BERNARD'S FRIENDS
The report of the murder caused great excitement in London. It seemed
terrible that so old a man, and a titled man at that, should be murdered
in his own house and by his profligate grandson. The general opinion was
that Bernard should not only be hanged, but drawn and quartered, as his
crime amounted to parricide. But this vengeful demand was made only by
the extreme people, and the newspapers were on the whole very fair in
their statements. Although it seemed quite certain that young Gore was
guilty, yet the journals gave him the benefit of the doubt. Not till
after the inquest did any newspaper venture to state that the man had
really committed the crime. But this was as it should be, if the fair
play instinct of the English race is to be lived up to.
Durham attended the inquest as Sir Simon's lawyer and executor, and Miss
Plantagenet attended it with him. She saw the solicitor only for a few
minutes and they had little time to exchange opinions. But Durham
assured Miss Berengaria that he was certain Bernard was innocent, upon
which the old gentlewoman clapped him on the back. Her good opinion was
strengthened at the inquest by the sturdy way in which the lawyer
maintained this point.
Beryl was also present with Inspector Groom. He looked pale and somewhat
worried, and when his eyes fell on the withered, resolute face of Miss
Berengaria, he winced, knowing she was a firm friend to his cousin. As
yet the body of the young man had not been found, and both Durham and
Miss Plantagenet were certain that Bernard was still alive. But the
general opinion was that he had been drowned while escaping. Mrs. Gilroy
was also present with Lucy, and these sat in the body of the court near
Miss Berengaria. That old dame knew well that the housekeeper was no
friend to the accused man, but she was not certain as regards Lucy. As
Miss Randolph was engaged to Beryl, whom Miss Berengaria disliked
heartily, she was prepared to think badly of the girl, going by the
proverb that like draws to like. She therefore waited to hear Lucy's
evidence before speaking to her, and although she was quite near her
never turned her head to look or make any sign of recognition.
Inspector Groom, who was called first, detailed how he had been summoned
in to see the dead body of the baronet, and related what evidence he had
gathered, and gave also the names of the witnesses he proposed to call.
Amongst these were Jane and the cook, also the page, for these three
domestics had frequently seen the soldier who had courted Jane, and who
was believed to be Bernard Gore. Durham, on the authority of Bernard,
did not believe this, but he waited his time before contradicting the
evidence.
After Groom came a doctor, who deposed to having examined the body, and
gave it as his opinion that the deceased had been strangled some time
after ten o'clock. Before being strangled he had been rendered
unconscious by chloroform, thus had fallen an easy victim to the
assassin. Mention was made of the bandana handkerchief with which the
strangulation had been effected, and it was produced in court; but the
handkerchief steeped in chloroform which had been bound round the mouth
was missing. It was a white one according to the evidence of the
housekeeper, and had been loosened from the mouth by Bernard himself
when she brought him up to look on his victim. Groom expressed annoyance
at this, as the handkerchief was an important piece of evidence. Being
white it could not have belonged to the deceased, who used only colored
bandana handkerchiefs. Therefore it was probable that the assassin had
used his own, and the name on the corner would have settled the question
beyond doubt. But the handkerchief was lost, and there was no more to be
said. Groom hoped to prove Gore's guilt by the evidence of his other
witnesses.
Julius Beryl deposed that Bernard and Sir Simon were at variance, and
Mrs. Gilroy gave evidence about the quarrel which had taken place at the
Hall when the young man had been turned away. She swore that Bernard
then made use of threatening language and had hinted he would throw his
grandfather out of the window. She also explained the cause of the
quarrel and the name of Alice was mentioned, much to the wrath of Miss
Plantagenet. Afterwards the housekeeper went on to state that Bernard
had visited in Crimea Square. She had never seen him, as he was always
smuggled out of sight by Jane when she was heard approaching the
kitchen. But on the night of the murder Gore had presented himself at
the door after ten o'clock and had intimated that Sir Simon desired to
see him, having sent down a message to the kitchen to that effect.
Coroner: "Who carried the message?"
Mrs. Gilroy: "The page, William. Mr. Gore was alarmed and left the house
at once, refusing to come up. Afterwards he had apparently changed his
mind, for he came to the door. I took him up to Sir Simon and left them
alone."
Coroner: "Did you see the meeting?"
Mrs. Gilroy: "No. I pushed Mr. Gore into the room then went down to
wait. But I think Sir Simon was disposed to be friendly. Mr. Gore
remained upstairs for about fifteen minutes, then left the house
hurriedly. I saw him go out of the door. I called after him. He did not
answer. I then ran upstairs, and found Sir Simon dead. I came down again
and ran out in pursuit of Mr. Gore, crying out, 'Murder!' He was almost
on the doorstep and came into the house with me. He denied that he had
killed his grandfather and loosened the two handkerchiefs. Then the
police came and he escaped."
She persisted in her statements, and said calmly that young Gore had
certainly killed the old man. At the interview at the Hall, she had
heard him use the word "strangle," and Sir Simon had been murdered in
that way.
Lucy Randolph also gave evidence as to the quarrel. "Bernard had a fiery
temper," she said, weeping, "and when Sir Simon spoke badly of Miss
Malleson, he threatened to throw Sir Simon out of the window. I did not
hear him use the word strangle. I never saw him when he came to the
kitchen at Crimea Square, and it was only two days before the murder
that Mrs. Gilroy recognized him by the description given by the
housemaid. I am quite friendly with Bernard."
This evidence led to that of Jane, the housemaid. She was shown a
photograph of Gore and swore positively that it was the face of the
young soldier who had courted her. Before Sir Simon came to Crimea
Square she had met him in the Park. He was in the uniform of the
newly-formed Imperial Yeomanry. He made love to her, and asked if he
might come to the house. He also seemed to be very inquisitive about Sir
Simon. He came many times, and was introduced to the cook. Also William,
the page, saw him. He called himself Bernard, nothing more, and did not
make use of his name of Gore. Whenever Mrs. Gilroy was heard coming he
always hid himself. He seemed afraid to meet her. Both witness and cook
connived at the concealment as they feared the rebuke of the
housekeeper. On the night of the crime a message came from Sir Simon by
the page, William, asking Bernard to step upstairs. He displayed great
alarm, and went away at once, saying he might return to see Sir Simon
after ten. Witness gave other evidence, but the important point was,
that she identified the photograph as that of Bernard Gore. Also the
name was the same.
The cook and the page also identified the photograph as that of Mr.
Gore. Evidence was then given by an officer of the Imperial Yeomanry as
to Gore calling himself Bernard alone. He was known as Corporal Bernard.
On the night of the murder he had obtained leave of absence to dine with
a friend and had left the barracks before five. It was between five and
six, according to the cook, that Bernard was in the kitchen. Bernard,
added the officer, was not expected back till close on midnight. Since
then nothing had been heard of him.
Durham then stepped into the box and stated that Gore had dined with him
at his house on Camden Hill. There was another mutual friend present.
Bernard had arrived at seven at the house and had left it at ten
o'clock. Witness produced Sir Simon's letter stating that Gore was
courting the housemaid Jane. But Durham swore that Bernard had denied
this, and said that he had not been near the house. "Indeed," added the
witness, "he did not know the whereabouts of the house till I told him."
Coroner: "Then he must have gone from your house direct to Crimea
Square."
Durham: "I can't understand why he should do so. He had no intention of
going, and certainly he had no idea of killing Sir Simon. I am quite
convinced that he is innocent."
This expression produced incredulous smiles, as by this time everyone
present was certain that Gore was the culprit. Thanks to Durham's
representations Dick West (_alias_ Lord Conniston) was not called. It is
needless to say that the real name of this witness was not known. Had it
been public the Coroner would have doubtless insisted on his production,
if only to swell the scandal of the case by the addition of a title.
In summing up the Coroner was quite on the side of the prosecution and
public opinion was with him. He pointed out that the evidence of the
cook, the housemaid, the page and the officer all showed that Bernard
Gore and Corporal Bernard were one and the same. Also there was the
evidence of Mrs. Gilroy, who opened the door at ten o'clock to the man
himself. Without doubt Gore was the person who had called to see his
grandfather. As to the motive for the commission of the crime, the jury
could see for themselves that there was a strong one. Mr. Beryl's
evidence showed that a bitter quarrel existed, and this was confirmed
both by Miss Randolph and Mrs. Gilroy. Even the word "strangled" had
been used, and in that way Sir Simon had met with his death. Without
doubt Gore, furious at being disinherited, had called to see Sir Simon,
to see if he could be reinstated. Doubtless, as both had fiery tempers,
a quarrel had taken place, and then the younger man, having rendered the
older one unconscious by means of chloroform, had murdered him. It was
certainly inexplicable that he should have returned to the house, but
then the jury must take into consideration that perhaps Gore thought
such a bold course might prove his innocence. Finally, his escape showed
that he was guilty, as had he been an innocent man, he would have faced
the matter out. It would seem that the criminal was dead. He had fallen
into the hands of God, and thus had not escaped punishment. But on the
facts before them the jury would have to give their verdict.
Biased both by the evidence and by the Coroner's speech, the jury
brought in a verdict of guilty against Bernard Gore. Durham expected the
verdict and so did Miss Plantagenet, but both of them, being Bernard's
firm friends, felt a pang when they heard him thus condemned of wilful
murder.
"Fools," said Miss Berengaria, as she drove back in her brougham with
Durham to the office of the lawyer.
"I don't think that," expostulated Durham. "Under the circumstances the
jury could hardly bring in a different verdict."
"You know that Bernard is innocent," snapped the lady.
"Certainly! But on the evidence before them--"
"A fig for the evidence!" interrupted Miss Berengaria. "I go by my own
knowledge of the boy. He wouldn't kill a fly."
"Ah! But you see, the men on the jury never met Bernard."
Finding the lawyer too strong for her, Miss Berengaria changed the
subject, being determined not to acknowledge defeat. "Have you heard
from young Gore?" she asked.
"No. He may be drowned for all I know."
"For all you know, and you know nothing."
"More's the pity, Miss Plantagenet. Did I know anything I might be able
to satisfy myself that Gore is alive."
"Of course he is alive."
"On what ground do you say that?" asked Durham, surprised.
"On the grounds of common sense. Bernard is not the man to die when his
living is needed to prove his innocence."
This was so truly a feminine argument that Durham, with a shrug, held
his tongue. "There's no more to be said," he remarked.
"I know that," snapped Miss Berengaria in a bad humor. "I am quite upset
by all the rubbish those fools have been talking. What's to be done
next?"
"I shall go down to Gore Hall and read the will."
"Ha!" said the old lady, brightly. "Can you do that until you are sure
of the death of Bernard?"
"Yes. He may be dead after all--"
"He isn't, I tell you."
"Then it is all the better he should be thought to be so," said Durham,
giving up the point in the face of this firm opposition.
"Why?" asked Miss Berengaria promptly.
"Because no search will be made for Gore should he be alive and in
hiding. Yet I fear Beryl will search."
"I don't see why he should. Oh, I see what you mean. Sir Simon, the
horrid old--Well, we'll say nothing about that. But he has left the
money to Beryl, after disinheriting Bernard for keeping faith with my
poor Alice."
"Not exactly that," said Durham, hesitating. "I can't tell you the
contents of the will, Miss Plantagenet, as--"
"I know," she snapped. "You needn't tell me that. I'll come to the Hall
and hear it read. But, of course, I know it already."
"In that case there's no more to be said," replied the solicitor,
suppressing a smile. Miss Berengaria saw it.
"Ha!" said she, sharply and pondering. "So Bernard's not disinherited
after all."
"I never said so."
"You smiled. That's quite enough for me. 'A nod's as good as a wink to a
blind horse.' Not that I'm a horse or blind. Thank God I have my
eyesight and can read print with glasses. Well, keep your professional
secrets, but tell me this: Will Beryl--the deuce take him--hunt for
Bernard?"
"Not if he thinks he is drowned, as is probable," said Durham, rather
surprised at hearing strong language from the lips of the lady.
"And if he thinks otherwise?"
"He will certainly hunt," replied the lawyer determinedly.
"Ha!" said Miss Berengaria, rubbing her nose. "So that's it, is it?"
"What do you mean, Miss Plantagenet?"
"That Bernard has not been disinherited. That old scamp--no, we must
talk better of him--that the good old man who is dead repented and left
the money to his rightful heir. What a joke!" Miss Berengaria chuckled.
"There! there!" she went on, catching Durham's eyes. "It's all right.
You have told me nothing. I can guess. Well, well, we must wait till the
will is read. Then we shall see what is to be done to prove Bernard's
innocence."
"That will be a hard task," said Durham, with a sigh; then added, with
some little hesitation, "Miss Plantagenet, should Beryl make advances to
you in the way of friendship receive them."
"Hum," said the lady. "I detest the fellow."
"But for Bernard's sake--"
"What plan have you in your head?" she asked sharply and peering into
his troubled face.
"None. But I think that after the reading of the will--"
Miss Plantagenet chuckled. "After the reading--well?"
"Beryl may make advances to you."
"I will receive them. But if he thinks I will tell him where Bernard is
to be found he is mistaken."
"You don't know where he is, or if he is alive," said Durham, astonished
to find how quickly she fathomed his thoughts.
"True enough. But I will know before many days are over my head. I quite
expect that Bernard will communicate with Alice, and of course she will
tell me. As Beryl will find that the money is left to--"
"I did not say that," interrupted Durham, quickly, as the brougham
stopped at the office door.
"To Bernard," went on Miss Berengaria, coolly, "he will try and learn if
he is dead or alive. If dead he will--no, I can't say what he will do as
I don't know if the money, failing Bernard, is left to him. But if he
thinks Bernard is alive he will hunt him down so as to get the money."
Durham stepped out of the brougham rather afraid of the old dame. She
was so clever that she seemed to read his most secret thoughts. He was
glad the drive was at an end, and held out his hand to say good-bye. To
his surprise and vexation Miss Berengaria stepped out at his heels. "I'm
coming in to talk," she said, and marched up the steps. "I go down
to-night to Hurseton, and I want to arrange what is to be done. Not a
word, young man. I am Bernard's friend and so are you. If we don't
combine it's all up with the poor fool." Durham followed the energetic
lady with a feeling of helplessness, not knowing very well how to get
rid of her. And he had particular reasons for not having her in the
office. Conniston was coming to see him, and a meeting between him and
his aunt might be productive of trouble. Not that Miss Plantagenet was
his aunt, as she was only a distant relative. But she always styled
herself so, and would answer to no other term. Durham regretted that he
had accepted the lady's offer to be driven to his office. But it was too
late by this time, for Miss Berengaria was in the room. And in the room
also sat Lord Conniston, now out of uniform, and looking much excited.
"Ha!" said Miss Plantagenet, not recognizing the young man, "and who is
this?" She turned to Durham, who shot past her, making a sign of silence
to his friend.
"A client of mine. Will you leave us for a moment, Conniston?"
The name slipped out before he was aware, and he could have stamped with
vexation to see how quickly Miss Berengaria grasped the situation. With
a grim smile she looked at the astonished young man. "So you are Dick,"
she said looking at him through a double eyeglass. "I haven't seen you
since you made yourself sick in my garden. Bernard told Alice by letter
that he met you. Where are you staying?"
"I don't understand," stammered Conniston, while Durham, giving up Miss
Plantagenet as impossible, sat shuffling his papers.
"You ought not to be dense. Don't you remember me boxing your ears?"
Conniston burst out laughing. "Oh! by Jove! It's Cousin Berengaria."
"Aunt Berengaria," reproved Miss Plantagenet, giving him her hand. "I
don't like league-long names. Come and sit down and tell me all about
yourself."
"Miss Plantagenet," said Durham, hastily. "Lord Conniston and I have met
to talk of Bernard."
"Then I'll form a third," said the old lady, sitting. "Dick--I shall
call you Dick," she interpolated--"you are Bernard's friend, as his
letter to Alice was all about you. Are you going to desert him?"
"No," said Conniston, taking her entirely into his confidence. "I have
chucked the service to see him through his trouble."
"Chucked what service?"
"The army. I was going to the front. But I'll stop till I prove the
innocence of Bernard, Aunt Berengaria."
"You don't know that he is alive, Conniston," said the lawyer.
"Ah, but I do," replied Dick. "Here's a letter from Bernard. He is safe
and sound hiding at Cove Castle."