THRESK GIVES EVIDENCE
Thresk's fears were justified. Sympathy for Stella Ballantyne had
already begun to wane. The fact that Ballantyne had been found outside
the door of the tent was already assuming a sinister importance. Mrs.
Ballantyne's counsel slid discreetly over that awkward incident. Very
fortunately, as it was now to prove, he did not cross-examine the doctor
from Ajmere at all. But there are always the few who oppose the general
opinion--the men and women who are in the minority because it is the
minority; those whom the hysterical glorification made of Stella
Ballantyne had offended; the austere, the pedantic, the just, the
jealous, all were quick to seize upon this disconcerting fact: Stella
Ballantyne had dragged her dying husband from the tent. It was either
sheer callousness or blind fury--you might take your choice. In either
case it dulled the glow of martyrdom which for a week or two had been so
radiant upon Stella Ballantyne's forehead; and the few who argued thus
attracted adherents daily. And with the sympathy for Stella Ballantyne
interest in the case began to wane too.
The magisterial inquiry threatened to become tedious. The pictures of
the witnesses and the principals occupied less and less space in the
newspapers. In another week the case would be coldly left with a shrug of
the shoulders to the Law Courts. But unexpectedly curiosity was stirred
again, for the day after Thresk had called upon the lawyer, when the case
for the Crown was at an end, Mrs. Ballantyne's counsel, Mr. Travers,
asked permission to recall Baram Singh. Permission was granted, and Baram
Singh once more took his place in the witness-box.
Mr. Travers leant against the desk behind him and put his questions with
the most significant slowness.
"I wish to ask you, Baram Singh," he said, "about the dinner-table on the
Thursday night. You laid it?"
"Yes," replied Baram Singh.
"For how many?"
"For three."
There was a movement through the whole court.
"Yes," said Mr. Travers, "Captain Ballantyne had a visitor that night."
Baram Singh agreed.
"Look round the court and tell the magistrate if you can see here the man
who dined with Captain Ballantyne and his wife that night."
For a moment the court was filled with the noise of murmuring. The usher
cried "Silence!" and the murmuring ceased. A hush of expectation filled
that crowded room as Baram Singh's eyes travelled slowly round the
walls. He dropped them to the well of the court, and even his
unexpressive face flashed with a look of recognition.
"There," he cried, "there!" and he pointed to a man who was sitting just
underneath the counsel's bench.
Mr. Travers leant forward and in a quiet but particularly clear
voice said:
"Will you kindly stand up, Mr. Thresk?"
Thresk stood up. To many of those present--the idlers, the people of
fashion, the seekers after a thrill of excitement who fill the public
galleries and law-courts--his long conduct of the great Carruthers trial
had made him a familiar figure. To the others his name, at all events,
was known, and as he stood up on the floor of the court a swift and
regular movement like a ripple of water passed through the throng. They
leant forward to get a clearer view of him and for a moment there was a
hiss of excited whispering.
"That is the man who dined with Captain and Mrs. Ballantyne on the night
when Captain Ballantyne was killed?" said Mr. Travers.
"Yes," replied Baram Singh.
No one understood what was coming. People began to ask themselves whether
Thresk was concerned in the murder. Word had been published that he had
already left for England. How was it he was here now? Mr. Travers, for
his part, was enjoying to the full the suspense which his question had
aroused. Not by any intonation did he allow a hint to escape him whether
he looked upon Thresk as an enemy or friend.
"You may sit down, sir, now," he said, and Thresk resumed his seat.
"Will you tell us what you know of Mr. Thresk's visit to the Captain?"
Travers resumed, and Baram Singh told how a camel had been sent to the
dâk-house by the station of Jarwhal Junction.
"Yes," said Mr. Travers, "and he dined in the tent. How long did he
stay?"
"He left the camp at eleven o'clock on the camel to catch the night train
to Bombay. The Captain-sahib saw him off from the edge of the camp."
"Ah," said Mr. Travers, "Captain Ballantyne saw him off?"
"Yes--from the edge of the camp."
"And then went back to the tent?"
"Yes."
"Now I want to take you to another point. You waited at dinner?"
"Yes."
"And towards the close of dinner Mrs. Ballantyne left the room?"
"Yes."
"She did not come back again?"
"No."
"No. The two men were then left alone?"
"Yes."
"After dinner was the table cleared?"
"Yes," said Baram Singh, "the Captain-sahib called to me to clear the
table quickly."
"Yes," said Travers. "Now, will you tell me what the Captain-sahib was
doing while you were clearing the table?"
Baram Singh reflected.
"First of all the Captain-sahib offered a box of cheroots to his visitor,
and his visitor refused and took a pipe from his pocket. The
Captain-sahib then lit a cheroot for himself and replaced the box on the
top of the bureau."
"And after that?" asked Travers.
"After that," said Baram Singh, "he stooped down, unlocked the bottom
drawer of his bureau and then turned sharply to me and told me to hurry
and get out."
"And that order you obeyed?"
"Yes."
"Now, Baram Singh, did you enter the room again?"
Baram Singh explained that after he had gone out with the table-cloth he
returned in a few moments with an ash-tray, which he placed beside the
visitor-sahib.
"Yes," said Travers. "Had Captain Ballantyne altered his position?"
Baram Singh then related that Captain Ballantyne was still sitting in
his chair by the bureau, but that the drawer of the bureau was now open,
and that on the ground close to Captain Ballantyne's feet there was a red
despatch-box.
"The Captain-sahib," he continued, "turned to me with great anger, and
drove me again out of the room."
"Thank you," said Mr. Travers, and he sat down.
The prosecuting counsel rose at once.
"Now, Baram Singh," he said with severity, "why did you not mention when
you were first put in the witness-box that this gentleman was present in
the camp that night?"
"I was not asked."
"No, that is quite true," he continued, "you were not asked specifically,
but you were asked to tell all that you knew."
"I did not interfere," replied Baram Singh. "I answered what questions
were asked. Besides, when the sahib left the camp the Captain-sahib
was alive."
At this moment Mr. Travers leaned across to the prosecuting counsel and
said: "It will all be made clear when Mr. Thresk goes into the box."
And once more, as Mr. Travers spoke these words, a rustle of expectancy
ran round the court.
Travers opened the case for the defence on the following morning. He had
been originally instructed, he declared, to reserve the defence for the
actual trial before the jury, but upon his own urgent advice that plan
was not to be followed. The case which he had to put before the
stipendiary must so infallibly prove that Mrs. Ballantyne was free from
all complicity in this crime that he felt he would not be doing his duty
to her unless he made it public at the first opportunity. That unhappy
lady had already, as every one who had paid even the most careless
attention to the facts that had been presented by the prosecution must
know, suffered so much distress and sorrow in the course of her married
life that he felt it would not be fair to add to it the strain and
suspense which even the most innocent must suffer when sent for trial
upon such a serious charge. He at once proposed to call Mr. Thresk, and
Thresk rose and went into the witness-box.
Thresk told the story of that dinner-party word for word as it had
occurred, laying some emphasis on the terror which from time to time had
taken possession of Stephen Ballantyne, down to the moment when Baram
Singh had brought the ash-tray and left the two men together, Thresk
sitting by the table in the middle of the room and Ballantyne at his
bureau with the despatch-box on the floor at his feet.
"Then I noticed an extraordinary look of fear disfigure his face," he
continued, "and following the direction of his eyes I saw a lean brown
arm with a thin hand as delicate as a woman's wriggle forward from
beneath the wall of the tent towards the despatch-box."
"You saw that quite clearly?" asked Mr. Travers.
"The tent was not very brightly lit," Thresk explained. "At the first
glance I saw something moving. I was inclined to believe it a snake and
to account in that way for Captain Ballantyne's fear and the sudden
rigidity of his attitude. But I looked again and I was then quite sure
that it was an arm and hand."
The evidence roused those present to such a tension of excitement and to
so loud a burst of murmuring that it was quite a minute before order was
restored and Thresk took up his tale again. He described Ballantyne's
search for the thief.
"And what were you doing," Mr. Travers asked, "whilst the search was
being made?"
"I stood by the table holding the despatch-box firmly in my hands as
Ballantyne had urgently asked me to do."
"Quite so," said Mr. Travers; and the attention of the court was now
directed to that despatch-box and the portrait of Bahadur Salak which it
contained. The history of the photograph, its importance at this moment
when Salak's trial impended, and Ballantyne's conviction of the extreme
danger which its possessor ran--a conviction established by the bold
attempt to steal it made under their very eyes--was laid before the
stipendiary. He sent the case to trial as he was bound to do, but the
verdict in most people's eyes was a foregone conclusion. Thresk had
supplied a story which accounted for the crime, and cross-examination
could not shake him. It was easy to believe that at the very moment when
Thresk was saying goodbye to Captain Ballantyne by the fire on the edge
of the camp the thief slipped into the marquee, and when discovered by
Ballantyne either on his return or later shot him with Mrs. Ballantyne's
rifle. It was clear that no conviction could be obtained while this story
held the field and in due course Mrs. Ballantyne was acquitted. Of
Thresk's return to the tent just before leaving the camp nothing was
said. Thresk himself did not mention it and the counsel for the Crown had
no hint which could help him to elicit it.
Thus the case ended. The popular heroine of a criminal trial loses, as
all observers will have noticed, her crown of romance the moment she is
set free; and that good fortune awaited Stella Ballantyne. Thresk called
the next day upon Jane Repton and was coldly told that Stella had already
gone from Bombay. He betook himself to her solicitor, who was cordial but
uncommunicative. The Reptons, it appeared, were responsible to him for
the conduct of the case. He had not any knowledge of Stella Ballantyne's
destination, and he pointed to a stack of telegrams and letters as
confirmation of his words.
"They will all go up to Khamballa Hill," he said. "I have no
other address."
The next day, however, a little note of gratitude came to Thresk through
the post. It was unsigned and without any address. But it was in Stella
Ballantyne's handwriting and the post-mark was Kurrachee. That she did
not wish to see him he could quite understand; Kurrachee was a port from
which ships sailed to many destinations; he could hardly set out in a
blind search for her across the world. So here, it seemed, was that
chapter closed. He took the next steamer westwards from Bombay, landed at
Brindisi and went back to his work in the Law Courts and in Parliament.