a bit now and then."
"I think that's all, Mr Hackett," Mr Preedy concluded as he sat down, and the coroner added:
"I suppose we all like our own way. . . . But tell me this, Mr Hackett. Did you live happily with your wife as a rule? What I want to know is how far the incidents of these days may have been of an exceptional character." The witness was not quick to answer, and Mr Bradson went on, "Were your relations generally of an affectionate character?"
"Yes, of course."
"Did your wife usually make it a trouble that you should go away for a few days?"
"Well, when I got to the hotel there was usually a wire for me to go back."
"She couldn't do that, unless she knew where you would be staying?"
"Oh, yes, she could. Once she wired to every hotel in Newcastle."
"Really? I wish you would appreciate the importance of accuracy, Mr Hackett. I suppose you mean she wired to several?"
"No, I don't. She wired to every hotel in the Trade Directory."
"It must have cost a good deal."
"So it did, but she wouldn't mind that. She never counted her change."
"One thing more, Mr Hackett. It is clear from the correspondence which has been read that there had been some trouble regarding Miss Dorling, and that your wife had some feeling of jealousy in that direction. I am sorry to have to ask you, but it is necessary - had you given any serious cause for such feeling?"
"No, I don't think so. Nothing that she knew of. Nothing serious. Nothing like you think, anyway."
"Could you swear that you were fond of your wife, and that your affection had not changed?"
"Yes, you could say that."
"And that you are sincerely grieved by her death?"
"I'm not going to talk about my feelings here. "
The coroner had a moment of contemplation, stroking his beard, as his way was. He had shown no sign of being aware of the brusqueness of the witness's answers at this afternoon examination. He looked at Russell-Welch. "Any more questions? . . . Thank you, Mr Hackett, you may go now. You will please continue to attend the sittings till the inquiry is concluded. . . . I think we will take Miss Dorling's evidence next."
CHAPTER VI
THERE was a stir of freshly excited interest, in a court which had not been drowsy before, as Miss Dorling rose and made her way to the witness-stand
The eyes of all were concentrated upon her, even the reporters pausing with lifted pencils, which would be busy a moment later in describing her appearance, dress, and manners for the avid appetites of a million readers.
The Daily Catch would be particularly florid next morning. It had reason for a special flutter in the fact that its artist had succeeded in making a sketch of "Rose Dorling in the Witness-box," which was against a rule of elementary decency the coroner enforced as far as he was able, and had smuggled it out of court without detection. It said:
The next witness, Miss Rose Dorling, is a tall, fair-haired girl, who gave her evidence with an air of quiet self-possession which remained unruffled even under the ordeal of the searching cross-examination of Mr Russell-Welch. She has regular features, rather large grey eyes, and a particularly attractive smile, though it was natural that it was not often to be observed on this occasion. She has a rather low and pleasant voice, which could be heard without difficulty in all parts of the court. She wore . . .
But we have had enough of the Daily Catch. Does it matter what she wore? She was not likely to be in mourning for an employer whom she had only known for three weeks. She wore white, and looked cool in a hot and crowded court. She had made up her mind not to be hurried, and if she felt less cool than she looked - well, that was natural enough.
She said that her age was twenty-eight (the Daily Catch commented that she looked younger), that she was a B. A. (Sheffield), and a games-mistress by profession. She had seen an advertisement a few weeks ago for a ' lady help ' who would also undertake the care of two young children, giving them elementary lessons. She had answered this, being unemployed at the time, and thinking that she would try what such a post would be like. She had called on Mrs Hackett, who had engaged her at the first interview.
"Subject to references, I suppose?" the coroner asked.
"I offered references, but she said she liked to judge people for herself. So I agreed to go for a month on trial on both sides. I went in the next day."
"Then you had been in the house less than three weeks when the death occurred. There is, as you know, some evidence that Mrs Hackett, whether with or without cause, was jealous of some attention which Mr Hackett had paid to you. Were you aware of this?"
"Yes. Miss Bickerton told me the first day she came. That would be Friday, August the 2nd. After that things were very uncomfortable."
"Do you think it was wise to stay under such circumstances?"
"I thought it might be open to misconstruction if I left before the month was completed. Besides, Mrs Hackett asked me to stay. She said I had no right to go and leave her stranded."
"Then you had discussed the matter with Mrs Hackett?"
"Yes, twice. I had it over on the day that Miss Bickerton first mentioned it to me, and again on the afternoon of August the 8th."
Mr Russell-Welch looked up sharply at this. He was evidently surprised. He made one of his rapid hieroglyphic notes.
"That was on the afternoon of the day that Mr Hackett had left - the afternoon before the day on which she died?"
"Yes."
"Where did you see her?"
"In her bedroom."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"How came you to go there?"
"She called me in."
"We have understood that her sister was constantly with her during that day."
"It was while Miss Bickerton was downstairs making the tea."
"I should like to know - but," the coroner checked himself, "it may be best to take the events of that afternoon in the order in which they occurred. Will you tell us, Miss Dorling, how you were occupied from lunch-time, and generally all that occurred as far as it came within your experience or observation. I need not emphasize the importance of accuracy."
"I had lunch with the two children in the nursery. It was rather earlier than usual, because Gladys was going out - - "
"Gladys Forman is the maid-servant?"
"Yes. She went out as soon as lunch was over, after I had helped her with the washing up so that she could get off. She was going to the West Bromwich Fair."
"She was out for the rest of the day?"
"Yes. She came in about eleven or half-past."
"I believe Inspector Taverton has verified that Gladys Forman was seen at the fair by several people who knew her during the afternoon and evening. Is not that so, Inspector?"
"Yes, sir. That's quite clear," the Inspector answered.
"Very well. Go on, Miss Dorling. Who would be left in the house when the maid had gone out?"
"There was no one except Mrs Hackett and Miss Bickerton and myself, and the two children. I got the children ready, and sent them to play in the next-door garden with a neighbour's child. I was going to use some weed-killer on the garden paths, and I thought they were best out of the way."
"Was it part of your regular duties to attend to the garden?"
"No, but I am fond of gardening, and I found that both Mr and Mrs Hackett were pleased for me to do it."
"From where did you get the weed-killer?"
"Mr Hackett had bought it for me a few days before."
"At whose suggestion?"
"At mine. It was the only possible way to deal with the paths. They were green from side to side."
"Did you understand that weed-killer had been used previously?"
"No. I shouldn't think it had, by the state of the paths."
"Is it a large garden?"
"Yes. It must be nearly an acre, and most of it is quite uncultivated. Of course, I couldn't do much, but I thought I could get the front a bit tidier than it was."
"So you proposed to Mr Hackett that he should get some weed-killer, and he bought a tin for you. When was that?"
"About a week earlier."
Inspector Taverton rose again.
"It was purchased by Mr Hackett on the afternoon of Saturday, August the 3rd, at Blatch and Pritchard's."
He produced the tin, which he handed up to the coroner, by whom it was passed on to the jury, who gazed upon it with great solemnity, one after another, though it is difficult to suppose that they could learn anything of importance from the inspection.
"It was bought quite openly?"
"Oh, yes, sir. Mr Hackett is a regular customer at the shop."
"Very well, Inspector. Please go on, Miss Dorling. Can you identify this tin as the one which Mr Hackett bought for your use?"
"Yes. It looks like it. I've no doubt that's the one."
"What did you do when you had sent the children away?"
"I got the tin down - it was on a high shelf in the scullery - and mixed the watering-can full. When I'd emptied it on the paths I came back and mixed another can. I did this several times."
"Where did you leave the tin while you were away?"
"On the copper or on the sink. I think it was on the copper most of the time, if not all."
"This was the first time it had been used?"
"Yes. It was the first chance I had had."
"Was the tin opened previously?"
"No I opened it then."
"You are quite sure of that?"
"Yes. Quite."
"Did Miss Bickerton know how you were occupied?"
"Yes. I told her before lunch I should be having a go at the weeds during the afternoon."
"Well, go on."
"While I was watering the paths there came a few spots of rain. Only a few, but very large spots. They stopped after a minute, but the sky was very black at one side, as though a heavy storm were coming, and I remembered that the children had only their thin summer clothes on, so I put the can down, and ran upstairs to get some wraps for them, and I put on a raincoat myself."
"But if they were only in the next garden wouldn't it have been quicker to call them in at once?"
"No, I don't think so. I had better explain. The children are young - the boy five, and the girl three. The house next to The Firs is a very old one, and it's been empty for years. It has a large garden, which has been neglected for I don't know how long, and there's an old orchard beyond that. I've been nearly half an hour finding them there before now. If they'd been sheltering from the rain I should have got them soaked bringing them in, if I hadn't had their waterproofs to put over them."
"Very well. Then you ran upstairs. Had you seen Miss Bickerton during the afternoon, up to this point?"
"Yes, I may have done. I think she'd been in and out of the kitchen once or twice, but I'm not sure. We passed each other on the stairs as I went up."
"And then?"
"I had got the wraps and was on the landing, just coming down, when Mrs Hackett called me into her room. She said that her sister had gone down to make her a cup of tea, and she didn't like being left alone. I suppose she really wanted to talk. . . . There wasn't very much said. I told her what I wanted to do, and she said of course she mustn't keep me, but she did, just from minute to minute - it wasn't actually raining then - and then the rain came very heavily, and I got away, and ran down."
"Can you recall the conversation?"
"Not very clearly, because I was trying not to seem unkind, and yet to get away, all the time. It was mostly about how ill she was, and how cruel every one was to her, and why didn't the doctor come?"
"Did she mention this trouble about you and her husband in any way?"
The witness paused for the first time before she answered, and then said:
"Not exactly. She asked me if I would wire Mr Hackett to come home. She said he would come if he had a wire from me. . . . But I don't think she meant it at all."
"Did she say anything about your leaving?"
"She said she wanted me to stay. . . . But I don't think she meant that either. . . . She said it at first as if she meant it, and then said, wouldn't I stay for Mr Hackett's sake? . . . It wasn't always easy to tell what she meant."
"Did you promise to stay?"
"I said I would think it over. . . . I was only trying to get away without saying anything which would make more trouble."
"And after that you went out to fetch the children? Did you see Miss Bickerton again before you went out?"
"Yes. We passed again in the passage. She was carrying up the cup of tea on a tray."
"Not the pot - only the cup?"
"Yes, I think so. I didn't notice particularly. But I feel sure the pot wasn't taken up. It wasn't on the tray, anyway, when it came down."
"Was anything said?"
"Miss Bickerton asked me, 'How did she seem?' or something like that. I suppose she had heard us talking. And I said, 'She seems rather worried,' or something like that. I didn't think she was really ill. . . . Then I went out and found the children, and brought them in."
"Where was the tin of weed-killer during this time?"
"I put it back on the top scullery-shelf as I went out to fetch the children."
"Then it was standing open in the scullery while you were upstairs? Did you notice whether it had been moved at all during that time?"
"No. I mean I didn't notice. I might have done if it had. So far as I recollect, it was standing on the side of the copper against the wall. I don't think it had been moved at all."
"Was all this before Dr Elgood's visit in the latter part of the afternoon?"
"Yes. Because I saw him in the hall, and I remember that I was careful to pass without touching him, because I was so drenched."
"Now I am sure you will answer this very carefully. Do you know, or can you suggest, any way by which a quantity of that weed-killer, however small, could have got into the pot, or the cup, or the saucer or spoon, in which the tea was served to Mrs Hackett that afternoon?
There was a dead silence in the court as the coroner put this question with more than his usual deliberation.
"No. I can't imagine how it could have happened at all. . . . The more we talk it over," she added, "the more puzzling it seems. . . . But I'm sure there was nothing wrong with the pot."
"How can you be sure of that?"
"Because I had a cup from it myself after I changed. I felt chilled, and the pot was standing on the side-table by the gas-stove, and I made myself a cup from it. It was while Dr Elgood was upstairs."
"Did you see anything more of Mrs Hackett that evening?"
"No. I put the children to bed, and after that I was reading most of the time in my own room. I knew Dr Riggett came, and after that I asked Miss Bickerton how she was, and she said she seemed rather better, and she was trying to persuade her to have a meal. . . . Then I went to bed, and was waked by hearing Miss Bickerton go down to the kitchen. I think I went to sleep again, and was waked by her calling me to get up at once, as Mrs Hackett was very ill, and she didn't know what to do. I went and did what I could, and helped her 'phone the doctors. We rang up Dr Riggett first, and then Dr Elgood, because we weren't sure that Dr Riggett meant to come."
"Did Miss Bickerton seem very distressed by her sister's condition?"
"Yes, she seemed distracted."
"Were they generally on affectionate terms?"
"Yes, very."
The coroner paused at this point to glance over his notes and then up at the clock.
"I think that will do, Miss Dorling, unless Mr Russell-Welch would like to ask any questions. Yes? Well, if you think you will take more than a few minutes I think we can conveniently adjourn at this stage."
But Mr Russell-Welch said that he would not take more than ten minutes, and as he evidently wished to go on the coroner signified his assent.
"You have told us, Miss Dorling," the K.C. began, with a delusive suavity, "that you are a games-mistress by profession, and that you hold a B. A. degree. Can you tell the court what induced you to apply for such a position as this - that of a lady help and nursery governess?"
"I had been out of employment for a term, and thought I would try it."
"Nothing else?"
"No."
"Miss Dorling, please answer this carefully, in your own interest. When did you first meet Mr Hackett?"
"About seven years ago, when I was staying at Staines."
The reply was given quietly and readily, but its effect was immediate on the listening court. There was a murmur of voices, which drew a sharp rebuke from the coroner, and which only stilled itself lest it should miss the continuation of this unexpected development.
"You were on rather intimate terms with Mr Hacket at that time?"
"We were friends for a short time - nothing more."
"Never engaged?"
"No."
"And so you enter his house seven years later, in the capacity which you have told us, without informing his wife of this previous relation?"
"I did not know who it was till I met him on the second day of my engagement."
"Miss Dorling! Don't you think that is stretching our credulity rather far? I must suggest to you a very different explanation. I must suggest that you would not have taken such a position at all had you not been attracted by the opportunity of renewing this acquaintance."
"You overlook the fact that I answered an anonymous advertisement."
"Not at all. I suggest that it was one to which your attention had been directed by Mr Hackett as furnishing the opportunity which you desired."
"You are utterly wrong."
"Then will you seriously tell the court that even the name of Mrs Hackett - Mrs James Bruton Hackett - meant nothing to you when first you heard it?"
"It meant nothing at all. When I knew Mr Hackett we used to call him Tony. I suppose it was a nickname, but I don't really know. I never heard him called James till I went there."
"Then you wish it to be believed that it was by a pure coincidence that you entered this house, in this almost menial capacity, and met the man you had known, we will say as a friend, before his marriage, seven years ago?"
"That is what it was."
"And having entered his house in this way, you resumed the relations with him - whatever they were - which you had had previously?"
The girl looked at the K.C. with a self-control that she would not relinquish.
"Will you please be more definite? I should like to know what you mean by 'resume relations,' before I reply."
"You would like me to be more definite. Well, Miss Dorling, I don't think I will. We will just leave it as a question which you decline to answer. . . . Can you tell how it was that the teapot was washed, but the cup wasn't?"
Even this abrupt transition did not disturb the cool poise with which the witness faced the ordeal of the examination.
"Yes, I can. I had washed the pot myself, because Gladys was out, and I thought it might be needed later in the evening. Mrs Hackett sometimes had tea very frequently. I told Gladys when she came in that she could leave the washing up till the morning, as it was so late. I expect Miss Bickerton thought she had done it."
"Well, so much for that. Then perhaps you can say also how Miss Bickerton was able to identify the cup she had used, as you told the court that you had also made a cup for yourself, and I suppose there may have been others which had been used and were left unwashed?"
"Yes, I can tell you that. Mrs Hackett always had her tea served in a cup from the best service, which was not generally used."
Mr Russell-Welch sat down.
Mr Duff-Preedy rose.
"I should like to re-examine the witness, but, as you have intimated that you are closing the court, I will defer it till tomorrow, Mr Coroner, with your permission."
Mr Duff-Preedy gained the interval which he valued as highly as Mr Russell-Welch the advantage of the unexpected attack.
CHAPTER VII
CHIEF INSPECTOR TAVERTON was a man of simple tastes, and one whose moderate income was easily absorbed by his somewhat numerous family. Even when he could debit his expenses to the nation which he served, his meals were rarely of a higher cost than eighteenpence or two shillings. When he left the court he spent ninepence and fewer minutes in the branch of the ubiquitous Lyons which is in West Bromwich High Street, and then got on the tram which would take him to Birmingham in little more than an hour, and so enable him to catch the 6 P. M. from Snow Hill to Paddington. He dispatched a telegram from the Birmingham station to Scotland Yard, and when he arrived there at 8.30 P. M. he found his chief awaiting his arrival and prepared to hear his report.
"You don't think it's suicide?" the Assistant Commissioner asked, when he had concluded his narrative.
"No, sir, I'm almost certain it isn't. It's one of the plainest cases of murder that I've ever met. The trouble is that there's so much evidence against both of them, but for the other. The question is which to pick."
"We can't have a mistake this time, Taverton. I don't want any miscarriage of justice, and for that reason I want you to be quite sure which it is before you apply for a warrant. You must bear in mind that when you have made an arrest you must carry it through After the Foote case we can't afford to fail again. Of course, if you arrest on a coroner's warrant that's a different matter. But you ought to agree with Bradson who it's to be before he sums up, or whether an open verdict would suit you best.
. . . "But you know, Taverton, watching the witnesses as you can, there oughtn't to be any doubt. It's not like reading over the evidence here. . . . I suppose the women can't be in collusion and shielding each other?"
"No. I don't think it's possible. They hate each other about equally. I expect I shall know who did it when I've heard Miss Bickerton's evidence tomorrow. I rather hope it's her. The other one's too cool to be easily caught, and she's too pretty for most juries to hang her. We may have a hard fight to get a verdict if we pick her. But there's plenty of evidence against either.
. . . "Of course, it would have been easy enough if this inquest hadn't queered the pitch."
He thought regretfully of the 'voluntary' statements which he could have extracted separately from each of the inhabitants of The Firs, and of the endless hours of questioning to which he could have subjected them, without the disconcerting presence of their own solicitors, or of any impartial shorthand-writer to take down what was said without his judicious phrasing to give it the tone at which he aimed.
Well, he must make the best of the facts as he had to face them. He must decide which of the two women was the murderer before tomorrow was over, and after that there must be no looking back. Guilty or innocent, she had got to hang. But the thought did not perturb him. He had too great a confidence in his own ability.
When he decided that a woman was guilty - well, she was. It was his job to see that a jury said so, and if he failed in that he wasn't fit to keep it.
"Miss Bickerton lives at Shrewsbury, sir," he went on. "She's a cashier with a firm of builders' merchants. Quite a good firm. She was spending her holiday with her sister, which she usually did - and most weekends. I wish you'd have some inquiries made there, and have anything wired to me that might be useful during the day."
He went home to a short night's rest and slept soundly, with a consciousness of duty done.
CHAPTER VIII
THE day had been warm, but there was a change of wind, which became cool in the evening, with a drizzle of chilling rain. It was not enough to disperse the crowd which gathered outside The Firs to gaze at the stone pillars and the iron gate of the drive, and at the grey shoulder of the house, as it showed through the thick leafage of the summer trees.
They made it easy for the people on the tram-tops to know when they passed the house, and these had an advantage of height, so that they could see some of the bedroom-windows and a part of the tangled garden as they stared and pointed.
But they could not see into the shadowing gloom of the low-ceiled dining-room, where the three protagonists of this sudden tragedy sat at supper together, and none cared to switch on the lights as the evening closed.
There had been constraint enough before the inquest opened, but there was none of the three who had not learned new facts during the day, against one or another, to anger or alienate further, or to change or deepen the suspicions of carelessness or crime which barred any freedom of intercourse and increased the distance which had separated them in the past. Those days which were now over had seemed wretched enough at the time, but two, at least, of those at the table would have given almost anything in life to regain them, and to wake to find that the present had been a nightmare dream.
Each of them had hesitated whether to be present at the meal, but James had something to say which he felt he could do more easily to both at once, and Anne had felt - as she had felt at the inquest - that she would like to hear anything that was said. She was not going to leave James and Miss Dorling alone to discuss her and make their plans, and perhaps evolve new theories to make the case look darker against herself.
As to Miss Dorling, she seemed to have a habit of facing that which came without over-much perturbation, but whether that is to be taken as a courage of innocence or a coolness of criminality, whether it be her natural manner or a calculated pose with which to disarm suspicion, we may prefer to reserve opinion, at any rate till we have seen how Miss Bickerton will survive the ordeal of the witness-box, which her two companions have already experienced, and have the advantage of Chief Inspector Taverton's expert decision.
Miss Bickerton broke the long silence which had followed a request from Miss Dorling that she should pass the pepper - Anne was seated at the head of the table, with James on her left and Miss Dorling on her right - by saying:
"I shall go back to Shrewsbury tomorrow if it's over in time for me to get a train. I suppose you won't stay here, Miss Dorling, by yourself?"
Rose looked at her as though hesitating whether to make any reply, and then said, "Probably not." She turned her eyes to James. "I've been trying to persuade Gladys to stay, but it's no good. I'm afraid she'll go when she gets her wages tomorrow, whatever we say."
Gladys had declared that she "wouldn't stay, miss; no, not for a million pounds." She was, in fact, staying for the £3 6s. 8d. which would be due to her tomorrow night, but she was not good at arithmetic.
"Lor', miss," she said, "every time I looks at that shelf it gives me such a turn as never was."
So much for Gladys.
Rose went on, "I don't think I can stay longer when the inquest's over, but I don't like to think of you being left all alone, if Miss Bickerton's going too."
James said, "I shan't stay here alone. I might go to the Mercers' for a few days, but I wish you could have kept on with the children - - "
Then he stopped, for he saw his sister-in-law's expression, and he realized that she might have something to say later on that point - unless she were otherwise occupied.
The children had been sent to stay with some friends in Birmingham, and it was there that he thought he might find a few days' asylum also from the shadows of that deserted house.
Thinking of future arrangements for the children reminded him of the will of which he had heard a few hours earlier. It did not decrease the coldness with which he habitually regarded his sister-in-law, or the doubt of her innocence, which he had never been able to stifle entirely.
He had no gift of finesse, as we may have observed.
He said, "Aren't you staying to scoop the loot?"
Miss Bickerton seemed on the edge of an angry or indignant answer, but checked herself to say only, "You mean Belle's will? I thought those things had to be proved, before anyone could do anything."
"Well," he said, "you can watch the pot till it boils - but perhaps you've thought that a watched pot never does." He was dimly conscious of implications here which he would have been incapable of intending.
So, perhaps, was she. She made no answer at all.
He went on, "But I wanted to talk to you both about what Preedy said at lunch.
"He says that what our evidence, taking it in bulk, amounts to is just this: We're sure it wasn't accident, and we're sure it wasn't suicide, and we didn't do it ourselves, and there was no one else in the house. Now if it turns out that Belle wasn't poisoned, as we hope it will, that's all right; but if not, we're saying what can't be true, and if we don't want it to end in a criminal trial, we've got to put our heads together, and go all out for suicide. He thought you ought to think of this, Anne, before you give your evidence tomorrow."
"And if I don't say that Belle might have committed suicide I suppose I'm to be the criminal?"
"He didn't say that. But you have got to look at this. If it was suicide you've got to have some possible explanation of how the arsenic got on the spoon, when the spoon hadn't been in the tea."
"There's no difficulty about that. Belle didn't take sugar. You know that as well as I do; and you know that we had to take a spoon and the sugar up just the same, or she was sure to say that she wanted it that time, and it meant another journey to fetch them."
"That doesn't explain the arsenic on the spoon."
"No, but there are ways it might happen. Some one might have known that she'd taken some of the poison, and then put it on the spoon."
"But you were alone when the tea was made. No one could have done that but you."
"Yes, they could. They could have put it on the spoon any time during the evening if they wanted to make out that I'd poisoned Belle."
"But there was arsenic in the dregs of the tea."
"Well, they could have put that there too."
"Are you making this fantastic accusation against Miss Dorling or me?"
"I'm not accusing anyone. I'm only showing you that you should leave me alone."
"But I don't want to interfere. I only want to let you know what Preedy thinks - that we shall make more trouble for ourselves if we try to make the jury think that it wasn't suicide."
"Well, it wasn't. I know Belle too well to think that, and I'm not going to say so for anyone."
"Then what do you think did happen?"
"I don't know any more than you. Perhaps less."
"Well, I suppose you're not going to suggest that I put anything in the cup when I was in Liverpool at the time."
"No, but you might have known what was being done. After all, you bought the weed-killer."
"He only bought it," Miss Dorling interposed, "because I asked him to."
"Yes, I know that quite well - and it was you that got it out that afternoon."
"Look here, Anne," James said, "we're all talking too fast. If you don't think out what you mean a bit better, you'll look as silly as I did when you give evidence tomorrow. I don't quite know what you mean to suggest, but you say that you're certain that Belle didn't commit suicide, and then that Miss Dorling knew she'd done it, and put some arsenic into her teacup so that suspicion might fall on you, and that I knew what she was going to do. That's how it sounds to me, and it's just rot; and if you want to make every one think you did it yourself you can't go a better way."
After saying which James Hackett, who rarely talked at such length unless he were in a condition of unusual exasperation, got up and left the room.
He switched on a light in the hall, and observed a letter lying on the mat, which had come by the evening delivery.
He read this, and though it would be too much to say that he felt in good spirits, he was conscious of some lifting of the previous misery, as he made his way to his solitary room, where Belle would never vex him again with affectations of illness, or weary him with tales of endless grievances, or tantalize him with inconstant moods, or meet him with swift out-bursts of jealousy or passion or penitence. . . . He would never forget Belle . . . would never cease to feel a sharp pang of regret for that suddenly shortened life. She had loved life in her own way. She had had vivid moments which could never be forgotten by the man to whom she had given all of herself - as far as such women can. In her own way she had loved him well.
. . . Yet good news is good, whatever miseries may be ours when it arrives. He may have slept better for that letter, though he woke early enough to go over the events of the last days with a dull fury of exasperation. He didn't want to think that Anne could have done such a thing, even if there was this will of which he had not heard, and which certainly would not have outlasted the week, had Belle lived to revoke it. He was determined that he would not entertain the thought that Rose could have done it. He knew that Rose had been fond of him years ago. He had left Staines when her preference had proved an embarrassment, for he had been engaged to Belle Bickerton at that time, though she did not know it. He had never been in love with Rose. He wasn't now. He was quite certain of that. But he liked her. He always had. Perhaps he liked her better than he had at Staines. Anyway, he wouldn't admit the possibility that she would do such a thing as that. Then was it suicide? He didn't think it was. Was it accident? He didn't see how it could be. Damn it all! Would the truth never be known? . . . Was he sure that he wanted it known? He knew that he would stop the inquest at once if he were able to do so. Such things only made bad worse. It was curiosity more than anything else. There was no consideration for Belle or anyone, living or dead. How Belle would have hated the way in which they discussed her and laid her weaknesses bare! . . . And it could do no good. It could only put the idea of poisoning into other people's minds and tell them how best to do it.
James Hackett went to bed in a bad temper, but he woke up in a worse. Why wouldn't Anne be sensible, and say that it must have been suicide, which she had always rather feared or expected? He couldn't think it was really Anne. . . . Still, there was the will. . . .
He read the letter again, and felt that slight lifting of the clouds which he had experienced the night before.
CHAPTER IX
THE court had been crowded yesterday, but it was worse today. There had been a long queue that waited for admittance hours before it had opened. Now the street was jammed with hundreds who could not enter, but waited to observe the arrival of those from among whom they could already surmise that the law would select its victim.
James had been 'phoned an hour before by the West Bromwich police-station, advising him to bring his party by taxi, rather than to come in on the Birmingham tram that passed his gate. It was arranged that the taxi should be met on its arrival by an adequate force of police, so that its occupants might gain entrance in safety.
As they took their seats in the vehicle - Anne and Miss Dorling side by side (but with some distance between them) and he opposite - James was conscious of some feeling of sympathy for the white-faced figure of his sister-in-law, who had to face the ordeal which he and Rose had already experienced. She looked ill. He knew that she could be hysterical under sufficient provocation. She had not spoken at all this morning, except for answering mono-syllables. She had eaten nothing at all. All these things might be consistent with her having poisoned her sister, but he could not think that she had. Still, there was the will. It was not sufficient reply, to his own mind, to say that it seemed unlikely that she would act in such a manner, for he knew that they were faced by some unlikely thing. If she had done it it must have been on some sudden impulse, for the opportunity had not been of her providing. His powers of apprehension were much greater than his powers of expression, which was partly why he was irritated so easily by the glib legal talkers who seemed to observe so much and to realize so little. If she had done it on such an impulse he saw that she must be the most wretched among them, and the most needing of sympathy, and would still have been so even though her fellow-men might not have been gathering for the pitiless hunt.
. . . On the opening of the court Miss Dorling was at once recalled to the witness-box. Mr Preedy was about to rise when Russell-Welch asked permission to put a few further questions.
"Miss Dorling," he asked, "did you at any time inform Mrs Hackett of your acquaintance with her husband?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"When I spoke to her in her bedroom on the afternoon of the 8th of August."
"Was that the first time?"
"I am not sure."
"Not sure? Come, Miss Dorling, do yourself justice. You could not forget a conversation of that
"I have not forgotten."
"Then will you explain what you mean?"
"Yes. At the earlier conversation I tried to tell her more than once, but the sentences were sometimes unfinished. When I tried to explain anything Mrs Hackett said it was all too trivial and she didn't want to hear, and then she went on talking. It was rather a one-sided conversation." A faint smile came to her lips at the recollection, which Mr Russell-Welch found somewhat disconcerting, it being seldom that he observed a witness to be so much at ease when he was cross-examining in this manner. He tried another attack.
"You have said that the conversation on the afternoon of the 8th of August was quite a short one, and that you were only trying to say such things as would avert further trouble, and that you were trying to get away all the time. Do you think it sounds a probable thing that you should have first made such a confession at such a time and under such circumstances?"
"It wasn't a confession: it was an explanation. It was the most natural reply I could give to a remark that Mrs Hackett made."
"Very well. We will leave it that you did not tell her until that day, so far as you are aware. . . . You were very much in love with Mr Hackett when you used to meet him in Staines?"
Miss Dorling looked at the K.C. without answering, and the coroner intervened.
"I am sorry that it should be necessary to probe into these matters, but I think you should answer. The question is, were you in love with Mr Hackett when you knew him at Staines years ago?"
"Yes, I was."
Mr Russell-Welch said quickly, "And you are still?"
She looked at him coolly. "I think you are going too far."
There was a murmur of approval from the crowded court.
"I don't think you should press that question if the witness objects to answer," said the coroner.
"Then I must defer to your ruling." Mr Russell-Welch sat down.
Mr Duff-Preedy rose briskly.
"Do you think, Miss Dorling, that Mrs Hackett was seriously jealous of or distressed by any signs of friendship or intimacy - I don't mean in any serious sense - between Mr Hackett and yourself before she knew of this previous acquaintance?"
Miss Dorling paused to consider her answer.
"No, not very. She never liked him to talk to anyone except herself. I don't think she was really upset. I think she liked having a grievance."
"Do you mind telling the court exactly what it was to which she took exception? Was it nothing beyond the fact that you talked to her husband too much, or he to you?"
"She said she had seen us kiss."
"Was it true?"
"No."
"But she thought it to be so?"
"She may have done. I cannot say."
"Then I will put this to you, and I want you to answer carefully: If Mrs Hackett had no serious cause for jealousy, but only what I may describe as a restless doubt or suspicion, may not your conversation on this afternoon of August 8th have had the effect - however unintended by you - of making it suddenly seem a more serious thing; may it not have suddenly appeared to her as something which had been going on for years without her knowledge, and, to one of her exceptional temperament - to one in her physical condition at the time - have had the effect of an unexpected shock?"
Miss Dorling made no haste to reply to this question, and the coroner was the first to speak.
"Of course," he said, "I see what you are driving at. I have had the same thought in my own mind - that this conversation may have originated some sudden impulse of self-destruction. But there is this difficulty: if we are dealing with a case of arsenical poisoning, and if the poison was taken in the cup of tea that Miss Bickerton was bringing up almost at the moment - to which all the evidence so far points - how should Mrs Hackett have put it into the tea unless she had already secreted it, and done this during the earlier part of that same afternoon when the tin of weed-killer was first opened?"
"I have considered that also," Mr. Duff-Preedy replied, "but I submit that though we have had evidence of when the tea was carried up, we have as yet had none of when it was actually drunk."
"Still," said the coroner, "there would be difficulties. . . . But there may be more evidence to come on this point. It may be better not to discuss it now. . . . Well, Miss Dorling, you heard the question. What do you say?"
"It would be possible."
Mr Duff-Preedy sat down at once. He realized quickly that Miss Dorling did not accept the suggestion, but she knew that he was aiming at a verdict of suicide, and she would back him up. It was a shrewd reply.
Miss Dorling stepped down, and Miss Bickerton took her place in the witness-box.
CHAPTER X
IT may have been unfortunate for Anne Bickerton that Miss Dorling had been recalled to the witness-box that morning, so that the jury had the immediate contrast of a witness who gave hesitating and confused replies, who left sentences unfinished, or altered her evidence even in the act of giving it, with one who was sure alike of herself and her facts, and who would hold her position unshaken, even when it was of an inherent improbability.
She said that her name was Anne Bickerton, that she was unmarried, was three years younger than her sister had been, and lived alone in rooms at 17 Raven Close, Shrewsbury.
Of these facts she appeared sure, and she gave them readily, but there was little of her subsequent evidence which had a similar certainty.
"Occupation?" the coroner asked. These routine preliminary questions were necessary, for he must have the identity and status of a witness clearly recorded, but it was routine, all the same.
"I am - was cashier at Tucker and Thomson's.
He looked up from the notes he was taking, slightly puzzled. "'Am' or 'was'?"
"I was - am - at least, I don't know whether I shall go back."
"Thinks she's got the money already?" the Chief Inspector whispered to Russell-Welch, half in jest and half in jest and half in query.
But the K.C. shook his head. "It isn't that. There's something else here. You'd better follow it up."
"I'm having police inquiries made in Shrewsbury this morning. We don't leave much to chance in these cases."
"Good man!" said the K.C. "But just listen to this."
The coroner had settled the point with a characteristic grammatical exactness. "Have been cashier, up to a fortnight ago" - so he directed the short-hand-writer to record it. He went on:
"You had come to visit your sister during a holiday? Did you often visit her on such occasions?"
"Yes. Not - well, at weekends. It wasn't - - "
"Yes, yes," said the coroner. "Wait a minute. I only want to know whether there was any special reason which caused you to come to her at this time?"
The witness paused in an evident confusion before a question to which the coroner had expected no more than a simple negative.
"Well, there was something - I did want to see her particularly - - "
The coroner looked at her keenly, and with an expression which was not without sympathy, though it showed some impatience also.
"Tell me this, Miss Bickerton: did you visit your sister in response to any special request from her, or because you had any reason - any special reason - to think that she might need you, or that things were not going happily with her?"
"No - nothing special."
"Very well. And it was the kind of visit that you often paid?"
"Yes - except I couldn't often stay so long, except at Christmas and sometimes at Easter."
"Well, never mind that. It was just an ordinary visit. That's what I want to get at. She was your only sister?"
"Yes."
"Only near relative?"
"Yes - at least, we've a second cousin at Tewkesbury, and abroad there's - - "
"Never mind those who are abroad. It was quite natural that you should come to see your sister on your holidays."
"So I always said. It wasn't only her, it was the children - - "
"Then was there some objection to your coming so often?"
"Not except James, and Belle always said - - "
"Your brother-in-law thought your visits were rather too frequent?"
"James was always nasty to me."
"So that you probably didn't see your sister as often as you otherwise might have done?"
"Oh, no. That didn't make any difference. It wasn't likely - - "
"I see. Your sister liked you to visit her as often as possible, although your brother-in-law rather objected, and his objection didn't weigh much with either of you? . . . Well, we needn't go further into that. . . . Not now, anyway. . . . I want you, before we come to the events of the 8th of August, to recall as clearly as you can what happened on the previous days. Which day did your visit commence?"
"On August the 2nd - no, the 1st - no, I'm not sure - on the Friday - the Friday night."
"On the evening of Friday, the 2nd of August. And on the same day you had a conversation with Miss Dorling, of which she has told us something already. Was this conversation at your sister's request, or in consequence of something that you had seen yourself?"
"Belle asked me. She said she was too nervous. . . . Of course, I'd seen."
"Seen what?"
"How they were going on."
"How were they?"
"Talking and laughing, as though they didn't care how ill she was."
"Was that all?"
"I should think it was enough; and they had breakfast without waiting for Belle to come down."
"And without you either?"
"No - yes - I mean, it was before I came."
"Then you don't know that it happened from your own knowledge?"
"No - yes, I do. Belle told me."
"Was that what she asked you to mention to Miss Dorling?"
"Yes, and not to be cruel in other ways."
"What ways?"
"Making her not have her meals, and forgetting how thin she was, and talking to James, and making the children like her more than her, and laughing when she was ill."
"What did Miss Dorling say to all this?"
"She said she'd leave."
"But she didn't leave?"
"No. I told her it just showed what a sort she was to start talking like that and leave Belle stranded."
"So she agreed to stay?"
"Yes - no - till the end of the month, or till Belle got some one else."
"So no doubt you told your sister of this arrangement. Was she satisfied?"
"Who? Belle? Of course not; she said it showed there was something in it, or she wouldn't have stayed, after being accused like that."
"But I understood that you had pressed her to stay till you could get some one else?"
"Yes, of course. Belle didn't want to be stranded; she said it just showed what a sort she was to talk of going off like that."
"Very well. We'll leave that. Suppose we go on to August the 7th. A statement was made in court yesterday that your sister made a will on the afternoon of that day by which she left all her property to you, excluding her husband and her own children entirely, and that you knew of this - that you were with her at the time. Is that true?"
"Yes, I was with her. We always went out together."
"Did her husband know that she was changing her will in this way?"
"Of course not. Belle didn't want any fuss."
"Did you expostulate with her against making a will of such a kind?"
"No. She didn't want Miss Dorling to have them if she died."
"Them?"
"The children, of course."
"Do you mean that the will creates a trust for the children under your control?"
"Yes. I mean, I was to look after the children."
"Does it say so in the will?"
"No. That was what Belle said."
"Did you know that she was not going to her usual solicitor for making this will?"
"Yes."
"Why was that?"
"She didn't want Mr Preedy to know that she was being nasty to James."
"Do you know how much money she had?"
"Yes - no - at least, Mr Sledson left her twelve thousand pounds. That was what Belle said was left after they bought the houses, and there were some shares in a screw works."
"What property?"
"The house where they lived and the one that's empty next door."
"So, if she died while that will remained, it would appear that you could take all this considerable estate, including the home in which her husband and children lived?"
"I don't know how much is left. They must have spent a lot."
"Beyond the income?"
"I don't know how much. Belle spent a lot."
"Did you say anything to persuade your sister against making this will?"
"No. Mr Tomkinson said it would be quite good."
"That was not what I asked. Did you think it was 'quite good'?"
"Yes - with that woman in the house."
"But Miss Dorling had offered to go."
"Well, there might be some one else if Belle was dead."
"Did your sister often make wills?"
"No - yes - well, she made some. You have to, if you've got money to leave."
"Had she ever left her property to you before?"
"I don't know."
"As far as you know?"
"No."
"And when she made the next will it would be very likely to be a different one?"
"Yes, if she was being silly with James."
"Well - perhaps we'd better come on to the events of the next day. We have been told that your sister was ill in bed. Was it a sudden attack?"
"No, she'd been very ill all the week."
"But you have told us that she went to the solicitor's office the day before?"
"Well, she wanted to."
"When she was seriously ill? Why didn't the solicitor come to her?"
"We went in a taxi."
"Dr Riggett has told us that she was suffering the next day from muscular rheumatism."
"Well, it was James making her go out like that that made her so bad."
"Making her go out? I thought you said he didn't know?"
"It was his goings on."
The coroner paused a moment. He looked at the legal gentlemen who had been keen, though silent, observers of this curious evidence.
"Mr Preedy," he said, "I'm wondering whether Dr Riggett knew that his patient had been able to go out on the previous afternoon. I think I must recall him on that point. It might be very material."
"I was thinking the same thing," the solicitor answered; "but I think Dr Riggett gave us a broad hint yesterday." Few could be more skilful than he at gradually building up an impression. He hoped to develop this point of whether Mrs Hackett could have gone downstairs till the jury would be influenced by the proof of potentiality, almost as though it were a proof of the fact itself.
The coroner resume