AT BROXBRIDGE HALL――THE EARL AND HIS LAWYER.
“I suppose you have heard the news, my lord,” said Mr. Wrench to Earl
Ethalwood, “the prisoner, Chudley, has attempted to escape.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the earl, in a tone of surprise. “No I have not
heard anything about it till this moment; but I hope and trust he was
not successful.”
“No; it was discovered only just in time. A few hours later and he
would in all probability have succeeded.”
“Miserably-guilty wretch!” ejaculated the earl. “Give me the full
particulars.
Mr. Wrench entered into a detailed description of the events which
have been described in the previous chapter. When he had concluded he
said――
“It is a pretty convincing proof that the prisoner is guilty, and will
prejudice self in the eyes of the judge and jury.”
“Ah, no doubt; but the evidence is conclusive, and cannot lead but to
one conclusion. What say you?”
“Yes, it is pretty clear for the matter of that; but one never knows
what may take place――juries sometimes take such singular freaks in
their heads. From what I have been able to gather, Mr. Slapperton is
going to offer evidence to prove an alibi.”
“Which he will fail in doing. Take my word for it, Mr. Wrench, this as
well as other rumours we have heard have not truth for their basis.
The man is guilty enough. My brother magistrates agree with me in that
opinion. As to Slapperton, he is not worth notice. He’s a noisy
wrangler, who is bent upon making as much display as possible for the
purpose of gaining popularity; and in this respect it is just possible
that he has succeeded to a certain extent. There are, and I suppose
always will be, a certain class of persons who admire a blatant,
unscrupulous lawyer.”
“Oh, there can be no question about that, my lord――none whatever,”
returned the detective.
“I am glad you agree with me in this. Well, we acted wisely, I think,
in committing the prisoner without any adjournment. I do not hold with
protracted examinations. It has been truly remarked that, under the
old system, an inquiry into a criminal charge before a magistrate was
less an investigation of the entire circumstances of the case than an
examination of the prisoner. Certain broad facts were stated, certain
leading witnesses were examined, and the prisoner was then requested
to explain himself. In serious cases he was closely and sharply
questioned; and abundant testimony as to this practice may be found by
turning to the newspaper reports of the proceedings before the
magistrates in the _cause celèbre_ of the murder at Gill’s Hill.
Thurtell, Hunt, and Probert, being suspected of the murder of Mr.
Weare, were examined by the bench as to their complicity, and, their
evidence being considered unsatisfactory, they were duly committed for
trial.”
“I am not able to speak from my own personal knowledge,” said Mr.
Chicknell, “as it was before my time; but I have carefully read the
reports of the case, and I may say that it is much to be regretted
that the practice of questioning the prisoner has been discontinued.
Now we always treat great criminals with so much consideration and
deference that they must not be annoyed, or their feelings hurt by
being asked questions. The modern system is virtually to induce the
prisoner to hold his tongue very tenaciously indeed, while the lawyers
are encouraged to be as discursive and verbose as they please. The
value of the evidence one way or the other is heavily discounted. The
real facts of the case get mixed up in an inextricable tangle, heavy
expense is entailed on the country, and almost ruinous costs are
incurred by the prisoner.”
“But what sense is there in these forensic wrangles?” said the earl.
“They may be, and doubless are, very fine sport to the legal gentlemen
engaged in the case, but they are essentially futile, and in the end
are detrimental to the interests of justice.”
“There is hardly an instance of a case being heard without them,” said
the detective. “Of course it is not my business to comment on the
practice in these cases, but I have been compelled to listen with
exemplary patience to wordy passages of arms between astute and
sometimes irate barristers and witnesses quite as cunning of fence,
but better able to keep their temper.”
“You are a martyr, Wrench――a suffering martyr,” exclaimed Chicknell,
bursting out into a laugh, in which the earl joined.
“I don’t put it so strong as that, sir. It is the magistrate who is
the martyr. He is bound to sit patiently while a multitude of
perfectly irrelevant matters are introduced, discussed, and squabbled
over. It is as clear as noonday that his decision cannot be influenced
one way or the other by these interminable debates; still the lawyers,
being paid to talk like Mr. Slapperton, are praiseworthily anxious to
earn their fees.”
“But touching this man――the prisoner, Chudley,” inquired the earl,
bringing the discussion to an end――“he will be well looked after now,
I suppose; more rigid measures will be adopted by the prison
authorities?”
“Oh, there is not the least doubt of that, my lord. There will not be
the most remote possibility of his effecting his escape.”
“He appears to be a much more acute, daring fellow than we were led to
suppose.”
“The skill, perseverance, and ingenuity he has displayed have
surprised everybody,” answered the detective, who, after some further
conversation, took his departure.
“And now Mr. Chicknell,” said the earl, shortly after Wrench had left,
“in dealing with the Larchgrove murder I am actuated by a sense of
justice and my duty to the public as a magistrate. There is a private
matter which more immediately concerns me――doubtless you will be able
to guess what this is.”
“You allude to your grand-daughter, I presume,” observed the lawyer,
in an undertone.
“Precisely――you guess rightly; but the matter rests more specially
with the young man she was imprudent and indiscreet enough to marry.”
Mr. Chicknell nodded. He thought that was the safest course to adopt,
very well knowing to what his client’s observations were tending.
“I say again the matter rests more with this young engineer――this――ahem,
Gatliffe.”
The attorney nodded again.
“You see, Chicknell,” said the other in a confidential tone, “I really
don’t think matters can go on thus. There is an imperative necessity
to bring them to an issue. Aveline is now――if I may make use of the
term――naturalised; she feels her position――is proud of it, and has, I
hope, nothing to regret――she certainly ought not to; but still
something remains to be done, not only to secure her fealty to me, but
happiness for herself.”
“Happiness?” repeated the lawyer.
“Certainly, Mr. Chicknell; most undoubtedly――happiness, contentment,
peace of mind, or whatever other term you may choose to make use of to
convey my meaning. We will not quarrel about words, which, after all,
are but signs or symbols for the expression of ideas, passions, or
sentiments.”
“I understand your meaning. Pray proceed, my lord.”
“Well, then, to begin with. I, as you already know, have placed my
grand-daughter under the charge of an accomplished lady, who has so
well instructed her that she is now well versed in all the usages of
good society. So much so, indeed, that she is pretty generally
acknowledged to be, if not a highly-cultivated, certainly a well-bred
young woman.”
“No one in the world would attempt to dispute that, my lord.”
“This being so, it is desirable that she should never have the chance
to return to her husband, or any of his associates. Consequently, a
legal separation is an imperative necessity.”
When the earl had come to this part of his discourse he regarded his
companion with a look which seemed to pierce him through.
“Ah,” murmured the lawyer to himself, “he’s boring at the old
subject.”
“Do you hear what I say? An imperative necessity!”
“Certainly, my lord. The chief question is, how it is to be
accomplished.”
“It is easy enough if set about in a proper manner. Have you seen this
young Gatliffe?”
“I have, more than once.”
“Well, and did you make any proposition to him? Did you carry out my
expressed desire?”
“I did, my lord.”
“With what result?”
“He seems to me to be perfectly indifferent. He is quite willing to
resign all claim to his wife; but, to say the truth, he is so
strangely altered, so utterly broken down and apathetic, if I may so
term it, that――――”
“Well, what? Speak unreservedly, Chicknell.”
“That I pitied him.”
“Bah!” exclaimed the earl, in a tone of ineffable disgust. “Pity,
indeed!”
“You told me to speak unreservedly,” observed Chicknell.
“Ah, true, I had forgot. Well, you have done so. But now to business.
Will he consent to a separation?”
“Certainly; he has told me that.”
“Aveline has many admirers. It would afford me great pleasure to see
her united to some scion of the aristocracy――somebody in her own
sphere. This is my most earnest desire, and this is sure to come to
pass if she can be released from the odious bonds which bear so
heavily upon her.”
“If she desires to marry again we must obtain a divorce.”
“Precisely; that is what I desire.”
“Ah, that’s another matter,” observed the lawyer. “It can only be
obtained upon one or more of these pleas――cruelty, adultery, or
desertion.”
“Well, can’t you plead one of these?”
“Yes, but we have to offer sufficient proof, and this we are unable to
do, as far as I can see at present.”
“Hang it, Chicknell, surely there must be some way of getting over
this difficulty?” exclaimed the earl, in a tone of irritation. “It
must be done.”
“I don’t see how. Certainly it would be an unopposed suit. Gatliffe
would not offer any objection.”
“I will settle a handsome annuity on him for the remainder of his
life. Tell him that.”
“I have done so.”
“And what said he?”
“It is not a money question. Virtually he has given up all claim to
his wife, and he is willing to resign her legally, but he will not
receive one shilling for so doing. There is a great deal of chivalrous
spirit about him, which, I must tell you frankly, I greatly admire;
but chivalry is one thing, and the law of England is another. You, as
a magistrate, must be perfectly aware of this.”
“I have no belief in the chivalry of a person of his class; but we are
not here to discuss fanciful and fabulous forms of chivalry. You must
obtain a divorce at any cost――mind you that.”
Mr. Chicknell laughed.
“You are very positive, my lord,” he observed. “I suppose you would
not like me to manufacture evidence, as it is termed.”
“Certainly not. The end can be obtained by some other means; only I
tell you again, Aveline must be released from the tie which is, to say
the truth, the very bane of her existence.”
“I will consult my partner, and determine how to take action in the
suit. I will then communicate with your lordship.”
“Enough. So let the matter rest for the present. But pray hurry on the
matter at as early a day as possible.”
“And now, Chicknell, having arranged this business thus far, let us
return to the prisoner Chudley. The assizes will soon be on, and the
case will be taken as early as possible. You know, I suppose, that
Miss Jamblin has been staying with us――the reason for this being
change of scene. Aveline is very partial to her, and I think it best
that they should be out of the way when the Larchgrove-lane murder
case comes before the court; and I have arranged that they should both
go to my house in the metropolis, and stay there till this painful
business is over. Chudley will of course be convicted.”
“I should suppose so, but I will not answer for it, as Wrench
says――and he has had a pretty good insight into matters of this sort.
Juries take such strange crotchets in their heads. Still it is fair to
assume that he will be convicted.”
“In any case the two young ladies had better be out of the way.”
While the foregoing conversation was taking place in the
reception-room of the grand old hall, Patty Jamblin and Aveline were
in the pleasure grounds.
They had for a companion and protector a Mr. Frank Wrexford, son of
Sir Mathew Wrexford, the baronet from whose house Henry Adolphus was
coming on the night of the murder.
Patty, pale, silent, and thoughtful, was no longer the sprightly,
mirthful girl, who had been the light and life of Stoke Ferry Farm,
but she had greatly improved in health and strength since she had been
at the Hall.
Young Wrexford, who was an Oxford oarsman, persuaded the young ladies
to permit him to give them a row on the lake in the pleasure grounds
of Broxbridge. While plying his oars he kept up an animated
conversation, told them a number of amusing anecdotes, and paid marked
attention to the earl’s grand-daughter, who, however, did not appear
to offer him any encouragement.
Aveline, like a true Ethalwood, was proud, and it was not everyone she
took to.
The boat sped on over the glassy surface of the lake.
“I should like to see you both in better spirits,” said Wrexford; “but
past events, I suppose.”
“It is hardly worth while, or, indeed, prudent, to refer to past
events,” cried Aveline. “Let us look to the future.”
“Ah! that is always the wisest course. The past is out of your reach,
and cannot be recalled; the future may bring us unclouded sunshine,
and a recompense for the past.”
“I am sure it’s very kind of you to take compassion on us, poor
creatures,” observed Miss Jamblin, hardly knowing very well what to
say.
“It is a pleasure――an indulgence――on your part to trust yourselves
with so poor a waterman as myself,” returned the young man; “but say
when you would like to go on shore.”
The ladies said they were in no hurry, and in about half an hour after
this the boat was put in shore. The rower held the prow, and offered
his arm to each lady as they alighted. He then left them to pay his
respects to the master of Broxbridge.
“He’s very nice――isn’t he?” said Patty to her companion.
“Pretty well――middling,” returned Aveline.
“I do not quite understand all he says,” observed Miss Jamblin.
“Oh, you’ll understand his fine speeches and metaphors in good
time――that is if you know him long enough. He’s well enough, but not
altogether my sort.”
“Why, what’s the matter with him?” inquired the unsophisticated
farmer’s daughter.”
“I don’t know that there’s anything particular the matter with him,
but he’s artificial, that’s all.”
Henry Adolphus now came into the grounds and informed his young
mistress that the earl wished to speak to her and Miss Jamblin.
Both young ladies hastened into the hall.