CORROBORATIVE EVIDENCE
How I wished that I had been born blind, or failing that, that I had
been a thousand miles away when that fatal shot was fired! A coward's
attitude? Perhaps, but for the life of me at that moment I could not see
how my testimony could be anything but damaging to the girl I loved.
"Mr. Davies, will you tell the jury what happened last night," said the
coroner.
Very calmly I told them all that had happened, saying that I was a
life-long friend of Ruth, that she had asked me to come to the house,
and that in the course of conversation I had urged her to get me a paper
which was of value to me. She entered the study and almost immediately
the shot rang out. I ran to the door and found her standing beside her
husband. The shock of his death caused her to faint and I carried her
from the room.
When I was through, the coroner stroked his chin reflectively. I was
hoping he would dismiss me without further parley, but instead he began
his cross-examination.
"Mr. Davies, did you not think it strange that she should send for you
so late at night?" he commenced, after a slight pause.
"Under the circumstances, no," I replied.
"Under what circumstances?"
"In the interview between Mr. and Mrs. Darwin, of which you have heard,
Mr. Darwin threatened to ruin me. Mrs. Darwin sent for me because she
desired to warn me against her husband."
I saw several of the jurymen nudging each other and even the coroner's
brows shot up a trifle, but I decided that it was far better to
strengthen the case against her than to have them construing all manner
of scandal from my refusal to answer.
"Could she not have written to warn you, just as well?" pursued the
coroner.
"She believed that I would take no notice of such a warning unless it
were given in person," I replied.
"Would not the next morning have been ample time?" caustically.
"I can't presume to say," I shrugged.
"You were acquainted with Mrs. Darwin before her marriage. Was it merely
in the capacity of her friend?" He spoke diffidently, as if anxious not
to offend my sensibilities.
I debated the point and finally came to the conclusion that there was no
object in airing the family skeleton, more particularly as it might get
Dick into trouble with the authorities and thus set at naught Ruth's
dearly bought sacrifice.
I bowed therefore and replied quietly, "Yes, your honor, I was merely
her friend."
The coroner gave me a swift glance from beneath half-closed lids as he
fingered a sheet of paper thoughtfully.
"You said that Mrs. Darwin entered the study to reclaim a paper which
was of value to you, did you not?" he inquired.
"Yes," I answered, briefly.
"Is this the paper?" he continued in a peculiar tone, holding up the
letter that Ruth had described to me.
"I have no idea," I retorted.
"What do you mean by that?" he continued sharply.
"Mrs. Darwin simply told me that in the study-table drawer was a letter
which her husband could use against me. I urged her to retrieve it.
Never having seen it I cannot possibly say whether the paper in your
hand is the one or not," I returned, quietly.
For a moment he was nonplussed, and then he asked: "You heard Mr. Orton
say it was a love-letter written to you by Mrs. Darwin?"
"Oh, yes, but I didn't hear you ask him how he knew this. No, nor did I
hear him tell you that he fished the torn scraps of Mrs. Darwin's
private correspondence from her basket and pieced it together for her
husband's delectation," I replied, scornfully, glad of the chance to let
the jury know the truth concerning that letter.
I saw the look of disgust with which various of the members of the jury
favored Orton, and even the coroner was impressed to the point of laying
the letter aside and resuming his attack upon a different line.
"When you sent Mrs. Darwin into the study you were both aware, of
course, of Mr. Darwin's presence in that room?"
"No. Mr. Darwin had told his wife he was going out and we had no idea
there was anyone in the study."
"But finding him there unexpectedly might she not have shot him to
secure the letter?" pursued the relentless voice.
I shook my head and replied abruptly (I have learned since that he had
no right to ask that question, but I had no knowledge of legal
technicalities): "Impossible. She was in the study only a minute before
the shot was fired. This I am positive of, Mr. Orton's evidence to the
contrary. She had left the door slightly ajar and I remember listening
for sounds from the study just before the clock struck twelve. I heard
no voices. Besides, the study was in total darkness----"
"You are sure the study was in darkness?" he interrupted with an odd
look.
"Yes, I think I can safely say it was."
"It has been proven that Mr. Darwin was writing just before he was shot.
Do you think he was in the habit of writing in the dark?" he inquired
sarcastically.
I reddened. The detective's statement had slipped my mind, but I refused
to be ridiculed into changing my opinion. I could have staked my life
upon it that the study was dark.
"Of course I was not in the room itself," I returned stiffly, "but by
the hesitating way in which Mrs. Darwin entered and from the fact that
no glow came through the doorway as she opened the door, I judged that
the study was in darkness."
"The lamp on this table could never give sufficient light to be seen
from that doorway, Mr. Davies," remarked the coroner.
I shook my head impatiently. "Nevertheless, I am convinced the study was
in darkness," I reiterated stubbornly.
Seeing that he was getting nowhere he dropped the point, and asked: "Did
you also see the pistol in Mrs. Darwin's hand?"
There was no use in quibbling since the fact was known, and I had no
idea of what Ruth herself would say on this point, so I replied in the
affirmative, adding: "As I stood in the doorway I could see that Mr.
Darwin had been shot as plainly as I could see that Mrs. Darwin was
standing beside his chair."
"I thought you said the study was in darkness?"
"It was, but the lamp was lighted as I sprang for the door."
"Then you think there may have been someone else in the room?"
"Yes."
"Could you see the door of the study from your position in the
drawing-room?"
"Yes." What was he getting at, anyway?
"So that you could see whether anyone came out of the study, or entered
it after Mrs. Darwin?"
"Yes."
"Did anyone come out or go in?"
"No."
"You heard the evidence concerning the windows?"
"Yes."
"Do you still persist in saying there was someone else in the study?"
So that was it. He was trying to trap me into making a contradictory
statement to pay up for my stubbornness concerning the study. But I had
no intention of being trapped by him.
"I cannot be absolutely positive, your honor," I said, "but of this I am
certain. I had no knowledge of Mr. Orton's presence until he lighted the
study. Whether he was already in the room when Mrs. Darwin went in, or
whether he entered behind me, I am not prepared to say."
"That's not so!" cried Orton, his face more pallid than ever. "I was out
in the hall, your honor, I was out in the hall!"
The detective said something to him in an undertone, whereupon he
subsided tremblingly, but it was very plain to be seen that the coroner,
who had not been previously impressed with the man and who had since
come to regard him in the light of a sycophant, began to be suspicious
of the secretary, eyeing him with great disfavor, wondering, no doubt,
whether he were as innocent as he gave out. I began to breathe more
freely for Ruth, but at the coroner's next words my hopes were dashed
once more.
"Knowing that Mrs. Darwin was in the study, why did you give the police
the impression last night that she had heard the shot from upstairs?"
"She was ill. I didn't want her disturbed," I explained.
"In other words, you feared to tell the truth," he commented.
I made no answer. Protestations would only have made a bad matter worse.
"Mr. Davies, you know, of course, that if a man dies intestate, his wife
inherits his property?"
I nodded, but was decidedly puzzled.
"Mr. Darwin died intestate," he continued quietly, watching to note the
effect upon me.
"I don't understand you," I said, and I spoke the truth. I was out of my
depth, for he surely couldn't suppose that I was intimately acquainted
with Philip Darwin's personal affairs! Either that, or else he
possessed information of which I had no knowledge. It proved to be the
latter case.
"In the waste basket we found partially burned scraps of what was
presumably a will, Mr. Davies, and here," holding up a heavy paper, "is
what Mr. Darwin was at work upon when he was shot. It is a will, Mr.
Davies, or rather the beginning of one, and it is not in Mrs. Darwin's
favor."
I made no comment, but I could see what he was driving at. This was
another powerful factor to be added to Ruth's motive in taking her
husband's life.
"This will is in favor of Cora Manning. Did you ever hear of her, Mr.
Davies?" continued the coroner.
"I can't say that I have."
"Do you also identify this handkerchief?"
"No, I have never seen it before to my knowledge."
"It might be Mrs. Darwin's?"
"I don't know."
"That is all at present. Mr. Cunningham, please."