The impending trial of Holymead produced almost as much excitement in
staid legal circles as it did among the general public. It was rumoured
that there was a difficulty in obtaining a judge to preside at the trial,
as they all objected to being placed in the position of trying a man who
was well-known to them and with whom most of them had been on friendly
terms. There was a great deal of sympathy for the prisoner among the
judges. Of course, they could not admit that any man had the right to
take the law into his own hands, but they realised that if any wrong done
to an individual could justify this course it was the wrong Sir Horace
Fewbanks had done to an old friend.
When it became known that Mr. Justice Hodson was to preside at the Old
Bailey during the trial of Holymead, legal rumour concerned itself with
statements to the effect that there was now a difficulty in obtaining a
K.C. to undertake the prosecution. When it was discovered that Mr.
Walters, K.C., was to conduct the prosecution, it was whispered that he
had asked to be relieved of the work and had even waited on the
Attorney-General in the matter, but that the latter had told him that he
must put his personal feelings aside and act in accordance with that high
sense of duty he had always shown in his professional career.
In Newgate Street a long queue of people waited for admission to Old
Bailey on the day the trial was to begin. They were inspected by two fat
policemen to decide whether they appeared respectable enough to be
entitled to a free seat at the entertainment in Number One Court. When
the doors opened at 10.15 a.m. the first batch of them were admitted, but
on reaching the top of the stairs, where they were inspected by a
sergeant, they were informed that all the seats in the gallery of Number
One Court had been filled, but that he would graciously permit them to go
to Numbers Two, Three, Four, or Five Courts. Those who were not satisfied
with this generosity could get out the way they had come in and be quick
about it. What the sergeant did not explain was that so many people with
social influence had applied to the presiding judge for permission to be
present at the trial that it had been found necessary to reserve the
gallery for them as well as most of the seats in the body of the court.
Fashionably-dressed ladies and well-groomed men drove up to the main
entrance of the Old Bailey in motors and taxi-cabs. The scene was as busy
as the scene outside a West End theatre on a first night. The services of
several policemen were necessary to regulate the arrival and departure of
taxi-cabs and motor-cars and to keep back the staring mob of disappointed
people who had been refused admission to the court by the fat sergeant,
but were determined to see as much as they could before they went away.
Elderly ladies and young ladies were assisted from smart motor-cars by
their escorts, and greeted their friends with feminine fervour. Some of
the younger ones exchanged whispered regrets, as they swept into the
court, that such a fine-looking man as Holymead should have got himself
into such a terrible predicament.
The legal profession was numerously represented among the spectators in
the body of the court. So many distinguished members of the profession
had applied for tickets of admission that there was little room for
members of the junior bar. It was many years since a trial had created
so much interest in legal circles. When Mr. Justice Hodson entered the
court, followed by no fewer than eight of the Sheriffs of London, those
present in the court rose. The members of the profession bowed slowly in
the direction of His Honour. The prisoner was brought into the dock from
below, and took the seat that was given to him beside one of the two
warders who remained in the dock with him. He looked a little careworn,
as though with sleepless nights, but his strong, clean-shaven face was
as resolute as ever, and betrayed nothing of the mental agony which he
endured. His keen dark eyes glanced quietly through the court, and
though many members of the bar smiled at him when they thought they had
caught his eye, he gave no smile in return. As he looked at Mr. Justice
Hodson, the distinguished judge inclined his head to what was almost a
nod of recognition, but the prisoner looked calmly at the judge as
though he had never seen him before and had never been inside a court in
his life till then.
Among those persons standing in the body of the court were Crewe and
Inspector Chippenfield and Detective Rolfe. Inspector Chippenfield
displayed so much friendliness to Crewe as he drew his attention to the
number of celebrities in court that it was evident he had buried for the
time being his professional enmity. This was because Crewe had allowed
him to appropriate some of the credit of unravelling Holymead's
connection with the crime. As the jury were being sworn in Crewe and
Chippenfield made their way out of court into the corridor. As they were
to be called as witnesses they would not be allowed in court until after
they had given their evidence.
Mr. Walters in his opening address paid tribute to the exceptional
circumstances of the case by some slight show of nervousness. Several
times he insisted that the case was what he termed unique. The prisoner
in the dock was a man who by his distinguished abilities had won for
himself a leading position at the bar, and had been honoured and
respected by all who knew him. It was not the first occasion that a
member of the legal profession had been placed on trial on a capital
charge, though he was glad to say, for the honour of the profession, that
cases of the kind were extremely rare. But what made the case unique was
that it was not the first trial in connection with the murder of Sir
Horace Fewbanks, and that at the first trial when a man named Frederick
Birchill had been placed in the dock, the prisoner now before the court
had appeared as defending Counsel, and by his brilliant conduct of the
defence had materially contributed to the verdict of acquittal which had
been brought in by the jury. Some evidence would be placed before the
jury about the first trial and the conduct of the defence. He ventured to
assert that the jury would find in this evidence some damaging facts
against the prisoner--that they would find a clear indication that the
prisoner had defended Birchill because he knew himself to be guilty of
this murder, and felt an obligation on him to place his legal knowledge
and forensic powers at the disposal of a man whom he knew to be innocent.
At the former trial the prisoner, as Counsel for the defence, had
attempted to throw suspicion on a man named Hill, who had been butler to
the late Sir Horace Fewbanks, but evidence would be placed before the
jury to show that in doing so the prisoner had been smitten by some pangs
of conscience at casting suspicion on a man who he knew was not guilty.
It was not incumbent on the prosecution to prove a motive for the murder,
continued Mr. Walters, though where the motive was plainly proved the
case against the prisoner was naturally strengthened. In this case there
was no doubt about the motive, but the extent of the evidence to be
placed before the jury under that head would depend upon the defence. The
prosecution would submit some evidence on the point, but the full story
could only be told if the defence placed the wife of the prisoner in the
witness-box. It was impossible for the prosecution to call her as a
witness, as English law prevented a wife giving evidence against her
husband. She could, however, give evidence in favour of her husband, and
doubtless the defence would take full advantage of the privilege of
calling her.
The evidence which he intended to call would show that for years past
very friendly relations had existed between the prisoner and the murdered
man. They had been at Cambridge together and had studied law together in
chambers. Their friendship continued after their marriages. The prisoner
had married a second time, and at that time Sir Horace Fewbanks was a
widower. Sir Horace Fewbanks was what was known as a ladies' man, and at
the previous trial prisoner, as defending Counsel, had tried to bring out
that Sir Horace was a man of immoral reputation among women. There was no
doubt that the prisoner, during Sir Horace's absence in Scotland, became
convinced that Sir Horace had been paying attention to his wife. There
was no doubt that, being a man of a jealous disposition, his suspicions
went beyond that. At any rate he wrote a letter to Sir Horace at
Craigleith Hall, where the latter was shooting, asking him to come to
London at once. In order to induce Sir Horace to return, and in order not
to arouse suspicion as to his real object, he concocted a story about a
vacancy in the Court of Appeal Bench to which, it appeared, Sir Horace
Fewbanks desired to be appointed. In this letter, which would be produced
in evidence, the prisoner pretended to be working in Sir Horace's
interests, and offered to meet him on the night of his return at
Riversbrook and let him know fully how matters stood. Sir Horace
apparently wrote to the prisoner making an appointment with him for the
night of the 18th of August. The prisoner kept that appointment, charged
Sir Horace with carrying on an intrigue with his wife, and then shot him.
"That is the case for the prosecution which I will endeavour to establish
to the satisfaction of the jury," said Mr. Walters, in concluding his
speech, "Of course it is impossible to produce direct evidence of the
actual shooting. But I will produce a silent but indisputable witness in
the form of a glove which belonged to the prisoner, that he was present
in the room in which the murder took place. I will produce evidence to
show that the prisoner left his stick behind in the hat-stand in the
hall on the night of the murder. These things prove conclusively that he
left Riversbrook in a state of considerable excitement. The fact that
after the murder was discovered he kept hidden in his own breast the
knowledge that he had been there on that night, instead of going to the
police and, in the endeavour to assist them to detect the murderer of his
lifelong friend, informing them that he had called on Sir Horace, shows
conclusively that he went there on a mission on which he dared not throw
the light of day."
Those witnesses who had given evidence at the police court were called
and repeated their statements. Inspector Seldon was closely
cross-examined by Mr. Lethbridge as to the way in which the dead body was
dressed when he discovered it. He declared that Sir Horace had been
wearing a light lounge suit of grey colour, a silk shirt, wing collar and
black bow tie. Dr. Slingsby's cross-examination was directed to
ascertaining as near as possible the time when the murder was committed,
but this was a point on which the witness allowed himself to be
irritatingly indefinite. The murder might have taken place three or four
hours before midnight on the 18th of August, and on the other hand it
might have taken place any time up to three or four hours after midnight.
Hill, who had not been available as a witness at the police
court--being then on the way back from America in response to a
cablegram from Crewe--reappeared as a witness. He looked much more at
ease in the witness-box than on the occasion when he gave evidence
against Birchill. He had fully recovered from his terror of being
arrested for the murder, and obviously had much satisfaction in giving
evidence against the man who, according to his impression, had tried to
bring the crime home to him.
He gave evidence as to the unexpected return of his master from Scotland
on the 18th of August, and also in regard to the relations between his
master and Mrs. Holymead. On several occasions he had seen his master
kiss Mrs. Holymead, and once he had heard the door of the room in which
they were together being locked.
Two new witnesses were called to testify to the suggestion of the
prosecution that illicit relations had existed between Sir Horace
Fewbanks and Mrs. Holymead. These were Philip Williams, who had been the
dead man's chauffeur, and Dorothy Mason, who had been housemaid at
Riversbrook. The chauffeur gave evidence as to meeting Mrs. Holymead's
car at various places in the country. He formed the opinion from the
first that these meetings between Sir Horace and the lady were not
accidental.
The last of the prosecution's witnesses was the legal shorthand writer
who had taken the official report of the trial of Birchill. In response
to the request of Mr. Walters, he read from his notebook the final
passage in the opening address delivered by the prisoner at that trial as
defending Counsel: "'It is my duty to convince you that my client is not
guilty, or, in other words, to convince you that the murder was committed
before he reached the house. It is only with the greatest reluctance that
I take upon myself the responsibility of pointing an accusing finger at
another man. In crimes of this kind you cannot expect to get anything but
circumstantial evidence. But there are degrees of circumstantial
evidence, and my duty to my client lays upon me the obligation of
pointing out to you that there is one person against whom the existing
circumstantial evidence is stronger than it is against my client.'"
Mr. Lethbridge was unexpectedly brief in his opening address. He
ridiculed the idea that a man like the prisoner, trained in the
atmosphere of the law, would take the law into his own hands in seeking
revenge for a wrong that had been done to him. According to the
prosecution the prisoner had calmly and deliberately carried out this
murder. He had sent a letter to Sir Horace Fewbanks with the object of
inducing him to return to London, and had subsequently gone to
Riversbrook and shot the man who had been his lifelong friend. Could
anything be more improbable than to suppose that a man of the accused's
training, intellect, and force of character, would be swayed by a gust of
passion into committing such a dreadful crime like an immature ignorant
youth of unbalanced temperament? The discovery that his wife and his
friend were carrying on an intrigue would be more likely to fill him with
disgust than inspire him with murderous rage. He would not deny that
accused had gone up to Riversbrook a few hours after Sir Horace Fewbanks
returned from Scotland; he would admit that when the accused sought this
interview he knew that his quondam friend had done him the greatest wrong
one man could do another; but he emphatically denied that the prisoner
killed Sir Horace Fewbanks or threatened to take his life.
His learned friend had asked why had not the prisoner gone to the police
after the murder was discovered and told them that he had seen Sir Horace
at Riversbrook that night. The answer to that was clear and emphatic. He
did not want to take the police into his confidence with regard to the
relations that had existed between his wife and the dead man. He wanted
to save his wife's name from scandal. Was not that a natural impulse for
a high-minded man? The prisoner had believed that in due course the
police would discover the actual murderer, and that in the meantime the
scandal which threatened his wife's name would be buried with the man who
had wronged her. If the prisoner could have prevented it his wife's name
would not have been dragged into this case even for the purpose of saving
himself from injustice. But the prosecution, in order to establish a
motive for the crime, had dragged this scandal into light. He did not
blame the prosecution in the least for that. In fact he was grateful to
his learned friend for doing so, for it had released him from a promise
extracted from him by the prisoner not to make any use of the matter in
his conduct of the case. The defence was that, although the accused man
had gone to Riversbrook on the night of the 18th of August to accuse Sir
Horace Fewbanks of base treachery, he went there unarmed, and with no
intention of committing violence. No threats were used and no shot was
fired during the interview. And in proof of the latter contention he
intended to call witnesses to prove that Sir Horace Fewbanks was alive
after the prisoner had left the house.
The name of Daniel Kemp was loudly called by the ushers, and when Kemp
crossed the court on the way to the witness-box, Chippenfield and
Crewe, who had returned to the court after giving their evidence,
looked at one another.
"He's a dead man," whispered Chippenfield, nodding his head towards the
prisoner, "if this is a sample of their witnesses."
Kemp had brushed himself up for his appearance in the witness-box. He
wore a new ready-made tweed suit; his thick neck was encased in a white
linen collar which he kept fingering with one hand as though trying to
loosen it for his greater comfort; and his hair had been plastered flat
on his head with plenty of cold water. His red and scratched chin further
indicated that he had taken considerable pains with a razor to improve
his personal appearance in keeping with his unwonted part of a
respectable witness in a place which knew a more sinister side of him. As
he stood in the witness-box, awkwardly avoiding the significant glances
that the Scotland Yard men and the police cast at him, he appeared to be
more nervous and anxious than he usually was when in the dock. But Crewe,
who was watching him closely, was struck by the look of dog-like devotion
he hurriedly cast at the weary face of the man in the dock before he
commenced to give his evidence.
He told the court a remarkable story. He declared that Birchill had told
him on the 16th of August that he had a job on at Riversbrook, and had
asked him to join him in it. When Birchill explained the details witness
declined to have a hand in it. He did not like these put-up jobs.
Mr. Lethbridge interposed to explain to any particularly unsophisticated
jurymen that "a put-up job" meant a burglary that had been arranged with
the connivance of a servant in the house to be broken into.
Kemp declared that the reason he had declined to have anything to do with
the project to burgle Riversbrook was that he felt sure Hill would squeak
if the police threatened him when they came to investigate the burglary.
He happened to be at Hampstead on the evening of the 18th of August and
he took a walk along Tanton Gardens to have another look at the place
which Birchill was to break into. It had occurred to him that things
might not be square, and that Hill might have laid a trap for Birchill.
That was about 9.30 p.m. He was just able to catch a glimpse of the house
through the plantation in front of it. The mansion appeared all in
darkness, but while he looked he was surprised to see a light appear in
the upper portion of the house which was visible from the road. He went
through the carriage gates with the intention of getting a closer view of
the house. As he walked along he heard a quick footstep on the gravel
walk behind him, and he slipped into the plantation. Looking out from
behind a tree he could discern the figure of a man walking quickly
towards the house. As he drew near him the man paused, struck a match and
looked at his watch, and he saw that it was Mr. Holymead. Witness's
suspicions in regard to a trap having been laid for Birchill were
strengthened, and he decided to ascertain what was in the wind. He crept
through the plantation to the edge of the garden in front of the house.
From there he could hear voices in a room upstairs. He tried to make out
what was being said, but he was too far away for that. In about half an
hour the voices stopped, and a minute later a man came out of the house
and walked down the path through the garden, and entered the carriage
drive close to where witness was concealed in the plantation. As he
passed him witness saw that it was Mr. Holymead.
About five minutes afterwards the window upstairs in the room where the
voices had come from was opened, and Sir Horace Fewbanks leaned out and
looked at the sky as if to ascertain what sort of a night it was. He was
quite certain that it was Sir Horace Fewbanks. He was well acquainted
with that gentleman's features, having been sentenced by him three years
ago. Sir Horace seemed quite calm and collected. Witness was so surprised
to see him, after having been told by Birchill that he was in Scotland,
that he did not take his eyes off him during the two or three minutes
that he remained at the window, breathing the night air. Sir Horace was
fully dressed. He had on a light tweed suit, and he was wearing a soft
shirt of a light colour, with a stiff collar, and a small black bow tie.
When Sir Horace closed the window witness jumped over the fence back into
the wood and made his way to the Hampstead Tube station with the
intention of warning Birchill that Sir Horace Fewbanks was at home. He
waited at the station over an hour, and as he did not see Birchill he
then made his way home. During the time he was in the garden at
Riversbrook listening to the voices, he heard no sound of a shot. He was
certain that no shot had been fired inside the house from the time the
prisoner entered the house until he left. Had a shot been fired witness
could not have failed to hear it.
There could be no doubt that the effect produced in court by the evidence
of the witness was extremely favourable to the prisoner. Kemp had told a
plain, straightforward story. The fact that he had shown no reluctance in
disclosing in his evidence that he was a criminal and the associate of
criminals seemed to add to the credibility of his evidence. It was felt
that he would not have come to court to swear falsely on behalf of a man
who was so far removed from the class to which he belonged.
While Kemp was giving his evidence, Crewe had despatched a messenger to
his chambers in Holborn for Joe. When the boy returned with the messenger
Kemp was still in the witness-box, undergoing an examination at the hands
of the judge. Sir Henry Hodson seemed to have been impressed by the
witness's story, for he asked Kemp a number of questions, and entered his
answers in his notebook.
"Joe," whispered Crewe, as the boy stole noiselessly behind him, "look at
that man in the witness-box. Have you ever seen him before?"
"Rayther, guv'nor!" whispered the boy in reply. "Why, it's 'im who tried
to frighten me in the loft if I didn't promise to give up watching Mr.
Holymead."
"You are quite certain, Joe?"
"Certain sure, guv'nor. There ain't no charnst of me mistaking a man
like that."
Crewe listened intently to Kemp's evidence, and he watched the man's face
as he swore that he had seen Sir Horace Fewbanks leaning out of the
window after Holymead had left the house. He hastily took out a notebook,
scribbled a few lines on one of the leaves, tore it out, and beckoned to
a court usher.
"Take that to Mr. Walters," he whispered.
The man did so. Mr. Walters opened the note, adjusted his glasses and
read it. He started with surprise, read the note through again, then
turned round as though in search of the writer. When he saw Crewe he
raised his eyebrows interrogatively, and the detective nodded
emphatically.
Mr. Lethbridge sat down, having finished his examination of Kemp. Mr.
Walters, with another glance at Crewe's note, rose slowly in his place.
"I ask Your Honour that I may be allowed to defer until the morning my
cross-examination of this witness," he said. "I am, of course, in Your
Honour's hands in this matter, but I can assure Your Honour that it is
desirable--highly desirable--in the interests of justice that the
cross-examination of the witness should be postponed."
"I protest, Your Honour, against the cross-examination of the witness
being deferred," said Mr. Lethbridge. "There is no justification of it."
"I would urge Your Honour to accede to my request," said Mr. Walters. "It
is a matter of the utmost importance."
"Is your next witness available, Mr. Lethbridge?" asked the judge.
"Surely, Your Honour, you're not going to allow the cross-examination of
this witness to be postponed?" protested Mr. Lethbridge. "My learned
friend has given no reason for such a course."
Sir Henry Hodson looked at the court clock.
"It is now within a quarter of an hour of the ordinary time for
adjournment," he began. "I think the fairest way out of the difficulty
will be to adjourn the court now until to-morrow morning."
There was a loud buzz of conversation when the court adjourned. After
asking Chippenfield and Rolfe to wait for him, Crewe made his way to Mr.
Walters, and, after a few whispered words with that gentleman, Mr.
Mathers, his junior, and Mr. Salter, the instructing solicitor, he
returned to Chippenfield and Rolfe and asked them to accompany him in a
taxi-cab to Riversbrook.
"What do you want to go out there for?" asked Inspector
Chippenfield. "You don't expect to discover anything there this late
in the day, do you?"
"I want to find out whether this man Kemp is lying or telling the truth."
"Of course he is lying," replied the positive police official. "When
you've had as much experience with criminals as I have had, Mr. Crewe,
you won't expect a word of truth from any of them."
"Well, let us go to Riversbrook and prove that he is lying," said Crewe.
"We'll go with you," said Inspector Chippenfield, speaking for Rolfe and
himself. He did not understand how Crewe expected to obtain any evidence
at Riversbrook about the truth or falsity of Kemp's story, but he did not
intend to admit that. "But you can set your mind at rest. No jury will
believe Kemp after we've given them his record in cross-examination."
Rolfe, whose association with Crewe in the case had awakened in him a
keen admiration for the private detective's methods and abilities,
permitted himself to defy his superior officer to the extent of
saying that "the best way to prove Kemp a liar is to prove that his
story is false."
During the drive to Hampstead from the Old Bailey the three men discussed
Kemp and his past record. It was recalled that less than twelve months
ago, while he was serving three years for burglary, his daughter had
provided the newspapers with a sensation by dying in the dock while
sentence was being passed on her. According to Inspector Chippenfield,
who had been in charge of the case against her, she was a stylish,
good-looking girl, and when dressed up might easily have been mistaken
for a lady.
"She got in touch with a flash gang of railway thieves from America,"
said Inspector Chippenfield, helping himself to a cigar from Crewe's
proffered case. "They used to work the express trains, robbing the
passengers in the sleeping berths. She was neatly caught at Victoria
Station in calling for a dressing-case that had been left at the cloak
room by one of the gang. Inside the dressing-case was Lady Sinclair's
jewel case, which had been stolen on the journey up from Brighton. The
thief, being afraid that he might be stopped at Victoria Station when the
loss of the jewel case was discovered, had placed it inside his
dressing-case, and had left the dressing-case at the cloak room. He sent
Dora Kemp for it a few days later, as he believed he had outwitted the
police. But I'd got on to the track of the jewels, and after removing
them from the dressing-case in the cloak room I had the cloak room
watched. When Dora Kemp called for the dressing-case and handed in the
cloakroom ticket, the attendant gave my men the signal and she was
arrested."
"She died of heart disease while on trial, didn't she?" asked Crewe.
"Yes," replied Inspector Chippenfield. "Sir Horace Fewbanks was the
judge. He gave her five years. And no sooner were the words out of his
mouth than she threw up her hands and fell forward in the dock. She was
dead when they picked her up."
"She was as game as they make them," put in Rolfe. "We tried to get her
to give the others away, but she wouldn't, though she would have got off
with a few months if she had. The gang got frightened and cleared out.
They left her in the lurch, but she wouldn't give one of them away."
"It was Holymead who defended her," said Chippenfield. "It was a strange
thing for him to do--leading barristers don't like touching criminal
cases, because, as a rule, there is little money and less credit to be
got out of them. But Holymead did some queer things at times, as you
know. He must have taken up the case out of interest in the girl herself,
for I'm certain she hadn't the money to brief him. And I did hear
afterwards that Holymead undertook to see that she was decently buried."
"Why, that explains it!" exclaims Crewe, in the voice of a man who had
solved a difficulty.
"Explains what?" asked Inspector Chippenfield.
"Explains why her father has taken the risk of coming forward in this
case to give evidence for Holymead. Gratitude for what Holymead had done
for his girl while he was in prison. My experience of criminals is that
they frequently show more real gratitude to those who do them a good turn
than people in a respectable walk of life. Besides, you know what a
sentimental value people of his class attach to seeing their kin buried
decently. If Holymead hadn't come forward the girl would have been buried
as a pauper, in all probability."
"But I don't see that old Kemp is taking much risk," said Inspector
Chippenfield. "He is only perjuring himself, and he is too used to that
to regard it as a risk."
"Don't you think he will be in an awkward position if the jury were to
acquit Holymead?" asked Crewe. "One jury has already said that Sir Horace
Fewbanks was dead when Birchill broke into the house, and if this jury
believes Kemp's story and says Sir Horace was alive when Holymead left
it, don't you think Kemp will conclude that it will be best for him to
disappear? Some one must have killed Sir Horace after Holymead left, and
before Birchill arrived."
"Whew! I never thought of that," said Rolfe candidly.
"Kemp is a liar from first to last," said Inspector Chippenfield
decisively.