EVIDENCE FOR THE PROSECUTION.
The Court had reassembled rather late in the afternoon, so there was
little chance of much evidence being taken. Prelice went back to his
seat still wondering what thought hovered at the back of his brain
about Easter Island. He had visited that lonely and little known spot
during his travels in the company of a friend given to occult studies,
who insisted that the dismal spot of land was one of the remaining
portions of the great Continent of Lemuria, which was said to have
stretched from New Zealand to Africa. They had seen the famous
statues, and had fraternised with the somewhat dirty natives, who had
welcomed them warmly, as might be expected, seeing how few visitors
ever came to the desolate land. For one week Prelice and his friend,
Dr. Horace by name, had dwelt with the savages, and during that time
had seen much of their manners and customs, and even had witnessed
religious rites in front of the gigantic statues. Prelice had an idea
that there he had seen something, suggested anew by this murder case,
but vainly attempted to recall what it was. His memory would not help
him in the least.
Meanwhile Shepworth, looking much more cheerful now that he had
unbosomed himself to his chum, was again beside Cudworth, K.C., and
young Arker. Belmain called his first witness as soon as the judge
took his seat, in the person of the medical man who had examined the
body of the murdered baronet.
The medical evidence was very scanty. Dr. Quick stated that, to the
best of his belief, the dead man had been stabbed somewhere about ten
o'clock. The blow had been delivered straight and strong, and the
blade of the weapon used had penetrated right to the heart. Death must
have taken place instantaneously, and while Sir Oliver, suspecting no
treachery, had been reading. Belmain in cross-examination deduced from
this that the prisoner was guilty, since Sir Oliver would scarcely
have turned to his reading again had a stranger been in the room.
Also, had the person who committed the crime been one whom the dead
man suspected of any such design, he would assuredly not have
presented a defenceless back to such an assassin. No! It was evident
that the prisoner, after quarrelling with her uncle, had waited until
he again was buried in his books, and then had stabbed him with the
paper-knife. The doctor stated that the wound had been caused by a
broad, thin blade, which exactly described the jade-handled
paper-knife which was missing.
Several of the Grange servants were called to prove that Sir Oliver
had been heard quarrelling violently with his niece. He was, as the
evidence proved, a very hot-tempered and imperious man, and used
language of the worst. In fact, the coachman, called to prove an
outburst of temper when driving his master, said the late baronet
could outswear any navvy. It was also clearly proved that Sir Oliver
and his niece were on the worst possible terms when the crime was
committed. Several times Sir Oliver declared that he would disinherit
her, unless she surrendered her will and married Captain Jadby. But
prisoner, as her maid said, had as imperious a temper as her uncle,
and was well able to hold her own. "I don't mean," said the witness,
"that Miss Chent was ever unkind to me, for she always behaved with
consideration. I only mean that Sir Oliver could not brow-beat her, as
he did the rest of them."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Belmain. "Who did he brow-beat?"
"Captain Jadby for one, sir. He was fond of Captain Jadby, and used to
walk arm in arm with him in the garden, using him as a crutch for his
lameness, as it were, sir. But he stormed a good deal, and Captain
Jadby didn't fight like Miss Chent."
"You imply then that Captain Jadby was frightened of Sir Oliver?"
Witness (evasively): "I don't know, sir. I'm sure that my master was a
terrible man, and only liked those who gave way to him."
In cross-examination, Cudworth for the defence asked: "Do you believe
that prisoner is capable of committing the alleged crime?"
"No, sir, no," declared the lady's maid fervently. "Miss Chent is as
good and kind a young lady as ever breathed. I don't think for one
moment that she killed the master, and no more does anyone else."
The other servants gave similar evidence, all pointing to Sir Oliver's
ungovernable temper, and to Miss Chent's dexterous way of managing him
by meeting like with like. With Sir Oliver she fought on every
occasion, otherwise she would have been reduced to slavery; but with
other people Miss Chent was always kind and even-tempered. Although
the witnesses called were for the prosecution, not one of them would
confess to a belief in the prisoner's guilt. Belmain was rather
disconcerted by his unanimous approval of Miss Chent, and tried his
best to bully the witnesses into blaming her. But he failed on every
occasion, and even when Mrs. Blexey was hoisted into the box he could
not induce her to run down the girl. This loyalty created a deep
impression, and prisoner for the first time showed emotion.
Mrs. Blexey was very stout, and very red-faced, and very tall, and
extremely frightened. She looked like an elephant, and certainly
possessed the timid nature of a rabbit. The contrast between her
gigantic appearance and her timid speech amused those present so
greatly that a continuous tittering was heard until the judge
threatened to clear the Court.
Belmain: "You are Emma Blexey, the late Sir Oliver's housekeeper?"
Mrs. Blexey: "Yes, my lord!" (with a curtsey).
Belmain (facetiously): "You need not give me a title before I have
earned it, my good woman." (Laughter.)
Mrs. Blexey: "Oh no, my lord--I mean my dear sir." (Laughter.)
When the laughter over this second form of address had subsided, Mrs.
Blexey stated that the prisoner was as attached to her uncle as he was
to her. They had tiffs on occasions, as Sir Oliver's temper was none
of the best, but Miss Chent was never in the wrong, and usually
contrived to pacify the irascible baronet. He was as fractious as a
child, said the housekeeper, and required similar management. But, on
the whole, he and Miss Chent--Mrs. Blexey refused to call her young
mistress "the prisoner"--got on extremely well. As to the phrase about
disinheriting, that was a favourite threat of Sir Oliver's, which
meant practically nothing. He used it on every occasion, sometimes in
earnest, and often in fun. It meant nothing, she said again.
Belmain: "He meant it when the prisoner refused to marry Captain
Jadby, no doubt."
Mrs. Blexey (wiping her red face): "The Lord knows what he meant, sir.
He was a queer gentleman."
Then Belmain proceeded to question the housekeeper regarding the
admission which Steve Agstone was said to have made to her. It would
have been preferable to obtain the evidence of the old sailor first
hand, but since he could not be discovered the Counsel got what he
could out of Mrs. Blexey. And what she knew he had to drag out of her
by persistent questioning, for her sympathies were entirely with the
prisoner. She stated that Agstone drank a great deal, and was always
in trouble with Sir Oliver on that account. But that he had been the
baronet's factotum for many years he would have been dismissed dozens
of times. A drunken, grumpy, sullen savage, was the description given
by the housekeeper. "But he was good-natured enough when sober," she
confessed, "and quite devoted to Sir Oliver."
Belmain: "A kind of loyal henchman, in fact. Well, and what statement
did he make to you, and when did he make it?"
Mrs. Blexey: "On the morning after the murder, Agstone--or Steve as
everyone called him--was drinking rum to drown his grief at the death
of Sir Oliver. He sat for a long time in my room weeping, and said
that he knew Miss Mona would do for her uncle. Those were his very
words, and I told him that he was speaking rubbish."
Belmain: "What happened then?"
Mrs. Blexey: "He fired up, and declared that while waiting up on the
previous night for Captain Jadby, he had gone down the avenue to see
if he was coming. Not finding him, and seeing the light still in the
library, he wondered if Captain Jadby had arrived and had gone in to
say good-night to Sir Oliver. He therefore went to one of the windows,
and saw Miss Chent stooping over the fire to burn something. Sir Oliver
was leaning forward on the desk with his head on his outstretched arms.
Miss Chent also had a knife in her hands. Steve said that he thought
there had been a row, and that Sir Oliver was weeping, as he sometimes
did, being old and feeble from much hardship. He said that, had he
guessed that Miss Chent had just murdered his master, he would have
given the alarm. As it was, afraid lest Sir Oliver should be angry at
his spying, he stole back into the house by the front door, and went
to his own room at the back of the house. There he waited for Captain
Jadby, and rushed into the library when he heard the bell."
Belmain: "I understood that Agstone told you that he had actually seen
the prisoner kill Sir Oliver."
Prelice, in the body of the Court, thought so too, as he remembered
what Ned had said during the luncheon. But Mrs. Blexey emphatically
denied such a story. "I mentioned the matter to Mr. Shepworth but I am
sure that he said nothing. But Steve might have talked in his drunken
way to others, and might have told a different story. I know that
there is a prevailing impression that he saw the murder, but he did
not say so to me."
So spoke Mrs. Blexey, and Belmain looked worried. "You are telling the
truth?" he demanded, in vexed tones.
"I am here to tell the truth," retorted Mrs. Blexey, "and I am, so
there." After this somewhat incoherent speech she was cross-examined
by Cudworth, and expressed her belief that Agstone had scarcely
measured his words. Being devoted to Sir Oliver himself, he had always
been very jealous of the favour shown to Miss Chent, and fairly hated
her. Undoubtedly his wild maunderings were intended to hurt Miss
Chent, and to get her into trouble. But Agstone had disappeared before
the inquest, where he would have had to give evidence on oath. Mrs.
Blexey firmly believed that had he been put on his oath he could not
have substantiated what he had said to her. "I never could bear that
Steve," she cried; "he was a sneaking dog, saving your presence, and
had no love for anyone except Sir Oliver."
"Do you know where he is now?" asked Belmain, returning to the attack.
"No, I don't, sir, and I don't want to."
"I quite believe that," rejoined Counsel dryly, "seeing that you are
prejudiced in prisoner's favour."
As Mrs. Blexey had surmised that Steve might have told a story of
actually seeing prisoner kill her uncle to the other servants, Belmain
recalled several witnesses. But not one of them could state that the
current report was true. Steve had certainly hinted to several that he
could bring home the crime to Miss Chent; but he had supplied no
details, and as his hints were given when he was drunk, no one paid
much attention to them. On the afternoon of the day following the
night of the murder Steve had gone out for his usual stroll in the
direction of Sandgate, and had not returned. The evidence of a
detective proved that he had taken the train to London, and had been
traced as far as Charing-Cross Station. There he had disappeared, and
in spite of all search, his whereabouts could not be discovered.
By this time it was growing late, and judge, jury, lawyers, and
listeners all exhibited symptoms of weariness. Therefore the Court
rose, with the intention of sitting at eleven o'clock on the following
morning. It was the general opinion that, unless Steve Agstone could
be placed in the witness-box, the prisoner would not be convicted.
Also Miss Chent's calm demeanour, and the loyalty of the Grange
servants, which had placed her character in so attractive a light,
went far to enlist public sympathy in her favour. Those who left the
Court had more belief in her innocence than when they had entered.
Many insisted that she could not possibly be guilty; but others
pointing to the fact--which had been forthcoming at the inquest--that
she had burned a new will disinheriting her, declared that, without
doubt, she had murdered her uncle so as not to lose the money. All the
same, the majority favoured the prisoner, and many well-wishers hoped
for her acquittal.
Shepworth was pleased and hopeful. "The tide is quite in Mona's
favour, Dorry," he said to Prelice when the Court rose, "and unless
Steve Agstone turns up, she must be set free for want of evidence."
"There is the question of the burnt will, you know, Ned."
"We can prove that it was the will made in Mona's favour which was
burnt," said Shepworth decisively. "Sir Oliver made no new will, as he
had not left the house for quite a month, and could not have altered
his will before then. His lawyer never came down to the Grange to draw
up a will, and if Sir Oliver had drawn up a new one himself, he would
have asked some of the servants to be his witnesses. We know that no
one was asked to witness any document."
"Captain Jadby and Steve Agstone might have witnessed."
"No. There is a chance certainly that Agstone might have done so, but
one signature would have been of no use. And had Jadby witnessed a new
will, he would not have benefited under it. Besides, since he had the
will made in the South Seas, and Sir Oliver assuredly wished him to
have the money, along with Mona, all that had to be done was to
destroy the will made in Mona's favour, and then Jadby, having the
cash, could leave her penniless unless she married him. Which is just
what has happened," ended Shepworth.
"Of course," said Prelice thoughtfully, "Miss Chent might have been
trying, when seen by Steve, to rescue the will from the fire into
which it had been thrown by Sir Oliver."
Shepworth wheeled round. "Do you believe that she is guilty?"
"Oh, no. But we must look on all sides. And Agstone----"
"Is a liar," interrupted the barrister quickly. "I don't believe that
he saw Mona bending over the fire. She was insensible, by her own
showing, from the moment she entered the room until Jadby woke her.
And remember that I found her insensible."
"It would help her if you said so."
"I don't agree with you. Were I examined about my presence in the
library, I might let slip that the knife----"
"Yes, yes," said Prelice hastily. "I see. It will be better for you to
hold your tongue. I hope that Agstone will not appear."
"If he does not, Mona is safe," rejoined Ned, with a sigh of relief.
"Oh, poor Mona. Think of her in prison, Dorry."
"She will soon be out of it," answered Prelice soothingly. "I am quite
sure that she will be acquitted. Where are you going now?"
"Home to my flat. I am quite worn out. Come and look me up this
evening about ten or eleven, when I have had a sleep. I live at
Alexander Mansions, Kensington Gore. Number Forty."
"Alexander Mansions," repeated Prelice, surprised; "why, here is the
long arm of coincidence, Ned. Mrs. Dolly Rover has asked me to a
masked ball, which she is giving in her flat--a most unsuitable place
for a _bal masque_ I think."
"Oh, no," said Shepworth, with a flush of colour, though why he should
show this emotion Prelice could not say; "the flat occupied by Mrs.
Rover is above mine. She has, in fact, two flats furnished on a most
palatial scale. Her husband is a rich little beast, you know."
"Why a little beast?" asked Prelice, rather perplexed.
Shepworth's colour grew deeper. "He is not worthy of his wife. She was
Miss Newton, you know, very clever and very beautiful. Dolly--fancy a
man being called Dolly----"
"Short for Adolphus. It is not an uncommon abbreviation."
"It is contemptible for a man--and he's a rat. Dolly Rover," added
Shepworth contemptuously, "fooh! the effeminate monkey. Well,
good-bye. I'll see you between ten and eleven."
When Ned jumped into a cab, Prelice walked home wondering why he
should run down the dapper little stockbroker whom Miss Newton had
married. Then he remembered that Shepworth had admired Miss Newton
before she changed her name to Rover.