Q. “When did you meet him after that?”
A. “In the beginning of June.”
Q. “Where?”
A. “In Glasgow.”
Q. “At a street corner?”
A. “No, he came up to the house at Prince’s Street.”
Q. “Miss Gilchrist’s house?”
A. “Yes, sir.”
Q. “That was the first time since the dance?”
A. “Yes, sir.”
Q. “Do you deny that you had a meeting with him by a letter received
from him at a corner of a street in Glasgow?”
A. “I got a letter.”
Q. “To meet him at a street corner?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “The first meeting after the dance?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “And you met him there?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “And you went out with him?”
A. “No, I did not go out with him.”
Q. “You went somewhere with him, didn’t you?”
A. “Yes, I made an appointment for Sunday.”
Q. “Did you know anything about the man?”
A. “Yes, I did, sir.”
Q. “What did you know about him?”
A. “I didn’t know much.”
Q. “How many times did he visit you at Miss Gilchrist’s house?”
A. “Once.”
Q. “Quite sure of that?”
A. “Quite sure.”
Q. “Didn’t he come and take tea with you there in her apartment?”
A. “That was at the Coast.”
Q. “Then he came to see you at Miss Gilchrist’s summer place?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “How many times?”
A. “Once.”
Q. “Did he meet Miss Gilchrist then?”
A. “Yes, sir.”
Q. “You introduced him?”
A. “Yes, sir.”
Q. “Did she wear this diamond brooch?”
A. “I don’t remember.”
Q. “When did you next see him?”
A. “The first week in September.”
Q. “In Glasgow?”
A. “Yes, sir.”
Q. “By appointment?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “When next?”
A. “I have not met him since.”
Q. “And you say he only called once at the country place?”
A. “Once, sir.”
Q. “In your Glasgow deposition you say: ‘He visited me at Girvan and
was entertained at tea with me on Saturday night, and at dinner on
Sunday with Miss Gilchrist and me.’”
A. “Yes, sir.”
Q. “Then you did see him more than once in the country.”
A. “Once.”
He read the extract again as above.
Q. “Was that true?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “Then you invited this man to tea at Miss Gilchrist’s summer house?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “On Saturday night?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “And on Sunday night?”
A. “He wasn’t there.”
Q. “On Sunday you invited him there to dinner with Miss Gilchrist and
yourself, didn’t you?”
A. “No, sir. I didn’t invite him.”
Q. “Who invited him?”
A. “Miss Gilchrist.”
Q. “Had you introduced him?”
A. “Yes, sir.”
Q. “He was your friend, wasn’t he?”
A. “Yes, sir.”
Q. “She knew nothing about him?”
A. “No.”
Q. “She took him to the house on your recommendation?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “Did she wear her diamonds at this dinner party?”
A. “I don’t remember.”
Q. “You told him that she was a rich woman?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “Did you tell him that she had a great many jewels?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “Have your suspicions ever turned towards this man?”
A. “Never.”
Q. “Do you know of any other man who would be as familiar with those
premises, the wealth of the old lady, her jewelry, and the way to get
into the premises as that man?”
A. “No, sir.”
Q. “Was the man you met in the hallway this man?”
A. “No, sir.”
This is a condensation of a very interesting and searching piece of
the cross-examination which reveals several things. One is Lambie’s
qualities as a witness. Another is the very curious picture of the
old lady, the book-maker and the servant-maid all sitting at dinner
together. The last and most important is the fact, that a knowledge of
the jewels had got out. Against the man himself there is no possible
allegation. The matter was looked into by the police, and their
conclusions were absolute, and were shared by those responsible for
the defence. But is it to be believed that during the months which
elapsed between this man acquiring this curious knowledge, and the
actual crime, never once chanced to repeat to any friend, who in turn
repeated it to another, the strange story of the lonely old woman and
her hoard? This he would do in full innocence. It was a most natural
thing to do. But, for almost the first time in the case we seem to
catch some glimpse of the relation between possible cause and effect,
some connection between the dead woman on one side, and outsiders on
the other who had the means of knowing something of her remarkable
situation.
There is just one other piece of Lambie’s cross-examination, this time
from the Edinburgh trial, which I would desire to quote. It did not
appear in America, just as the American extract already given did not
appear in Edinburgh. For the first time they come out together:
Q. “Did Miss Gilchrist use to have a dog?”
A. “Yes, an Irish terrier.”
Q. “What happened to it?”
A. “It got poisoned.”
Q. “When was it poisoned?”
A. “I think on the 7th or 8th of September.”
Q. “Was that thought to be done by someone?”
A. “I did not think it, for I thought it might have eaten something,
but Miss Gilchrist thought it was poisoned by someone.”
Q. “To kill the watch-dog--was that the idea?”
A. “She did not say.”
The reader should be reminded that Slater did not arrive in Glasgow
until the end of October of that year. His previous residences in the
town were as far back as 1901 and 1905. If the dog were indeed poisoned
in anticipation of the crime, he, at least, could have had nothing to
do with it.
There is one other piece of evidence which may, or may not have been
of importance. It is that of Miss Brown, the schoolmistress. This lady
was in court, but seems to have been called by neither side for the
reason that her evidence was helpful to neither the prosecution nor the
defence. She deposed that on the night of the murder, about ten minutes
past seven, she saw two men running away from the scene. One of these
men closely corresponded to the original description of the murderer
before it was modified by Barrowman. This one was of medium build,
dark hair and clean-shaven, with three-quarter length grey overcoat,
dark tweed cap, and both hands in his pockets. Here we have the actual
assassin described to the life, and had Miss Brown declared that this
man was the prisoner, she would have been a formidable addition to the
witnesses for prosecution. Miss Brown, however identified Oscar Slater
(after the usual absurd fashion of such identifications) as the second
man, whom she describes, as of “Dark glossy hair, navy blue overcoat
with velvet collar, dark trousers, black boots, something in his hand
which seemed clumsier than a walking stick.” One would imagine that
this object in his hand would naturally be his hat, since she describes
the man as bare-headed. All that can be said of this incident is that
if the second man was Slater, then he certainly was not the actual
murderer whose dress corresponds closely to the first, and in no
particular to the second. To the Northern eye, all swarthy foreigners
bear a resemblance, and that there was a swarthy man, whether foreign
or not, concerned in this affair would seem to be beyond question.
That there should have been two confederates, one of whom had planned
the crime while the other carried it out, is a perfectly feasible
supposition. Miss Brown’s story does not necessarily contradict that
of Barrowman, as one would imagine that the second man would join the
murderer at some little distance from the scene of the crime. However,
as there was no cross-examination upon the story, it is difficult to
know what weight to attach to it.
Let me say in conclusion that I have had no desire in anything said in
this argument, to hurt the feelings or usurp the functions of anyone,
whether of the police or the criminal court, who had to do with the
case. It is difficult to discuss matters from a detached point of view
without giving offence. I am well aware that it is easier to theorise
at a distance than to work a case out in practice whether as detective
or as counsel. I leave the matter now with the hope that, even after
many days, some sudden flash may be sent which will throw a light upon
as brutal and callous a crime as has ever been recorded in those black
annals in which the criminologist finds the materials for his study.
Meanwhile it is on the conscience of the authorities, and in the last
resort on that of the community that this verdict obtained under the
circumstances which I have indicated, shall now be reconsidered.
Arthur Conan Doyle.
Windlesham,
Crowborough.