IN COURT
The day of the petty sessions at Newton followed closely in the same
week, within two days, and whilst excitement was at its height. The
court-house was packed, there was hardly standing room; and there was a
full bench of magistrates.
Kate was brought in, looking pale; her broad white forehead like ivory,
with the dark hair drawn back on either side; the dark eyebrows and long
dusky lashes showing conspicuously on account of her pallor; and the
lustrous blue eyes, so full of light, alone giving brightness to her
face. Though pale, she was composed. She no longer trembled, and her
lips were closed and firm.
The transparent purity, the innocent modesty of her bearing and
appearance, impressed the court.
She wore a black dress, as she had been accustomed to wear since the
fire at the Cellars, in which it was supposed her father had died, but
the black was spotted with white, as a sort of concession to the
supposition that he might be still alive.
Mr. Fielding was present. He had been courteously accommodated with a
chair within the precincts of the bench; he caught Kitty’s eye, and
raised his finger, pointing upwards. She understood him, and smiled
reassuringly.
Far more anxious than Kitty was Walter Bramber, who had given a holiday
to the school, with the rector’s consent, and had come into Newton to
hear the case. He was not able to master his agitation; his pain to see
Kitty in so conspicuous a position, and in such danger, labouring under
an accusation which he was certain was unfounded.
Pasco Pepperill was present; he would have to appear in the witness-box.
He had sent for his solicitor to conduct the prosecution.
As soon as the case was called, Mr. Squire stood up. He had, he said, a
painful task imposed on him, and none felt it more deeply than his
client, the plaintiff, who naturally shrank from taking a step of so
grave a character, against one who was his wife’s niece, young in age,
and who had been for many years an inmate of his house, and one for whom
hitherto he had entertained an almost fatherly regard. Indeed, so deeply
did the plaintiff feel this, that if possible he would have held back
altogether, and have borne his loss in silence. But there were attendant
circumstances which precluded him from adopting this course. He acted in
the matter solely from a sense of duty he owed to himself and to the
neighbourhood, and he might add, of humanity towards the unhappy
individual placed before the bench under the grave charge of arson.
It was no secret’it could be no secret’that the most serious and
damaging reports had been circulated relative to his client in
connection with a recent fire at Coombe Cellars, reports most wounding
to a man of high integrity and irreproachable character, peculiarly
distressing to one of so sensitive and scrupulous a conscience as Mr.
Pasco Pepperill, who was churchwarden of his parish, and had served in
several important parochial offices, as guardian of the poor, waywarden
and overseer, always to the satisfaction of everyone, and had borne, in
all his dealings, the character of a straight and upright man.
Mr. Pepperill had formed his own opinions relative to the fire that had
occurred on his premises previous to this last, but with them, he, Mr.
Squire, would not trouble the bench. Suffice it to say that his view
relative to the origin of that fire had impelled him to act with
promptitude on the present occasion, not merely to bring to justice the
perpetrator of this last atrocious deed, but also to exhibit to the
neighbourhood the fact that he had harboured in his house one who was
capable of such acts, for which he himself had been most unjustly and
cruelly charged by the popular voice.
Moreover, in consideration of the fact that three cases of malicious
burning had taken place within a twelvemonth in the parish of Coombe,
Mr. Pepperill had thought himself morally bound, in the interest of the
public, to prosecute in this last instance, where the criminal had been
taken, so to speak, red-handed. And, lastly, he acted in her interest;
for he felt, and felt with the most sincere conviction, that it was for
the young girl’s own good in this world and in the next that a career so
badly begun should be checked; and that by wholesome correction she
might be induced to enter into her own heart and root out from it all
malice and resentfulness which had been allowed, as it would appear, to
harbour there and drive her to the commission of crime. In conclusion,
Mr. Squire hoped to produce such witnesses’all most reluctant to
speak’as would place the matter clearly before their worships, and leave
them no choice but to refer the case to the Quarter Sessions. The case
being one of felony, they were precluded from dealing with it as in a
case of summary jurisdiction.
Then Mr. Squire proceeded to call Mrs. Zerah Pepperill into the
witness-box. Zerah cast an appealing glance at Kitty, who acknowledged
it gently, with a faint smile.
The solicitor then questioned Mrs. Pepperill.
“You are, I believe, the aunt of the accused?”
“Yes, sir?”
“And you are greatly attached to her?”
“Very greatly. I have known her from a babe.”
“Then we may be quite satisfied that you are most unwilling to say
anything to her prejudice; and that only an overwhelming sense of duty
and responsibility induces you to give witness’and true witness?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, Mrs. Pepperill, will you look towards the Bench and tell their
worships, in order, the events of the evening of the 16th ultimo.”
Zerah was silent for a while.
“Do not be afraid; speak out,” said the chairman.
“Well, sir,” began Zerah, “it was supper’we mostly has our supper at
seven, or thereabout. Sometimes we can’t be exact. That clock of ours
ain’t over partic’lar to a minute, and us sets it by the Atmospheric,
and the Atmospheric is most irregular of all. Then us took the clock to
Mr. Ford, to Newton, to have ’n put to rights, and us paid ’n seven and
six, and he sent ’n home worse than he was afore. He used to go,
reg’lar, right on end till he runned down, tho’ he didn’t always keep
time exact-ly. But after Mr. Ford took ’n in hand, then he began to
stand still, after he wor winded up, out o’ pure wickedness; and if you
gentlemen would make Mr. Ford pay me back that there seven and six”’
The chairman interrupted her. “Come to the point, please, Mrs.
Pepperill.”
“Is it the leg o’ pork you mean?” asked Zerah. “I’m comin’ to her
direct-ly. You see, sirs, ’twern’t cured proper, not as I likes it, and
so the maggots got to the bone. Which do your worships like,
gentlemen’rubbin’ in the salt dry, or soakin’ in brine? I hold to the
dry rubbin’’that is, if it be well done; but to have a thing well done
you must do it yourself. You can’t trust nobody now. And so the
maggots”’
“Never mind the maggots, my good woman.”
“So I sed to Pasco. Us can’t waste thickey leg o’ pork; us must eat ’n,
and so I’ll get ’n out as well as I can, and you go and take plenty o’
exercise and work up a cruel strong appetite, and you won’t make no
count o’ there having been maggots in the leg o’ pork.”
The chairman again intervened, and requested Mr. Squire to extract what
was necessary to be known from this good woman by interrogation. If
allowed her own course, she would not know where to stop, like the clock
before taken in hand by Mr. Ford, and run clean away, as was threatened
by the leg of pork.
“Mrs. Pepperill,” said Mr. Squire, “you seem to be diffusive in your
evidence. However engrossing may be the interest attaching to your clock
and leg of pork, still we are not concerned, thank goodness, with
either’specially, thank goodness, we are not here to discuss that same
leg of pork.”
“The leg ought to ha’ been turned in the brine twice a day, and her
wasn’t. If her had been, her’d ha’ been famous.”
“I rather think, Mrs. Pepperill, this leg of pork is likely to become
famous now, as I see a local reporter present, and it will appear in the
paper. But this leg is blocking our way; let us lay it on the shelf and
proceed, as the French say, to our mutton. Where were you at seven, or,
may be, half-past seven, on the evening of the 16th ultimo?”
“I don’t think I was nowhere.”
“What! nowhere three days ago?”
“That wor the 16th August.”
“Well, I said so.”
“Beg pardon, sir, you asked for the 16th of Ultimo, and I never heered
tell o’ that month. It ain’t in the calendar.”
“Come; on the evening of the 16th last, were you at supper with your
husband and others?”
“Yes.”
“And those others were”’
“Rose Ash and Noah Flood. They came in”’
“Never mind that. Answer shortly my questions. Where was Kate Quarm?”
“She had her supper, too.”
“And when she had done, did she go into the back kitchen to clean up?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was anyone with her then?”
“Yes, sir; Jane Redmore.”
“And when Jane Redmore went home, did your niece accompany her?”
“She said she was going with her.”
“Did your niece take a lantern?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And did you see there was a candle in the lantern?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sufficient to burn for an hour?”
“I don’t know that exactly.”
“Well, three-quarters of an hour?”
“Perhaps so. I didn’t notice exactly how long the candle was.”
“Anyhow, it would have burnt for more than a quarter of an hour?”
“Oh yes.”
“Or for half an hour?”
“I daresay it would.”
“You know it would. Now be careful as to your statements, Mrs.
Pepperill. You are quite sure it would have burnt for three-quarters of
an hour, if not an hour?”
“Perhaps’I cannot say.”
“You can say it would have lasted three-quarters, but are not sure it
would last an hour?”
“I suppose so.”
“It is not the way of candles, like legs of pork, to run away of
themselves, is it?”
“I don’t understand you, sir!”
“I mean, that if you put a candle into a lantern, it will remain in the
lantern till it is burnt out.”
“Unless someone takes it out.”
“Exactly! and when the lantern was brought back by Kate Quarm, was the
candle there?”
“N’n’o.”
“It was not there. It was not burnt out, and it had not run away, eh?”
“I suppose so.”
“Then someone must have removed the candle. This is a point, your
worships, I wish to establish, and that you should observe. Kate Quarm
went out with a lantern in her hand, in which was a piece of candle that
would certainly last three-quarters of an hour, if not an entire hour.
When she returned, no candle was in the socket. I shall call other
witnesses to establish this, and the fact that there were no signs of
the candle having melted away; indeed, the lantern is here. Constable,
please to produce it. If the Bench will kindly look at it, your worships
will perceive that the candle was put in with a piece of brown paper
wrapped about it. The paper is still there. The candle is gone. It was
taken out. I will call the constable presently to testify that he took
charge of the lantern immediately after the event, and that it has not
been tampered with since. I now proceed to ask Mrs. Pepperill how long a
time Kate Quarm was absent after she went out with Mrs. Jane Redmore.
Now, Mrs. Pepperill, pray concentrate your mind and exercise your
memory. How long was Kate absent?”
“What’washing up?” asked Zerah.
“No’we have nothing to do with the washing up. After that, when she went
out with Jane Redmore.”
“I didn’t look at the clock.”
“About how long?”
“I can’t say.”
“Do you think it was half an hour?”
“It might be so.”
“Or less.”
“I really can’t tell.”
“Then she was absent for half an hour at the outside, possibly.”
“I suppose so.”
“You may go now. I shall want you again. I proceed to summon Jane
Redmore.”
This poor woman was in such a nervous condition that she would have
fainted, had she not been provided with a chair. Nothing but what was of
absolute importance could be drawn from her; which was that Kitty had
not accompanied her beyond the gate from the Coombe premises, a distance
of hardly three hundred yards.
“This,” said the solicitor, “is what I require. I will not trouble this
feeble and timorous creature any longer. We have ascertained that the
defendant, Kate Quarm, went out with Mrs. Redmore, under the pretext
that she was going to accompany her home.”
“I do not think this point was established,” said the chairman.
“I beg your worship’s pardon. You are right. The next witness I shall
call will establish the pretext without a doubt. I summon Pasco
Pepperill!”
“Stay a moment’what is this noise, this disturbance in the court?”
called the chairman. “It is not possible for me or my brother
magistrates to hear what is said. Unless the disturbance be allayed
instantly, I shall give orders for the court to be cleared.”
The requisite stillness ensued.
“Now then, Mr. Pepperill, stand forward, take the book, and such
answers,” etc.
Again there ensued a movement among the crowd outside the
rails’exclamations, mutterings, and heaving and tossing, as though the
mass of mankind there densely packed was boiling up from below.
“I insist on order in the court!” called the chairman.
Then Pasco, having kissed the Bible, turned his face to the Bench. He
was elate, had spread his breast, and tossed back his head, a
self-complacent smirk was on his countenance.
“I have felt it my duty,” he said, “to speak’to clear my own self, and
to cut short the career of crime of the girl I have regarded as my
niece.”
Again the agitation among the public; and now through the mob came a
man, elbowing his way, till he had forced himself to the front, and
stood face to face with Pasco Pepperill.
Pasco, disturbed in his pompous address, turned and saw before him’Jason
Quarm!
He put his hand to his head with a gasp, staggered back, and fell
senseless to the ground.