A SURPRISING DEFENCE
Elspeth lost no time in relating to Kind all that she had heard from
Maud, and also confessed that she had promised the girl half her
father's fortune if she saved Angus. Sweetlips was rather annoyed that
such a promise had been extorted,--which it really had been,--as Miss
Tedder certainly did not deserve one single penny.
"However," said the Cheap-jack, "YOU made the promise, and not Mr.
Herries, therefore if he refuses, Miss Tedder can say nothing."
"Angus will do what I want," replied the girl, quickly.
"I know that, but you won't want him to reward iniquity, and--"
"Oh, Maud is not so bad as that."
"She's about as bad as they make 'em," grumbled the ex-detective
grimly. "To get that money she is quite willing to see her cousin
hanged, and is only hedging at the last moment, as she fears lest your
father should save him."
"Do you think my father really can?"
"Yes. I know what he is going to say, and it will settle the matter.
Therefore Miss Tedder, not having saved Mr. Herries, can expect
nothing. Moreover, the fortune will not be your husband's until he
discovers the criminal. Oh, there are many reasons why your forced
promise to Miss Tedder need not be kept."
"But if she is right in saying that Señora Guzman is the guilty
person, she will have done everything towards getting the fortune for
Angus."
"So that she may secure half of it, if he is not hanged. And if he
escapes, it will be no thanks to her."
"Do you think she is telling the truth?"
"I really can't say," murmured Kind, nursing his chin. "Of course she
is jealous of Señora Guzman, and would do anything to get her out of
the way. It seems to me that Captain Bruce Kyles is trifling with both
these women. Tell me again exactly what Miss Tedder said."
Elspeth thought for a moment.
"She said that her father wrote the letter, which Mr. Ritson mentioned
to you, to Señora Guzman, asking her to come to the 'Marsh Inn.' She
came, and Sir Simon proposed to pay her enough money to fit out some
expedition, on condition that she,--the Señora that is,--took Captain
Bruce Kyles away from England,--removed him from Maud's path in fact."
"Humph. I remember Señora Guzman's reference to an expedition in
search of some treasure. It might be, that her real reason in coming
to England was to get funds. But if this Mexican lady loves Kyles, and
Sir Simon was willing to pay her for loving him, why did she murder
him?"
"To get the money, Maud says."
"But she could have got the money in any case," argued Kind, who was
much perplexed by the present aspect of the affair. "Why commit a
useless crime? I don't believe she did it."
"But you remember," Elspeth reminded him, "you remember that you found
the stump of a Tangerian cigarette on the floor of----"
"Yes, yes,--and Señora Guzman smokes that brand. But other people may
smoke the same sort of cigarettes,--for instance Captain Kyles," and
Sweetlips looked keenly at Elspeth.
"Do you think that he----?"
"No. Mrs. Mountford, whom I have seen, told me that Captain Kyles was
with Maud Tedder on the night of the murder. He could not be in two
places at once, could he? But then that kidnapping--the crew of the
'Tarabacca' certainly kidnapped Armour under the impression that he
was some spy,--that looks as though their mistress was in the hotel at
the time, and they were removing danger from her path. And again,
Señora Guzman could easily swarm up those light trellis spars under
the window of the bedroom."
"In petticoats?"
"Pooh. A daring woman like that is quite capable of assuming a
sailor's dress to carry out her object."
"Then you think she was there--that she is guilty?"
"I think, on the authority of the cigarette stump, that she was in the
hotel, but I don't say that she is guilty. She did not kill Sir Simon,
for I can see no motive for her committing the crime."
"Nevertheless," urged Elspeth, "as the cigarette stump was found in my
husband's bedroom she must have been there."
"Well," drawled the Cheap-jack, with his eyes on the ground, "as I
said, other people may have smoked such a brand;--one of the officers
on board, for instance. Kyles is innocent, and I am not prepared to
say that Señora Guzman is guilty. But she certainly might have
implicated your husband in the crime by placing the razor on his bed
and hiding the pocket-book under it. The best thing to do will be to
question her, and inform her of Miss Tedder's accusation. I thought
she was coming to see you?"
"So she was,--yesterday, and I expected to see her about the time Maud
called. However, she never came."
"Humph. She will be at the trial, no doubt. You will see her to-day.
Then I'll question her. Oh, by the way," Kind came back after taking a
few steps towards the door, "I have found out from Trent, who is a
fool and can't keep his own counsel, that Sir Simon drew two thousand
pounds from his bank the day previous to his death--that is, two
hundred in gold and the rest in notes. Trent learned this from Ritson,
who should have told me by the way, and he heard it from the bank
manager. So you see that the money which the landlady and her son saw
Sir Simon handling and which filled the blue pocket-book amounted to
that sum. Now, if we can trace the notes we'll lay hands on the
criminal."
"Have any of the notes been presented?"
"Not yet. However, the manager has the numbers. Trent makes this
statement at the hearing to-day before the magistrate. I must get off
there. And you?"
"I'm coming with my father in half-an-hour."
"You'll come back with your husband to this place shortly," said Kind,
in an encouraging tone.
"Oh, Sweetlips, do you really think so.
"I am absolutely certain of it," and he departed, leaving Mrs. Herries
much up-lifted by the good news. She was certain that the Cheap-jack
spoke the truth, for there was that in his manner which inspired
confidence.
Elspeth dressed herself very simply to accompany her father to the
hearing before the magistrate, and indeed, even had she been minded to
dress more expensively, she could not have done so. Her frock and hat,
her boots and gloves were all presents from Rachel Kind, in return for
the nursing, and were of the plainest and cheapest description. Dr.
Browne, in his impulsive generosity, had wished to give his friend's
wife a dress, but this Elspeth refused, as she preferred to be
indebted to no one. And Browne honoured her for the refusal. He was
beginning to have a better opinion of women since he had known Elspeth
Herries.
But if the daughter was plainly dressed, the father was resplendent,
as the old scamp had no scruples in taking money from whomsoever was
fool enough to give it to him. He was arrayed in purple and fine
linen, and looked highly prosperous. Gowrie was aware that he was the
most important figure at the trial, after the prisoner, and resolved
to take every advantage of the publicity which was, as he said
himself, thrust upon him. For years, as he also said, he had been
hiding his light under a bushel, but now there was a chance of his
shining brilliantly, and he arranged to stick his candle in the most
conspicuous position. The shrewd old man saw every opportunity of
making money, and although he hoped that his son-in-law, when freed
and in possession of the property, would remunerate him for his
services, still he did not neglect the chance of making a few
shillings on his own account. And finally, Gowrie dearly loved
publicity and praise. His progress along the streets with Elspeth was
like that of a king leading a princess to the altar. His daughter
wanted a cab, but this Gowrie refused.
"Haud up yer held, ma bairn," said he in his grand mellow voice, "an'
dinna leuk sae white. This is a gran' day in the annals o' ma hoose,
an' I gang forth, like David, tae succour the sick, and tae----" here
Mr. Gowrie, who had been taking various drinks, became somewhat
incoherent, and Elspeth was glad when he held his tongue, since
everyone in the street knew who he was, and who she was from the old
man's loud talking. He was really a dreadful person to have for a
father. All the same he held the fate of her husband in his hands.
There was a crowd outside the building in which the trial was to take
place, but a very few people were admitted into the court itself. This
was done by order of the presiding magistrate, who knew that the
sympathy of the public was with the prisoner, and who did not wish for
any manifestations during the proceedings. Trent had assured him that
Herries would undoubtedly be convicted on the evidence, and the
magistrate, believing this, guessed that when the young man was
committed to take his trial at the next Essex sessions, there would be
a tumult. Therefore, when Elspeth and her father entered the court,
they found that few were present. But outside could be heard the
murmur of the mob, who were eagerly waiting to see what would happen.
The proceedings were very much the same as they had been at the "Marsh
Inn" inquest. Trent made similar statements to those he had made
before, but supplemented them by adding that Sir Simon had in his
possession on the night he was murdered the sum of two thousand pounds
in gold and notes. He stated that the numbers of the notes were in his
possession, but that as yet none of them had been presented. He
detailed all that had taken place at the inn on the night the crime
had been committed,--the arrival of Sir Simon to meet his unknown
visitor, the subsequent arrival of Herries, who said,--and perhaps
wrongly, as Trent suggested,--that he did not know that his uncle was
in the house. Then came the relation of Narby's discovery of the dead
body, and the evidence found in Herries' room. In fact Inspector Trent
made out a very good case against the prisoner, and it really looked
as though nothing could prevent the accused man being committed for
trial at the Chelmsford sessions.
The same witnesses as had appeared at the inquest were called: Mrs.
Narby, her husband, her son, and Elspeth. No new facts were elicited,
and the witnesses, with the exception of Elspeth, stated that they
were certain the prisoner was guilty. Browne was examined and gave
evidence as to his examination of the dead body and mentioned the
probable hour of death. It was all rather dull, as everything had
appeared before in the papers. Herries, seated in the dock, gazed
straight before him with a calm face, and every now and then stole a
glance at Elspeth to gain confidence. She was seated with clasped
hands in agony, as the evidence was given. In the face of it all, how
could she hope that her husband would escape.
Trent, recalled by the magistrate, explained that he had not been able
to find the man who had passed through the tap-room arrayed in Sir
Simon's fur coat, but mentioned that the coat itself had been
discovered. The magistrate, who seemed to be an open-minded man,
thought that this was a favourable sign for the prisoner, as the
missing man might possible be, and very probably was, the assassin.
But the lawyer who appeared for the prosecution pointed out that the
razor and the empty pocket-book had been found in Herries' room. He
dared the defence to explain how these came to be in the room of the
prisoner.
It was at this point that Michael Gowrie was called, and then all
present listened attentively, as this was the most important witness
of the lot, and assuredly,--according to common report,--would be able
to save the prisoner. The young lawyer who was acting for Herries
asked Gowrie a few questions relative to his position, and the reason
he had been at the "Marsh Inn" on the night in question. Then he asked
him to tell his story. This Gowrie did in his best English and very
earnestly. He knew that too much was at stake to commit himself to the
Scotch dialect, which would not be half understood by those present.
Gowrie's statement, made with considerable impudence, was to the
effect that Herries, on retiring to bed, was so excited by his
misfortunes that it was probable he would not sleep. Sorry for the
young man, Gowrie bethought himself of a small bottle of laudanum
which he possessed. He considered it his duty to give Herries a dose,
so that he might sleep.
"That was a dangerous thing to do," said the magistrate, rebukingly.
"It was, sir,--it was," replied the witness, "but Herries might have
gone off his head had he not obtained the needful rest. I deemed it my
duty as his old tutor and sincere well-wisher to drop a small quantity
of the soothing drug into the whisky which I took up to him.
Therefore, sir, I would point out, that as the prisoner was under the
influence of the drug, he certainly could not have risen in the night
to kill the deceased."
"Is there any evidence other than yours, to show that this drug was
given?" asked the magistrate, looking grave.
Gowrie mentioned Pope Narby, the son of the landlady, and the woman
herself. Both of these witnesses were recalled, and Pope stated that
he certainly saw Gowrie drop the laudanum into the whisky,--to make
the prisoner sleep as he had stated. Mrs. Narby gave evidence as to
the administration of the drugged liquor, and how readily the prisoner
had fallen into a deep slumber. Browne was recalled, and stated that
while under the influence of such a dose of laudanum, the prisoner
certainly could not have committed the crime, and then Gowrie
reiterated his statement with added proofs that the drug was so
administered.
Elspeth listened with joy, believing every word of her father's story.
Herries believed it also, but knew perfectly well that the drug had
been administered by Gowrie, not to make him sleep, since he was
already weary, but to enable the old scamp to rob him. He was on the
point of stating this, but thought that if he did so, Gowrie would
probably deny the charge, and such an accusation would complicate
matters. He therefore held his peace, and waited to see what would
come of this important piece of evidence.
The magistrate consulted with another official, and Trent was
recalled. The counsel for the prosecution questioned him and Gowrie
and the Narbys minutely, but after all, in the end, there was no doubt
in the minds of anyone that the laudanum had been so administered, and
that Herries, under the soporific influence, could not have left his
bed to commit the crime. After some delay, the magistrate therefore
did what he was forced to do--he acquitted Herries, who left the court
a free man, much to the joy of Elspeth. When the late prisoner
appeared outside the court, the news of his acquittal and the reason
of it had already preceded him, and he was welcomed by the large crowd
with great joy. With his wife Herries hurried to a cab, intending to
drive to Browne's house, and many a hand was stretched out to greet
him. Undoubtedly everyone was pleased that the young man had been
proved guiltless, and Elspeth, with the tears streaming down her face,
could do nothing but gaze into the eyes of her husband, who was thus
at large again.
Followed by shouting crowds, the cab drove to Dr. Browne's abode, but
Gowrie remained behind as the hero of the hour, and submitted, not
unwillingly, to the questioning of many reporters, who were anxious to
hear more. He related what he had said in the court, and protested
again and again that his only reason for giving the laudanum was to
make his son-in-law sleep. As there was no reason, on the face of it,
why he should not be believed, everyone thought that the old man spoke
the truth, and for once Gowrie enjoyed the sensation of being the lion
of the hour.
But Herries, much as he was indebted to his father-in-law, was not
quite satisfied. When Gowrie returned to Browne's house, the young man
drew him aside and questioned him closely.
"You robbed me of money," said Herries abruptly.
"Only a few shullings, laddie," chuckled Gowrie, "ye wudna hae me tak
awa ma ain character."
"And you gave me the drug so that you might rob me in safety?"
"Aye," Gowrie rubbed his hands, "joost sae. An' a lucky nicht it wis
for ye that I did pit the drug intae yon gless."
"You are a scoundrel, Gowrie."
"Eh! This tae yer paw-in-law, an' tae the mon wha saved yer life!"
"You wouldn't have saved my life if I had not married Elspeth," was
Herries' dry retort.
"Weel, maybe I wudnae hae pit maesel tae sic trouble. Hoots, mon, a
few shullin' against yer ain neck. It's gey cheap."
The old fellow was so shameless that Herries could say nothing. He
stopped rebuking a man who could not feel the force of a rebuke, and
went on another tack.
"When you came up to rob me, did you see or hear anything?"
"Aye, but I winna tell ye what I saw."
"You want to make more money out of it, I expect. Well, if you don't
tell me, I'll inform the police, and you----"
"Nae, nae, laddie. Dinna dae that. I'll tell ye. I saw a wumon in the
paussage. Aye, I dinna ken wha she wis, but I saw a petticoat."
"You SAW her?"
"Dinna pin me tae a word, my manny. It wis dark, ye ken, when I wis
paying ye a veesit, an'----"
"About what time was this. After twelve, or before it?"
"It wis nearer one o'clock in the morn," said Gowrie, after some
hesitation. "I wanted tae gie the drug time tae dae its marciful work.
I wis sleepin' in the tap-room, ye ken, aye, and a weary bed I hed,
laddie. When the clock--deil tak it for keeping me awake--struck the
haulf-hour, I joost slipped off mae shoon, and crept up tae see ye
sleepin' like a bairn."
"Had you a light?"
"Nae, nae, I wis nane sae dafty. A' the hoose, es I thocht, wis in
slumber, and I didnae care tae wauken the puir weary folk. I kenned
the lie o' the hoose weel enow, and joost crept up the stairs tae yer
room. The door wisnae closed. I saw tae that when I ganged up wi' yon
limmer, the Narby wumon. I came in lamb-like, nae wishful to disturb
ye, and then I struck a match. Ye were sleeping like a bairn," added
Gowrie pathetically, "an' I thanked my gude thocht for makin' ye
sleep. Aye, I wis a faither tae ye on that nicht, laddie."
"Well? Well?" questioned Herries impatiently.
"Weel, weel," reiterated Gowrie testily, "I turned oot the pockets of
yer troosers, and fund less nor I expected. But I wis thankful for
sma' marcies, and departed wi' the few shullin's, the which,"
protested Mr. Gowrie, "was scarce the price o' the beneficent drug I
gie ye tae mak ye sleep."
"To enable you to rob me you mean? Well, you saw----?"
"Naethin'. But I heard the swish o' a wumon's dress departing doon the
stairs. There, I'll tell ye nae mair. I dinna ken wha the female was.
Maybe the landlady?"
"Or Señora Guzman," replied Herries, much perplexed.