THE APPROACHING HOUR
In response to the bell, Jill and Lady Porter quickly entered the
room, accompanied by a maid. They attended to Lady Evenden, and very
soon signs of returning consciousness appeared, to the great relief of
Mr. Benson who, in truth, had been frightened greatly at the effect of
his words. With returning consciousness, memory also returned; and,
Lady Evenden had barely opened her eyes when a shadow passed over her
face, and she gave a little shudder.
Jill looked at Mr. Benson as if to suggest that the lawyer was to
blame for her mistress’s distress. But very quickly Lady Evenden,
making a visible effort, spoke:
“How very stupid of me!” she exclaimed. “Forgive me, Millie,” she
begged Lady Porter. “You must leave me with Mr. Benson for a few
minutes; we have some business to discuss that my absurd attack
interrupted.”
“I think perhaps it would be better to leave it over,” began Mr.
Benson.
But Lady Evenden said: “No, no! I see the necessity of getting that
matter put in order.” To Jill and Lady Porter, she added, “Do you
mind?” And, with words of advice to the deathly white Lady Evenden not
to overtax her strength, they left the room. As soon as they had gone,
Lady Evenden leant forward.
“What do you know of Laidlaw?” she asked.
“Precious little,” said Mr. Benson. “But, my dear lady, I didn’t come
here for you to question me about Dr. Laidlaw--I came to question you.
If you are well enough, mark you; if not, we will leave the matter
over.”
“No, I am quite well enough,” said Lady Evenden, “but I simply cannot
discuss Dr. Laidlaw with you, Mr. Benson--I cannot.”
“The time may shortly arise when you will have to discuss him with
others, Lady Evenden. I would spare you that; but, you must try to be
strong enough to tell me all there is to know about him,” said Mr.
Benson gravely.
“Whatever do you mean? Do tell me, Mr. Benson--you--you frighten me.”
Lady Evenden again began to show traces of great agitation, and Mr.
Benson glanced towards the bell.
“I say, Lady Evenden,” he protested, “I would far rather adjourn this
talk until such time as you feel well enough. I must ask you certain
questions, and I simply must have replies. But, I will not do that at
risk of more of those attacks which, I am convinced, must be most
dangerous for you--and distressing.”
“What is to be said will be said now,” the lady returned firmly. “Why
is it suddenly important that you want to know all about my friends?
What do you mean that I may shortly have to make statements about
him?”
“As you will,” said the old lawyer with a lift of his bushy eyebrows.
“Well, now, to let you realize that I know a good deal, let me tell
you that Frank has informed me of all that Jack told him with relation
to the death of John Gough, your first husband. Now wait just a
minute”--for Lady Evenden was on the point of interrupting, but she
stopped at the old man’s imperative gesture. “Now it doesn’t need me
to tell you that neither Frank nor I believe, for a single second,
that you were in any sense responsible for that. On the contrary, we
both feel as everyone else must feel, that you had a terrible
experience, and were in no sense whatever responsible either for the
late Mr. Gough’s illness, or his death.
“I must point out here that even Jack, you know, when he was
discussing this matter with Frank on the night of his death, made his
position perfectly clear. He told Frank that not for a second did he
impute any evil to you, but he rather censured you for two things. One
was that you had not taken Sir Michael into your confidence, and the
other was that you received Dr. Laidlaw here--almost clandestinely
received the man with whose name yours could be coupled by
scandal-mongers in connection with that affair at Loch Lomond.
“Now then”--the old lawyer vigorously blew his nose--“now then, my
dear lady, you know this won’t do. You must have no secrets from me.
Now come along and tell me exactly why you allow that little man to
have private interviews?”
“I can tell you nothing,” she replied with trembling lips, but with a
firm look in her eye. “I thank you for your confidence in me--and oh,
Mr. Benson, believe me, it isn’t misplaced; but I can tell you
nothing.”
Mr. Benson’s face indicated undisguised exasperation. He was about to
speak when Lady Evenden spoke again.
“Jack believed that, did he? What you tell me, I mean--that I was
innocent of that awful thing?” And as the lawyer nodded, she
continued; “I’m very glad to hear you say so--but I don’t think he
did.”
“But, my dear lady,” said Mr. Benson. “I have Frank’s word for it. He
tells me that Jack was far more concerned about protecting your honor
and preserving your good name from scandal than he was about anything
else. He told Frank that he didn’t take second place to anyone in his
love and regard for you. He was primarily concerned to collaborate
with Frank to stop any scandal and to protect you. The story, coming
to him as it did from outside the family, was a shock to him, as was
the appearance of Dr. Laidlaw when his mind was distressed beyond
description at the loss of his father. It was that which led him to
consult Frank.”
As the lawyer talked, Lady Evenden watched him with wide open eyes,
then, with apparent irrelevance, she asked:
“Frank will be safe, won’t he? You said he would be safe, you know,
Mr. Benson.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Benson. “But I’m coming to that. Now, look here.
Supposing Dr. Laidlaw were put into a tight corner, what could he say
to your detriment? What could he do to you?”
“Oh, do stop talking about Dr. Laidlaw, Mr. Benson,” she entreated. “I
am quite sure that Dr. Laidlaw would never say anything to my
detriment.”
“Well, now, look here.” Mr. Benson stood over her, and looked down
with severity in his keen eyes as he drew an old chased silver
snuffbox from his waistcoat pocket and took a pinch before he
continued. Then, speaking in his gravest tones, he said:
“In order to establish the innocence of your son, it is quite possible
that I may have to call Dr. Laidlaw. Now, he was seen to enter the
Prior’s Room on the night of the murder, from outside, too, by means
of the secret passage. I shall not hesitate to call witnesses to prove
that, Lady Evenden, and I personally believe that the establishment of
that probably will precede the appearance of Dr. Laidlaw in the dock
on charge of murdering Jack.”
If Lady Evenden’s face was pale before, it became positively ghastly
as the lawyer proceeded. Fear--stark, unqualified fear--was depicted
on her mobile face. She gasped and appeared to be on the point of
fainting again; but, with a supreme effort, she rallied. Her voice was
a hoarse whisper when she next spoke.
“You--must never do--that,” she declared with tragic earnestness.
“Never!” she repeated.
“Not even to save your son?” Mr. Benson asked with uplifted eyebrows.
“Oh, do stop!” she begged. “You said he was safe.”
“I know, I did,” agreed the lawyer with exasperation, “but only so far
as I am able to save him. Do you mean to say that you would endanger
your son’s life rather than call this doctor? What are you thinking
of, my dear lady? Look here, if the man is holding something over you,
let me know what it is, and I’ll deal with him. Give me your
confidence, my dear lady, give me your confidence.”
“I cannot--I cannot,” she moaned. “Don’t ask me--I cannot.”
“What about if you must?” Mr. Benson looked like a figure of
inexorable fate as he stood insisting over her.
“Then I’ll die.” Promptly, defiantly, came the words. And it seemed
that the lady gathered courage to defy where she lacked the courage to
confide. For several minutes they stood there. Lady Evenden had risen
on her last utterance.
“Well, for the moment, we can get no further, my lady,” Mr. Benson
declared with a resigned shrug of his shoulders. “And it is useless
for me to remain longer distressing you. I will bid you good-day.”
“But you’re not going?” she inquired anxiously.
“No, my place is here. I shall be within call,” he said. “Think over
what I have said, my dear lady; think carefully. Secrets are safe with
me, and I might be able to help you more than you dream of.”
Lady Evenden stepped impulsively forward and proffered her hand, which
the lawyer took, and for a moment it seemed as if she were about to
say something. Then she changed her mind, and with a muttered “Thank
you” she went back to the couch, and Mr. Benson left the room.
Though the most exhaustive inquiries were made by the private
detectives whom Mr. Benson employed, the weeks went by and the trial
approached without a trace of Dr. Laidlaw being found.
Almost every day Mr. Benson went to see Frank in his cell, and every
week he appeared before the magistrates. At last the police court
proceedings ended, and Frank was committed to take his trial at the
next Norwich assizes.
The decision was not arrived at automatically; for, a full bench of
magistrates sat, and, after hearing the full police case, they asked
Sir Courtney Caldecott, K.C., if he intended to open the case, for the
defense, in that court.
Bearing in mind that on a murder charge a committal was almost
inevitable, and that there remained little time before the winter
assize, Sir Courtney decided to save time by reserving the case for
the defense, and said so.
The magistrates adjourned to a room behind the court, and remained
there for three hours. As the minutes developed into hours, Sir
Courtney turned to Mr. Benson, who sat beside him.
“What’s the betting that they don’t commit?” he asked.
“I was just thinking the same myself,” said Mr. Benson. “He certainly
has a lot of sympathy here. But, on a charge of this gravity I don’t
think they would take the responsibility of deciding that there was no
case for trial, do you?”
“Well, I don’t know,” replied Sir Courtney thoughtfully. “I’ll tell
you this much, if they stay away much longer I’ll begin to think we
made a blunder in not opening our defense and giving them a chance to
throw the case out.”
Mr. Benson stroked his chin. His keen eyes kept straying to the door
through which the magistrates must return. Every now and then he left
the court, to telephone to Evenden Priory, to let Lady Evenden know
how things progressed. He positively got tired of having to say
constantly that the magistrates were still considering the committal.
Ultimately they returned, and the chairman announced the decision of
the court that, Frank Gough will be, on the finding of acceptable
sureties, committed on bail, to take his trial at the forthcoming
winter assize for the murder of the late Sir John Evenden.
Instantly there was a flutter in the court. Sir Courtney turned to Mr.
Benson, and Mr. Benson looked back his surprise. Bail! and in a murder
case! The Crown prosecutor, Mr. Assidell, K.C., was on his feet in an
instant, purple of face.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “Gentlemen, with very great respect, and with
due appreciation of the excellent character hitherto borne by the
prisoner, I am bound to point out that your proceeding is most
irregular. I am not going to say that it is entirely without
precedent; but, in an ordinary case of wilful murder, as this is, it
certainly is without precedent.
“Magistrates have used discretion in the case of a girl charged with
the murder of an infant, but even then they appoint hospital or
workhouse authorities the safe custody of the prisoner. I feel it my
duty to tell you, gentlemen, that, should you persist in offering bail
in this case, I should have to refer the matter to the King’s Bench. I
cannot accept--the Public Prosecutor cannot accept--the responsibility
of conducting a prosecution on the capital charge if the prisoner,
charged with wilful murder, is to be given an opportunity of
absconding.”
“Our finding is not a unanimous one.” The interruption came from an
old magistrate sitting towards the end of the bench. Sir Robson Tyndal
was an old gentlemen of very definite opinions, and not afraid to air
them.
“Exactly,” said Mr. Assidell, K.C., misunderstanding. “I am sure there
must be amongst you those who take my view of the matter.”
“Excuse me, sir,” interrupted Sir Robson, “we don’t take your view of
the matter, at all. What I mean to say is that our decision to commit
for trial is not a unanimous one. There are some of us here who are
bitterly disappointed that the learned counsel for the defense has not
thought fit to give us a chance to discharge a young man whom we
believe to be innocent--and, when the question of bail arises, well,
we intend to exercise our authority, and you can go to the King’s
Bench or any other bench. At present you address this bench--and I
wish I were chairman this year, that’s all.” Sir Robson finished with
a vigorous little nod which gave Mr. Assidell to understand that, had
he been chairman, he would have had some one more difficult to deal
with. Several other magistrates nodded their approval of their
outspoken colleague. But the chairman, Mr. Deerham, of Deerham Grange,
was palpably annoyed.
“I am quite sure Sir Robson does not infer----” he began when Sir
Robson interrupted again.
“Certainly not, sir, certainly not. I beg your pardon sincerely. I was
irritated for the moment that a King’s Counsel should come down from
London to dictate to this bench!”
“It is far from being a case of my dictating to you, gentlemen,” said
the unhappy Mr. Assidell. “I am merely performing my duty--I cannot do
less. It is my duty to protest against the admittance to bail of a man
charged with wilful murder. If I had thought that local feeling would
prejudice this bench, I would have instituted the proceedings outside
your jurisdiction.”
“We will reconsider the position,” announced the chairman, rising.
“I won’t reconsider mine,” snapped the defiant Sir Robson Tyndal, with
a dark look at Mr. Assidell. The magistrates filed out again.
“What do you think of that?” asked Mr. Benson triumphantly.
“Wonderful,” replied Sir Courtney with a smile. “If we get the same
mentality at the trial we’ll walk home.”
“They’re all members of the Grand Jury,” announced Mr. Benson, with a
look round the court. Then, whispering in the great K.C.’s ear, he
said, “And I’ve been round the lot, my boy.”
“Sh-sh!” exclaimed the K.C. with a glance at the remarkable old
gentleman beside him. “You’ll get us all locked up, Mr. Benson.”
“I’ve been in the practice sixty years, my lad,” truculently replied
Mr. Benson. “You can’t tell me anything about winning cases in this
county!” There was the suspicion of a wink in the shrewd old eye
nearest to the eminent barrister, who in turn contented himself by a
sly tap on Mr. Benson’s leg and a chuckle, for the magistrates were
returning.
“We have decided to accede to the wishes of the prosecution and with
regret we commit the accused to take his trial at the winter assize,
and to remain in custody,” said the chairman.
After all, Mr. Benson and Sir Courtney Caldecott, K.C., were not
disappointed, for they had fully expected a committal, and never had
the thought of bail entered their heads. What they were concerned with
was what a High Court judge would think of the evidence as it stood.
How would he direct a jury? Could they possibly get a grand jury to
fling the bill out and save all the agony of a murder trial?
Sir Courtney returned with Mr. Benson to Evenden Priory, and dined
with him and Lady Evenden, who was very strongly impressed with the
powerful personality of the great advocate. And, when he gave her his
assurance that her son would be safe, she seemed content. Mr. Benson
half hoped that she might possibly confide in the K.C. the secret of
Dr. Laidlaw, to arm him still more in his defense of Frank. But that
hope was doomed to disappointment.
So, the days went by, and the greatest crisis in Frank Gough’s life
approached.
Mr. Benson was gravely perturbed at the whole position, and his
anxiety increased as the trial approached. What he knew, and what he
suspected, he kept entirely to himself. And, as he sat alone in the
library of Evenden Priory several nights before the trial, he surveyed
the whole case again for the hundredth time. Finally, with a sigh, he
laid the papers down upon the table.
“Was anyone ever in the plight that I’m in?” he asked himself. “The
prosecution’s case is not by any means infallible, but it’s pretty
strong. And where are we? We’ve got the mystery of the poison, which
discounts the quick quarrel theory, and we’ve got local sympathy. And
in my opinion that’s going to be the trump card.
“On the other hand, here’s this young doctor chap and his girl who
admit that they know something. What it is I don’t know, but it
concerns Laidlaw, and they talk mysteriously about it hurting someone
else--obviously Lady Evenden. She, on her part, won’t say a word about
Dr. Laidlaw, who helps matters by disappearing.
“What really happened was that Dr. Laidlaw committed that murder, and
Lady Evenden knows about it and daren’t say. That’s about the weight
of things.
“Well,” said Mr. Benson to himself finally, before he went to bed,
“we’ll fight it out as best we can, and if we fail I’ll have an appeal
entered and bring the whole lot of them to the appeal court--Lady
Evenden, young Barlow, the cunning little companion, and the
redoubtable Laidlaw. That’s what I’ll do, and now get to bed, you
silly old chap. Much too late for one of your years to be up. What, a
little whisky? Yes, you shall have just a tot; you deserve that, Chris
Benson!”
So, having complimented himself and treated himself to his usual
nightly tot, Mr. Benson went to bed to dream of all sorts of strange
things foreign to the curriculum of a lawyer.
He dreamt of an old low-built manor house and a girl in a lilac dress,
with a basket of roses on her arm. There was a young man walking
beside her, dressed in old-fashioned clothes, riding boots, and spurs.
It was himself. A smile played about the old lawyer’s lips as he moved
uneasily in his sleep. Then the dream seemed to change. A shadow fell
on the lawn upon which the young couple walked, and a man approached.
He walked straight up to them, and the girl cried:
“Be careful, Chris! Be careful!” So vivid was the cry that Mr. Benson
awoke with a start, perspiration on his brow.
“Phew,” he exclaimed. “What have I been eating? Hello, what’s that?”
He waited a second. Then he distinctly heard a creak in the room. With
surprising agility, for one of his years, Mr. Benson jumped out of bed
on the side farthest from the creaking sound, at the same time
switching on the light.
There, on the other side of the bed, surprise and dismay on his face,
stood Dr. Laidlaw.