WHOSE VOICES?
Meeking, who by long experience knew the value of dramatic effect in the
examination of witnesses, took full advantage of Mrs. Mallett's strange
and unexpected announcement. He paused, staring at her--he knew well
enough that when he stared other folk would stare too. So for a full
moment the situation rested--there stood Mrs. Mallett, resolute and
unmoved, in the box, with every eye in the crowded court fixed full upon
her, and Meeking still gazing at her intently--and, of set purpose,
half-incredulously. There was something intentionally sceptical,
cynical, in his tone when, at last, he spoke:
"Do you say--on oath--that you went, through the door between Dr.
Wellesley's house and the Moot Hall, to the Mayor's Parlour--that
evening?"
"To the door of the Mayor's Parlour," corrected Mrs. Mallett. "Yes. I
do. I did!"
"Was the door closed?"
"The door was closed."
"But you say you heard voices?"
"I heard voices--within."
"Whose voices?"
"That I can't say. I couldn't distinguish them."
"Well, did you hear the Mayor's voice?"
"I tell you I couldn't distinguish any voice. There were two people
talking inside the Mayor's Parlour, anyway, in loud voices. It seemed to
me that they were both talking at the same time--in fact, I thought----"
"What did you think?" demanded Meeking, as Mrs. Mallett paused.
"Well, I thought that, whoever they were, the two people were
quarrelling--the voices were loud, lifted, angry, I thought."
"And yet you couldn't distinguish them?"
"No, I couldn't. I might have recognized the Mayor's voice perhaps, if
I'd gone closer to the door and listened, but I didn't stay. As soon as
I heard--what I have told you of--I went straight back."
"By the same way? To Dr. Wellesley's drawing-room?"
"Yes."
"What happened then?"
"I told Dr. Wellesley that the Mayor had somebody with him and that they
appeared to be having high words, and as I didn't want to stop he
suggested that I should come again next evening. Then I went home."
"In the same way--by the private door into Piper's Passage?"
"Exactly."
"Did Dr. Wellesley go downstairs with you and let you out?"
"He did."
"See anybody about on that occasion?"
"No--no one."
Meeking paused, and after a glance round the table at which he was
standing looked at his notes.
"Now, Mrs. Mallett," he said presently, "what time was this--I mean,
when you left Dr. Wellesley's?"
"A little before a quarter to eight. The clock struck a quarter to eight
just after I got into my own house."
"And--where is your house?"
"Next door to the Moot Hall. Dr. Wellesley's house is on one side of the
Moot Hall; ours is on the other."
"It would take you a very short time, then, to go home?"
"A minute or two."
"Very well. And you went to Dr. Wellesley's at 7.30?"
"Just about that."
"Then you were with him most of the time you were there--in his
drawing-room?"
"Certainly! All the time except for the two or three minutes spent in
going to the Mayor's Parlour."
"Talking to Dr. Wellesley?"
"Of course! What do you suppose I went for?"
"That's just what I want to find out!" retorted Meeking, with a glance
that took in the audience, now all agog with excitement. "Will you tell
us, Mrs. Mallett?"
Mrs. Mallett's handsome face became rigid, and her well-cut lips fixed
themselves in a straight line. But she relaxed them to rap out one word.
"No!"
"Come, now, Mrs. Mallett! This is a serious, a very serious inquiry. It
is becoming more serious the more it becomes mysterious, and it is
becoming increasingly mysterious. You have already told us that you went
secretly to Dr. Wellesley's house in order that you might see him and,
afterwards, the Mayor, Mr. Wallingford. Now, you must have had some very
special reason, or cause, for these interviews. Tell me what it was.
What was it, Mrs. Mallett?"
"No! That's my business! Nobody else's. I shall not say."
"Does Dr. Wellesley know what it was?"
"Of course!"
"Would the Mayor have known if you'd seen him?"
"Considering that that was the object I had in wanting to see him, of
course he would!" retorted Mrs. Mallett. "I should think that's
obvious."
"But you didn't see him, eh?"
"You know very well I didn't!"
"Pardon me, madam," said Meeking with lightning-like promptitude. "I
don't know anything of the sort! However, does anyone else know of
this--business?"
"That, too, is my concern," declared Mrs. Mallett, who had bridled
indignantly at the barrister's swift reply. "I shan't say."
"Does your husband know of it?"
"I'm not going to say that, either!"
"Did your husband--who, I believe, is one of the Town Trustees--did he
know of your visit to Dr. Wellesley's house on this particular
occasion?"
"I'll answer that! He did not."
"Where was he, while you were at Dr. Wellesley's? Had you left him at
home?"
"No, he had gone out before I went out myself. As to where he was, I
should say he was either at the Conservative Club or at Mr. Simon
Crood's. Is it relevant?"
Amidst a ripple of laughter Meeking made a gesture which signified that
he had done with Mrs. Mallett, and she presently stepped down from the
witness-box. Meeking turned to the Coroner.
"I want to have Dr. Wellesley in that box again, sir," he said.
"Let Dr. Wellesley be recalled," commanded the Coroner.
Wellesley, once more in the full gaze of the court, looked vexed and
impatient. Those who had occasionally glanced at him while Mrs. Mallett
was giving her evidence had observed that he showed signs of being by no
means pleased at the turn things had taken since her sudden
intervention--sometimes he had frowned; once or twice he had muttered to
himself. And he now looked blackly at Meeking as the barrister once more
confronted him.
"You have heard the evidence of the last witness?" asked Meeking
abruptly.
"All of it," replied Wellesley.
"Is it correct as to details of time?"
"So far as I recollect, quite!"
"When Mrs. Mallett went by the private door between your drawing-room
and the Moot Hall to see the Mayor, what did you do?"
"Waited for her in my drawing-room."
"How long was she away?"
"Five minutes perhaps."
"Had you made any appointment with the Mayor on her behalf?"
"No. I had not."
"You sent her to see him on the chance of her finding him there--in the
Mayor's Parlour?"
"There was no chance about it. I knew--as a good many other people
did--that just then Wallingford spent almost every evening in the
Mayor's Parlour."
"Had you ever visited him in the Mayor's Parlour during these evening
attendances of his?"
"Oh, yes--several times!"
"By this communicating door?"
"Certainly. And he had made use of it in coming to see me."
"Do you know what the Mayor was doing on these occasions--I mean, do you
know why he spent so much time at the Mayor's Parlour of an evening?"
"Yes. He was going as thoroughly as he could into the financial affairs
of the Corporation."
"Now I want to put a very particular question to you--with the object of
getting at some solution of this mystery. What was Mrs. Mallett's
business with you and the Mayor?"
"I cannot reply to that."
"You won't give me an answer?"
"I won't!"
"Do you base your refusal on professional privilege, doctor?"
"No! Not at all. Mrs. Mallett's business was of an absolutely private
nature. It had nothing whatever to do with the subject of this
inquiry--I tell you that on my honour, on my oath. Nothing whatever!"
"You mean--directly?"
Meeking threw a good deal of significance into this question, which he
put slowly, and with a peculiarly meaning glance at his witness. But
Wellesley either did not see or affected not to see any significance,
and his answer came promptly:
"I mean precisely what I say--as I always do."
Meeking leaned across the table, eyeing Wellesley still more closely.
"Do you think, knowing all that you do now, that it had anything to do
with it indirectly? Indirectly!"
Self-controlled though he was, Wellesley could not repress a start of
surprise at this question. It was obviously unexpected--and it seemed to
those who, like Brent and Tansley, were watching him narrowly, that he
was considerably taken aback by it. He hesitated.
"I want an answer to that," said Meeking, after a pause.
"Well," replied Wellesley at last, "I can't say. What I mean by that is
that I am not in a position to say. I am not sufficiently acquainted
with--let me call them facts to be able to say. What I do say is that
Mrs. Mallett's business with me and with Wallingford that evening was of
an essentially private nature and had nothing whatever to do with what
happened in the Mayor's Parlour just about the time she was in my
drawing-room."
"That is, as far as you are aware?"
"As far as I am aware--yes! But I am quite sure it hadn't."
"You can't give this court any information that would help to solve this
problem?"
"I cannot!"
"Well, a question or two more. When Mrs. Mallett left you at your door
in Piper's Passage--I mean, when you let her out, just before a quarter
to eight, what did you next do?"
"I went upstairs again to my drawing-room."
"May I ask why?"
"Yes. I thought of going to see Wallingford, in the Mayor's Parlour."
"Did you go?"
"No. I should have gone, but I suddenly remembered that I had an
appointment with a patient in Meadow Gate at ten minutes to eight
o'clock. So I went back to the surgery, exchanged my jacket for a coat
and went out."
"On your oath, have you the slightest idea as to who killed John
Wallingford?"
"I have not the least idea! I never have had."
Meeking nodded, as much as to imply that he had no further questions to
ask; when his witness had stepped down, he turned to the Coroner.
"I should like to have Bunning, the caretaker, recalled, sir," he said.
"I want to ask him certain questions which have just occurred to me.
Bunning," he continued, when the ex-sergeant had been summoned to the
witness-box, "I want you to give me some information about the relation
of your rooms to the upper portion of the Moot Hall. You live in rooms
on the ground floor, don't you? Yes? Very well, now, is there any
entrance to your rooms other than that at the front of the building--the
entrance from the market-place?"
"Yes, sir. There's an entrance from St. Lawrence Lane, at the back."
"Is there any way from your rooms to the upper floors of the Moot Hall?"
"Yes, sir. There's a back stair, from our back door."
"Could anybody reach the Mayor's Parlour by that stair?"
"They could, sir, certainly; but either me or my wife would see them."
"Just so, if you were in your rooms. But you told us in your first
evidence that from about 7.20 or so until eight o'clock you were smoking
your pipe at the market-place entrance to the Moot Hall, where, of
course, you couldn't see your back door. That correct? Very well. Now,
while you were at the front, was your wife in your rooms at the back?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know what she was doing?"
"I do, sir. She was getting our supper ready."
"Are you sure she never left the house--your rooms, you know?"
Bunning started. Obviously, a new idea had occurred.
"Ay!" said Meeking, with a smile. "Just so, Bunning. You're not sure?"
"Well, sir," replied Bunning slowly, "now that I come to think of it,
I'm not! It never occurred to me before, but during that time my missis
may have been out of the place for a few minutes or so, to fetch the
supper beer, sir."
"To be sure! Now where does Mrs. Bunning get your supper beer?"
"At the _Chancellor_ Vaults, sir--round the corner."
Meeking turned quietly to the Coroner.
"I think we ought to have Mrs. Bunning's evidence," he remarked.
It took ten minutes to fetch Mrs. Bunning from her rooms in the lower
regions of the old Moot Hall. She came at last, breathless, and in her
working attire, and turned a wondering, good-natured face on the
barrister.
"Just a little question or two, Mrs. Bunning," he said
half-indifferently. "On the evening of the late Mayor's death, did you
go out to the _Chancellor_ Vaults to fetch your supper beer?"
"I did, sir--just as usual."
"What time?"
"A bit earlier than usual, sir--half-past seven."
"How long were you away?"
"Why, sir, to tell you the truth, nigh on to half an hour. I met a
neighbour at the corner and----"
"Exactly! And stopped chatting a bit. So you were out of your rooms in
the Moot Hall that evening from 7.30 to nearly eight o'clock?"
"Yes, sir."
Meeking gave the Coroner a glance, thrust his hands into his pockets,
and dropped back into his seat--silent and apparently satisfied.