IN WHICH THE SEVERNSHIRE CORONER HOLDS AN
INQUEST.
At noon the next day an inquest was held on the body at “The Magpies,”
the inn nearest Montem Castle--a roadside hostelry that stood back from
the road, as if it had stepped aside for shelter beneath those great
walnut-trees and elms which stretched their umbrageous arms over the
lichen-covered roof. An open space in front was occupied by a pump and
a wide trough, to which waggoners brought their horses, whilst they
sat on the adjacent seat and tossed off brown sparkling ale from small
glasses, which they refilled with a sort of pride from blue foaming
jugs. There was the sign swinging between two bars like a wooden
banner, displaying three magpies in solemn conclave near a wood.
The lichens on the roof had gradually dispersed themselves over the
coping-stones of the old house, and the brown and yellow excrescences
vied with the changing hues of the sheltering trees.
Upon the day mentioned there were unusual signs of life at “The
Magpies.” A crowd of idlers and gossips, men from the corners of
Brazencrook streets, and boys and girls and hulking farm-labourers,
lounged about the house, watching every movement of the police, and the
coroner and the jury, with a dull but observant curiosity. When the
jurymen went to view the body of the deceased man, and the spot where
he was found, the little crowd followed at a respectful distance, and
then came back again, after a walk of nearly three miles, to stare in
at the window where the inquest was held, or drink beer in the tap-room.
The coroner opened the inquiry in a long and judicious address upon the
circumstances of the case, and stated that the superintendent of the
Brazencrook police had been anxious that Lady Verner should be called
upon to give evidence. He regretted, however, that her ladyship, who
was unwell when the dreadful occurrence took place, had been so shocked
by the event that she was now seriously ill, and her medical attendants
were anxious that she should have repose of mind and body. His lordship
had, however, kindly signified his intention of being present; he
believed that he was now in the house, and if so, they would hear his
evidence first.
Lord Verner entered the room opportunely at this moment, with his
lawyer from Brazencrook, and followed by reporters from the adjacent
towns, where the news of a “Dreadful Murder in the Old Ruin of Montem
Castle” had already supplied materials for sundry second editions of
sundry newspapers. There is no more startling illustration of the
rapid rate at which we live in these times than that afforded by the
chronicles of our daily history. The other day, we were grubbing over
the files of an old newspaper which was published weekly, coming out on
Saturdays at noon with a foolscap sheet of postal news and rumours, a
few advertisements, and sundry marriages and deaths; it was the leading
journal of a great city--a city divided by a river, upon which vessels
came and went on their way to America and the East Indies, and other
distant countries. In this Saturday’s paper we came across a paragraph
of local news, to the effect that “We hear that a dreadful murder was
committed in Bedminster, on Wednesday evening;” then followed two or
three lines indicating the manner of the murdered man’s death; and this
was all the information considered necessary for the reader. Bedminster
was really a portion of the city in which the journal was published,
and in the present day that same paper would, between the time of the
murder and the Saturday publication, have reported the fullest details
of the crime, with a description of the scene of the murder, the
antecedents of the dead man, a full report of the inquest and finding
of the jury, and, supposing the criminal captured, a full report of
the examination before the magistrates, and committal, occupying in
the narration of this one case as much type and paper (to say nothing
of writers and printers) as would have published the old journal for
several weeks.
Thus the local newspapers of Severntown, and Brazencrook, and
Avonworth, gave the whole district the speediest and fullest
information relating to the tragedy, with an eloquent and graphic
sketch of the scene by that smart gentleman who “did” the Verner
marriage with the prayer-book service in it.
They told how Lord Verner was the first witness examined, and how his
solicitor, Montagu Masters, Esq. (of the firm of Masters & Filmer of
Brazencrook), watched the proceedings in the interests of the family.
They repeated that story of the deceased’s arrival and his going out
to walk, which is already fully known to our readers. Then they gave
the evidence of Jones the groom, and finally the somewhat remarkable
statement of Lionel Hammerton, which was the most interesting portion
of the inquiry, seeing that the coroner cautioned the Captain in
unusually solemn terms that what he said would be taken down in
writing, and as he was unfortunately with the deceased when Jones came
up, that circumstance might possibly prove inconvenient and troublesome
to him, to say the least.
Mr. Montagu Masters had quite a battle royal over this point with the
coroner; but her Majesty’s representative finally put the lawyer down
by intimating that he was only permitted to be present in this court by
courtesy, and that he (the coroner) would conduct this inquiry in his
own way.
This most effectually prejudiced the minds of the jury against Lionel
Hammerton, who certainly gave his evidence in a hesitating and dubious
manner, which seemed fully to justify the suspicion of the police that
he had murdered the deceased.
In the midst of Lionel’s examination the groom was recalled.
“How long after the Captain gave you his horse was it that you heard
the noise which induced you to go to the ruin?”
“About a quarter of an hour,” was the reply.
“Did the Captain go straight in that direction when he left the stable
yard?”
“He went the shortest road.”
“Was he in the habit of taking a walk in that direction after riding?”
“I can’t say.”
Then the surgeon was recalled.
“The bruise upon the right hand is recent, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Supposing the deceased had shot himself, it would have been almost
impossible that he could have fired the pistol with his left hand?”
“Quite impossible, I should say, and considering the position of the
wound there would have been some little difficulty with the right; but
of course he could have used both hands; the wound is quite compatible
with the supposition of suicide.”
The superintendent of police was also recalled, and he said that at
the place where the deceased gentleman fell there were marks as if a
struggle had taken place, and on searching the body no papers had
been found. Morris, his lordship’s man, had seen the deceased with a
pocket-book, and from the way in which the breast-pocket of his coat
had been dragged open and torn, it would seem as if something (perhaps
the pocket-book, as that could not be found) had been forcibly removed.
He would also venture to point out to the coroner that although the
groom hurried to the spot immediately upon hearing the noise, the
Captain was there before him with the deceased’s head upon his knee. If
he had committed suicide the Captain must have been close to the spot
at the time, and yet he heard voices.
Mr. Masters protested against this police statement.
The coroner said it was not evidence, and he was not taking it down.
Lionel Hammerton said he had no objection to the policeman’s
theorising. He certainly was the first on the spot; and there was blood
upon the coat which he had just been informed the policeman had sent
for to the hall.
It was well Earl Verner had long since left the court and knew nothing
of this, or there would have been a fierce struggle between the leading
authorities.
The points which stood out most prominently in the inquiry were the
facts that the deceased had come to Montem on some business with his
sister the Countess; that in the twilight they walked out to converse;
that Lionel Hammerton, on returning from Brazencrook, instead of going
into the house, goes towards the ruin by the nearest route; that no
more is heard or seen of Lady Verner; that by-and-by a pistol is fired
off, and Hammerton is found supporting the body of the deceased; that
there is evidence of a struggle, though a brief one; that Hammerton
can give no reason for going towards the ruin except that he saw
two figures; that nobody can throw any light upon the nature of the
business between the deceased and his sister; that the visit was
altogether a peculiar one, the deceased leaving his luggage at the
Verner Arms at first, and then sending for it, as though he were not
certain of a kind reception at the Castle; that neither paper nor notes
are found upon him; that his pocket-book is missing, though his watch
and purse, containing gold, remain. If the deceased was murdered the
crime had been one, not prompted suddenly by robbery so much as by
revenge, or a robbery of papers or letters of some kind which might be
more valuable than money.
The inquest was adjourned, and in the evening Lord Verner and his
brother had a long, serious talk in the library; but it consisted
chiefly of speculations about Tallant’s death, and the Earl firmly
believed that he had committed suicide.
“What figures did you see, Lionel?--Her ladyship must have returned
into the house, poor soul, for her maid tells me she had a terrible
headache, and came in very soon after she brought her shawl and hat.”
“No doubt,” said Lionel, “it could not have been her ladyship.”
Poor fellow, what was he to say! “What a tangled thread we weave, when
first we practise to deceive!” One lie led to another; with that awful
suspicion burning in his heart,--and it would not go, despite all his
efforts--Lionel’s chief aim was to shield the Countess.
“You heard voices, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Were you listening to them, or what?”
“I did listen a moment or two.”
“Why did you listen? what did you suspect?”
“I do not know; there are times when we do things the most trivial
without being able to explain why or wherefore.”
“So there are. Your belief that you heard voices, and the statement
that you saw two figures, clearly point to the theory of murder as
against suicide.”
“Yes,” said Lionel.
“How could the murderer have escaped? You were on the spot in an
instant almost, it seems.”
“I was there very quickly.”
“And you saw no one?”
“No, only Tallant on the ground.”
“From what Masters says, there is no doubt that that fool of a
policeman has taken it into his thick head that _you_ killed Richard
Tallant,” said his lordship, in a tone of contemptuous coolness.
“I thought so last evening, and see it clearly to-day,” said Lionel.
“Let him have a care, Lionel, how he tampers with the name and fame of
the house of Verner. By heavens I will punish him! The thing is absurd
on the face of it.”
“I suppose the idea is that a man found by the side of one who is
murdered should be able to give a succinct account of his death.”
“Once a policeman starts a theory of his own respecting any particular
crime, he thinks of nothing else; he follows no clue which does not
support that theory; he rejects all evidence that may tell against it;
his leading idea is that somebody must be apprehended and convicted for
it; and this Brazencrook fellow is a shallow-pated, ambitious booby,
whose fingers are itching to have a distinguished prisoner; he is
anxious to create a sensation,” said the Earl.
And so they continued to talk the affair over, whilst the gossips in
the neighbourhood and throughout the country theorised upon it, and
cleared up the mystery in their own way. Meanwhile, Lady Verner, to all
appearance, continued very ill, and no word concerning recent events
was to be whispered in her hearing; but when there was no one present
but her maid she brightened up and insisted upon hearing of all that
had occurred. Lady Verner was not so ill as she seemed.
At night when the shallow-pated and ambitious policeman, as Earl Verner
called him, was smoking his pipe over his own fire, and relating the
incidents of the day to his admiring wife, an assistant in the shop of
the leading gunsmith of the place knocked at the door and wished to see
the superintendent privately and on particular business.
“I come as an act of duty,” said the young man, “although I know I
shall lose my place by it, for the master dared and forbade me to come
to you.”
“Yes,” said the officer, shutting the door of his private office,
and taking his seat at his desk beneath a long row of handcuffs and
cutlasses.
“Captain Hammerton bought two pistols at our shop to-day.”
“Yes,” said the officer, writing down the words, the name of the
assistant, the name of the master, &c.
“A revolver, and an ordinary pistol.”
“Yes, go on; I will not interrupt you, tell your own story.”
“He bought the ordinary one because it attracted his fancy--the stock
was peculiar. The revolver, he said, he wanted to take to India with
him, and he was going to London in the morning.”
“Going to London in the morning; yes,” said the officer, writing
industriously.
“He bought bullets and powder.”
“Yes,” said the officer.
“That is all; hearing what I did about the inquest, I though it right
in the interest of justice that you should know this.”
“Quite right; did he take the pistols with him?”
“No; we were to send them by Lord Verner’s groom when he passed with
the letters.”
“Oh!” said the officer, “that alters the case. When did the groom
call?”
“Not until this morning.”
“What the deuce is the good of that?” said the officer angrily; for he
was greatly disappointed. He had hoped that the next moment when he
should produce the pistol found in the ruins, the gunsmith’s assistant
would identify it.
“That will do--thank you all the same, though there is nothing much in
it; however it _may_ be useful; if so you shall hear from me again.”
When the officious apprentice had gone, the Brazencrook chief leaned
back in his chair and soliloquised.
“It shows he was thinking of pistols, at any rate--that is something;
he had deadly weapons in his mind. Not much in that perhaps, being
a soldier, but put this and that together. And then about going to
London to-day. Ha! I must get at that point. I’m morally certain he
killed the man, and Lady Verner knows something about it. There was a
quarrel, something about her perhaps; she is pretty and young, and----”
Another knock at the door, and enter a gentleman whom we have seen
before, though a stranger to the chief of the Brazencrook police--Mr.
Bales from Scotland Yard.
The Brazencrook officer was delighted to receive so distinguished a
visitor.
Mr. Bales said he knew something of the murdered man and his
connections, and on making certain representations at head-quarters,
he had come down “on spec,” in fact, “on his own hook.” A large reward
would, no doubt, be offered for the discovery of the murderer, for it
was a case of murder,--nobody in their senses could doubt that--and
Lord Verner would, of course, second the Government efforts to clear up
the mystery.
The local officer said, mysteriously, he was not so sure of that; he
believed he was on the right track; if such should prove to be the
case, of course, he would have the reward, or at any rate the greatest
share of it.
“Certainly,” said Mr. Bales, “certainly; I have not come down here to
rob you, my friend.”
“Well, I think not; you are too great a man; but that is mostly the
little game of the London detectives who come interfering in a thing
like this, ‘on spec,’ as you say.”
“It is not mine, I assure you.”
“Then we will make a bargain.”
“Yes, if you like.”
“Supposing my clue is right, and I get hold of the right man, you lay
no claim to the reward.”
“I consent.”
“And supposing you are the successful hand, you divide the reward with
me.”
“I consent to that also--but it is just possible neither of us may
touch the money; there is generally a third party who brings these
things to light in country districts: somebody comes and gives
information of something that has escaped the police, eh?” said the
London detective, with just a slightly sarcastic smile.
“There will be nothing of that sort in this case,” said the
superintendent, who made up his mind there and then that, supposing a
reward were offered, and that he received the announcement of the same
in the morning, he would, at all risks, apprehend Lionel Hammerton.