I LEAVE THE COURT
As for the coroner, he was prejudiced against me directly I took up
my stand at the table; he being one of those diminutive opuscula who
instinctively object to a man who is of a reasonable size. My height
has been against me more than once. It placed me at a disadvantage
then. There was not a creature present in the room who did not look
upon me as a sort of raree-show, and who was not prepared to enjoy the
spectacle of my being put to confusion. Nor had they long to wait for
the sort of pleasure they desired; I made a hash of things almost from
the start.
A little fellow, who had informed us that he had been instructed by
the Treasury, took me in hand. He might have been a cousin of the
coroner’s; he, too, had sandy hair and the same peevish countenance.
His questions at first were not particularly objectionable, but ere
long they became of a kind which, if I had had my way, I would have
been careful not to answer in any fashion save one. He had a trick of
holding his hands in front of him, fidgeting a piece of paper between
his fingers. His voice was, like himself, small and insignificant;
but, when he chose, it had a singularly penetrating quality, which,
for some reason, reminded me of the sound of sawing wood. He kept his
eyes fixed almost continually on my face, glancing hungrily from
feature to feature, as if desirous not to miss the movement of a
muscle. Altogether he was like some pertinacious terrier who worried,
not only in the way of business, but also for sport. I should like to
have taken him by the scruff of the neck and shaken him.
He wanted to know if Edwin Lawrence had been a friend of mine; how
long I had known him, what I knew about him, when I had seen him last.
I told him about the game of cards, but, somewhat to my surprise, he
made no allusion to my loss, nor the terms on which we parted.
And here began my blundering. I wished the Court to understand that,
at parting, we were on the worst possible terms, and that I was in
just the proper mood for committing murder. But Jordan--that was the
little terrier fellow--would have none of it. He told me to confine
myself to answering his questions; and that I would have an
opportunity of making any statement, on my own account, which the
Court might think fit to allow, when he had done with me. I wished to
make my statement then; but with him against me, and the coroner, and
an ass of a foreman, who said that the jury were unanimously of
opinion that I was wasting time, I never had a chance.
He had his way. Then began the real tug-of-war with his very next
question. He asked me if, after I had retired to rest, I had been
disturbed in the night. Then I saw a chance to score, after all. I
said I had, by a dream; but when I was about to tell them of that
mysterious vision, he stopped me.
“Never mind about the dream. Dreams are not evidence.”
Some of the audience tittered. I have not the faintest notion what at.
I should have liked to supply them with an adequate reason.
“But my dream is evidence--very much evidence. If you will let me tell
it you, it will throw more light----”
“Thank you. But were you disturbed by nothing beside a dream?--for
instance, by some one coming through your bedroom window?”
“I was not.”
“Mr. Ferguson, take care. Do you say that no one came through your
window?”
“I say that I was not disturbed by any one.”
“I see. You are particular about the form in which the question is
put. I will alter it. I ask you--did any one come through your bedroom
window after you had retired to rest?”
“I decline to answer. It’s no business of yours. I suppose I can have
what visitors I choose.”
“Do you suggest that the visit was intended for you--in your bedroom,
alone, at that hour of the night? Consider what your suggestion
implies.”
“I never said that any one came.”
“You as good as said so. But we will have it from you in another form.
Who was it, Mr. Ferguson, who came through your bedroom window?”
Beads of perspiration were already standing on my forehead.
“I have told you,” I shouted, “that I decline to answer!”
Jordan turned to the coroner.
“Perhaps you will allow me to explain, Mr. Coroner, that the police
are in possession of a body of evidence which tends to implicate a
particular person. This fact the witness is aware of and resents. He
has not only thrown obstacles in the way of the police, but has gone
so far as to assert his own guilt. That this assertion rests on no
basis of truth there can be no sort of doubt. Its only purpose can be
to throw dust in the eyes of the police; and, especially, to render
his own evidence ineligible. His own evidence is of capital
importance. And I ask your assistance, Mr. Coroner, in my endeavour to
prevent a miscarriage of justice, owing to Mr. Ferguson’s refusal to
answer any questions which I may put to him.”
“Certainly. Witness, you will answer any proper questions which are
put to you, at once, and without any beating about the bush.”
“I rather fancy that that’s a point on which I shall please myself.”
The coroner banged his hand upon the table.
“Don’t speak to me like that, sir, or you’ll find yourself in the
wrong box. If you don’t answer the questions which are put to you,
I’ll commit you for contempt of Court.”
“Commit.”
I should have liked to commit an assault upon the coroner. But he
thought proper to ignore my challenge, and addressed himself to Mr.
Jordan.
“Put your question again. I am amazed to find a person of the apparent
position of the witness behaving in so discreditable a manner.”
“Now, Mr. Ferguson. I ask you again: Did any one come through your
bedroom window after you had retired to rest?”
“And I say to you, Mr. Jordan, that you have my sympathy in the
position in which you find yourself. Don’t you think if I were to put
one or two questions to you, it might vary the monotony?”
“You hear, Mr. Coroner, what the witness says?”
“I do. And I regret to find that such conduct can be treated with
levity.” A titter had gone round the room. “If there is that sound
again, I will immediately have the court cleared. Witness, look at
me.”
“If you desire it, with the greatest pleasure. Though there doesn’t
seem to be much to look at.”
“How dare you speak to me like that?”
“No offence, my dear Mr. Coroner. A plain statement of a plain fact.”
“Have you been drinking, sir?”
“That is said with an insolent intention. Is it impossible for an
official person to be courteous?”
“Your behaviour is most extraordinary. You evidently cannot realise
the serious nature of the occasion which brings us here. Are you
aware, sir, that if you decline to answer the questions which are put
to you, I can commit you to prison for contempt of Court?”
“I am not aware of any reason why impertinent questions should be
answered under one set of circumstances rather than another.”
“Don’t argue with me. Will you answer the question which counsel has
put to you?”
“My good Mr. Coroner----”
“I commit you for contempt. Officer, arrest this man.”
“If the gentleman in question is wise enough to take my seriously
offered advice, he will not attempt to do anything so foolish.”
Hume, who was sitting opposite, rose and leaned towards me across the
table.
“Are you stark mad? What useful purpose do you propose to serve by
going to gaol? Or what good do you suppose you will do her by fumbling
with the questions? You will have to speak out sooner or later. Speak
out now! Tell the truth! That is the only way in which you can do her
a service.”
Jordan struck in; still twirling the scrap of paper into spirals with
his fingers:
“Might I ask you, Mr. Coroner, to request your officer to refrain for
a moment from carrying out your instructions? Perhaps Mr. Ferguson may
be disposed to listen to this gentleman’s wise and friendly counsel.
Don’t you think, sir, that you had better?”
I laughed.
“I do. I am prepared to answer any questions which you may put to me.”
“That is more promising. I assure you that I have no desire to do or
say anything to hurt your feelings. I believe I know what they are,
and I respect them. But I must do my duty and you must do yours; and I
do not think that you will hurt any one by doing it.”
“Don’t lecture me, man.”
“Now, tell me; did any one come through your bedroom window after you
had retired to rest?”
“No one.”
“That you swear.”
“Miss Bessie Moore did not come through your window?”
“Certainly not. How dare you drag in that lady’s name?”
“Was she in your rooms at all that night?”
“She was not.”
“Did you go up, between one and two in the morning, to tell the
housekeeper that she had come through your window?”
“I did not.”
“Did the housekeeper come down and find her in your room?”
“She did not.”
“Did Miss Bessie Moore spend the night in the housekeeper’s
apartments?”
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t--or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
“Are you aware that you have sworn to speak the truth?”
“I am.”
“Are you acquainted with the pains and penalties of perjury?”
“My good man, pray don’t, even by inference, attempt to measure
others’ ignorance by the standard of your own.”
“As you will. So long as we know that we are not dealing with one who
is wholly illiterate. Have you seen this cloak before, Mr. Ferguson?”
From a bag which Inspector Symonds produced from beneath the table he
took, as I had expected, the plum-coloured cloak.
“I have.”
“Where?”
“In my room. And on my cousin’s back.”
“On your cousin’s back? Not on Miss Moore’s?”
“Certainly not.”
“You have never seen Miss Moore wearing it?”
“Never.”
“To the best of your knowledge and belief is this not Miss Moore’s
cloak?”
“Nothing of the kind.”
“That you swear?”
“You have already reminded me that I am on my oath.”
“It is necessary to keep that fact always before you, Mr. Ferguson.
Then if Miss Moore says that this cloak is hers she will be stating
what is false?”
“When Miss Moore makes such a claim it will be time to discuss it.
Don’t let us be suppositious.”
“Very well. I will not put to you any more questions, Mr. Ferguson, at
present; though don’t suppose for a moment that I have done with you.
I have to inform you, Mr. Coroner, that this witness has been uttering
a series of perjuries, well knowing them to be perjuries, for the
obvious purpose of defeating the ends of Justice. And I have to ask
that, at the very least, a watch be kept upon his movements.”
“He shall be detained.”
“Detained!”
I laughed. I buttoned my coat across my chest, and I walked out of the
room. The people made way to let me pass as if I had been the plague.
Possibly it was because they saw something in my appearance which they
did not altogether like. A constable stood at the entrance. I motioned
him, with my hand, to move on one side. He moved aside, I saw that
there was a key in the lock, on the outer side of the door. I had an
inspiration. It was a solidly constructed door, not one of your flimsy
constructions made of matchwood, but a good, honest piece of woodwork,
not to be easily forced from the inside. I drew it to, locked it, and,
slipping the key into my pocket, I walked down the stairs out into the
street.
The Court, for all I knew, continued sitting.