BEHIND THE PANEL
Despite the admonitions of the presiding magistrate, and the stern
voices of sundry officials, posted here and there about the court, a
hubbub of excited comment and murmur broke out on Krevin Crood's
dramatic announcement. Nor was the excitement confined to the public
benches and galleries; round the solicitors' table there was a putting
together of heads and an exchange of whisperings; on the bench itself,
crowded to its full extent, some of the magistrates so far forgot their
judicial position as to bend towards each other with muttered words and
knowing looks. Suddenly, from somewhere in the background, a strident
voice made its tones heard above the commotion:
"He knows! Let him tell what he knows! Let's hear all about it!"
"Silence!" commanded the chairman. "If this goes on, I shall have the
court cleared. Any further interruption----" He interrupted himself,
glancing dubiously at Krevin. "I think you would be well advised----"
"I want no advice!" retorted Krevin. Simon had been at his elbow,
anxious and pleading, for the last minute: he, it was very evident, was
sorely concerned by Krevin's determination to speak. "I claim my right
to have my say, at this stage, and I shall have it--all this has gone on
long enough, and I don't propose to have it go on any longer. I had
nothing to do with the murder of Wallingford, but I know who had, and
I'm not going to keep the knowledge to myself, now that things have come
to this pass. You'd better listen to a plain and straightforward tale,
instead of to bits of a story here and bits of a story there."
The chairman turned to those of his brother magistrates who were sitting
nearest to him and, after a whispered consultation with them and with
the clerk, nodded not over graciously at the defiant figure in the dock.
"We will hear your statement," he said. "You had better go into the
witness-box and make it on oath."
Krevin moved across to the witness-box with alacrity and went through
the usual formalities as only a practised hand could. He smiled
cynically as he folded his fingers together on the ledge of the box and
faced the excited listeners.
"As there's no one to ask me any questions--at this stage, anyway--I'd
better tell my story in my own fashion," he said. "And to save time and
needless explanations, let me begin by saying that, as far as it went,
all the evidence your Worships have heard, from the police, from Louisa
Speck, from Dr. Pellery, from Spizey and his wife, from everybody, I
think, is substantially correct--entirely correct, I might say, for I
don't remember anything that I could contradict. The whole thing
is--what does it lead up to? In the opinion of the police to identifying
me with the actual murder of John Wallingford, and my brother there with
being accessory to the crime. The police, as usual, are absolutely and
entirely at fault--I did not kill Wallingford, and accordingly my
brother could not be an accessory to what I did not do and never had the
remotest intention of doing. Now you shall hear how circumstantial
evidence, brought to a certain point, is of no value whatever if it
can't be carried past that point. Hawthwaite has got his evidence to a
certain point--and now he's up against a blank wall. He doesn't know
what lies behind that blank wall. I do! And I'm the only person in this
world who does.
"Now listen to a plain, truthful, unvarnished account of the real facts.
On the evening of the day before Wallingford's murder, I was in the big
saloon at Bull's Snug between half-past six and seven o'clock. Mallett
came in, evidently in search of somebody. It turned out that I was the
person he was looking for. He came up to me and told me that his wife
was away and that he was giving a little dinner-party to my brother
Simon and to Coppinger. They were already at his house, and he and they
were anxious that I should join them. Now, I knew quite enough of my
brother Simon, and of Coppinger, and of Mallett himself to know that if
they wanted my company it was with some ulterior motive, and being a
straightforward man I said so there and then. Mallett admitted it--they
had, he said, a matter of business to propose to me. I had no objection
and I went with him. What the girl, Louisa Speck, has told you about
what happened after I entered the Bank House is quite correct--she's a
reliable and a good witness and gave her evidence most intelligently.
She took me up into Mallett's dressing-room, showed me where I could get
what I wanted, and left me to make my toilet. I helped myself to clean
linen, and I have no doubt whatever that the handkerchief which I took
from one of the drawers which the girl had opened for me was that of Dr.
Wellesley's of which we have heard so much in this case. I say, I have
no doubt whatever about that--in fact, I am sure of it.
"Having made my toilet, I went downstairs and joined my host and his
other guests. We had a glass or two of Mallett's excellent sherry, and
in due course we dined--dined very well indeed. When dinner was over,
Mallett got up some of his old port, and we settled down to our business
talk. I very quickly discovered why I had been brought into it. What we
may call the war between Wallingford, as leader of the reform party, and
the Town Trustees, as representatives of the old system, had come to a
definite stage, and Mallett, Coppinger, and my brother, Simon, realized
that it was high time they opened negotiations with the enemy. They
wanted, in short, to come to terms, and they were anxious that I, as a
lawyer, as a man thoroughly acquainted with the affairs of the borough,
and as a former official of high standing, should act as intermediary,
or ambassador, or go-between, whatever you like to call it, in the
matter at issue between them and Wallingford. Of course I was willing.
"Mallett acted as chief spokesman, in putting matters plainly before me.
He said that Wallingford, since his election as Mayor of Hathelsborough,
had found out a lot--a great deal more than they wished him to know. He
had accumulated facts, figures, statistics; he had contrived to possess
himself of a vast amount of information, and he was steadily and
persistently accumulating more. There was no doubt whatever, said
Mallett, as to what were the intentions of Wallingford and his
party--though up to then Wallingford's party did not know all that
Wallingford knew. There was to be a clean sweep of everything that
existed under the Town Trustee system. The Town Trustees themselves were
to go. All pensions were to be done away with. All secret payments and
transactions were to be unearthed and prohibited for the future. The
entire financial business of the town was to be placed in the care of
the Corporation. In short, everything was to be turned upside-down, and
the good old days to cease. That was what was to happen if Wallingford
went triumphantly on his way.
"But it was the belief of Mallett, and of Coppinger, and of my brother,
Simon, that Wallingford's way could be barred. How? Well, all three
believed that Wallingford could be bought off. They believed that
Wallingford had his price; that he could be got at; that he could be
squared. All three of them are men who believe that every man has his
price. I believe that myself, and I'm not ashamed of voicing my belief.
Every man can be bought--if you can only agree on a price with him. Now,
the Town Trustees knew that Wallingford had ambitions; they knew what
some of his ambitions were, and of one in particular. They proposed to
buy him in that way, and they commissioned me to see him privately and
to offer him certain terms.
"The terms were these. If Wallingford would drop his investigations and
remain quiet for the remaining period of his mayoralty, the Town
Trustees would agree to the making and carrying out of certain minor
reforms which should be engineered by and credited to Wallingford in
order to save his face with his party. Moreover, they would guarantee to
Wallingford a big increase in his practice as a solicitor, and they
would promise him their united support when a vacancy arose in the
Parliamentary representation of Hathelsborough, which vacancy, they
knew, would occur within the year, as the sitting member had intimated
his intention of resigning. Now, this last was the big card I was to
play--we all knew that Wallingford was extremely desirous of
Parliamentary honours, and that he was very well aware that with the
Town Trustees on his side he would win handsomely, whoever was brought
against him. I was to play that card for all it was worth. So then the
proposal was--Wallingford was to draw off his forces, and he was to be
rewarded as I have said. Not a man of us doubted that he would be
tempted by the bait, and would swallow it."
Brent leapt to his feet and flung a scornful exclamation across the
court.
"Then not a man of you knew him!" he cried. "He'd have flung your bribe
back into the dirty hands that offered it!"
But Krevin Crood smiled more cynically than ever.
"That's all you know, young man," he retorted. "You'll know more when
you're my age. Well," he continued, turning his back on Brent and again
facing the bench, "that was the situation. I was to act as ambassador,
and if I succeeded in my embassy I was to be well paid for my labour."
"By the Town Trustees?" inquired the chairman.
"By the Town Trustees, certainly," replied Krevin. "Who else? As my
principals----"
"I think you will have to tell us what fee, or payment, you were to
have," interrupted the chairman. "If----"
"Oh, as the whole thing's come to nothing, I don't mind telling that,"
said Krevin. "I shall never get it now, so why not talk of it? I was to
have a thousand pounds."
"As reward for inducing the Mayor to withhold from the public certain
information which he had acquired as regards the unsatisfactory
condition of the borough finances?" asked the chairman.
"Y-es, if you put it that way," assented Krevin. "You might put it
another way, as regards the Mayor. He was to--just let things slide."
"Go on, if you please," said the chairman dryly. "We understand."
"Well," continued Krevin cheerfully, "we settled my mission over
Mallett's port. The next thing was for me to carry it out. It was
necessary to do this immediately--we knew that Wallingford had carried
his investigations to such an advanced stage that he might make the
results public at any moment. Now, I did not want anyone to know of my
meeting with him--I wanted it to be absolutely secret. But I knew how
to bring that about. Wallingford spent nearly every evening alone in the
Mayor's Parlour--I knew how to reach the Mayor's Parlour unobserved. The
secret of which Dr. Pellery has just told you was also known to me--I
discovered the passage between St. Lawrence tower and the Moot Hall many
years ago. And I determined to get at Wallingford by way of that
passage.
"About seven o'clock of the evening on which Wallingford was murdered, I
called at Spizey's cottage in St. Lawrence churchyard and got the keys
of the church from him, on the excuse that I wanted to copy an
inscription. I locked myself into the church, and went up to the chamber
in the tower. I spent some little time there, considering the details of
my plan of campaign, before going along the secret passage. It would be
about half-past seven, perhaps more, when I at last slipped open the
panel, and crossed over to the Moot Hall. The panel at the other end of
the passage, which admits to the Mayor's Parlour, is the fifth one on
the left-hand side of that room; I undid it very cautiously and
silently. There was then no one in the parlour. All was silent. I looked
through the crack of the panel. There was no one in the place at all.
Incidentally, I may mention that when I thus took an observation of the
parlour I noticed that on an old oak chest, standing by the wainscoting
and immediately behind the Mayor's chair and desk, lay the rapier which
was produced at the inquest, and with which he, undoubtedly, was killed.
"I suddenly heard the handle of the door into the corridor turned, then
Wallingford's voice. I slipped the panel back till it was nearly
closed, and stood with my ear against it, listening. Wallingford was not
alone. He had a woman with him. And I made out, in their first exchange
of words, that he had met her in the corridor just outside the door of
the Mayor's Parlour and that they were quarrelling and both in high
temper. I----"
"Stop!" exclaimed the chairman, lifting his hand as an excited murmur
began to run round the court. "Silence! If there is any
interruption--Now," he went on, turning to Krevin, "you say you heard
Mr. Wallingford come into the Mayor's Parlour and that he was
accompanied by a woman, with whom he was having high words. Did you see
this woman?"
"No, I saw neither her nor Wallingford. I only heard their voices."
"Did you recognize her voice as that of any woman you knew?"
"I did--unmistakably! I knew quite well who she was."
"Who was she, then?"
Krevin shook his head.
"For the moment--wait!" he replied. "Let me tell my tale in my own way.
To resume, I say they--she and Wallingford--were having high words. I
could tell, for instance, that he was in a temper which I should call
furious. I overheard all that was said. He was wanting to know as they
entered the room how she had got there. She replied that she had watched
Mrs. Bunning out of her house from amongst the bushes in St. Lawrence
churchyard, and had then slipped in at Bunning's back door, being
absolutely determined to see him. Wallingford answered that she would
get no good by waylaying him; he had found her out and was done with
her; she was an impostor, an adventuress; she had come to the end of her
tether. She then demanded some letters--her letters; there were excited
words about this from each, and it was not easy to catch all that was
said; at times they were both speaking together. But she got in a clear
demand at last--was he or was he not going to hand those letters over?
He said no, he was not--they were going to remain in his possession as a
hold over her; she was a danger to the community with her plottings and
underhand ways, and he intended to show certain of those letters to
others. There was more excited wrangling over this--I heard Dr.
Wellesley's name mentioned, then Mallett's: I also heard some reference,
which I couldn't make head or tail of, to money and documents. In the
midst of all this Wallingford suddenly told her to go; he had had enough
of it, and had his work to attend to. Once more she demanded the
letters; he answered with a very peremptory negative. Then I heard a
sound as of his chair being pulled up to his desk, followed by a brief
silence. Then, all of a sudden, I heard another sound, half-cry,
half-groan, and a sort of dull thud, as if something had fallen. A
moment later, as I was wondering what had happened, and what to do, I
heard the door which opens into the corridor close gently. And at that I
pushed back the panel and looked into the Mayor's Parlour."
It seemed to Brent that every soul in that place, from the grey-haired
chairman on the bench to the stolid-faced official by the witness-box
was holding his breath, and that every eye was fastened on Krevin Crood
with an irresistible fascination. There was a terrible silence in the
court as Krevin paused, terminated by an involuntary sigh of relief as
he made signs of speaking again. And, in that instant, Brent saw Mrs.
Elstrick, the tall gaunt woman of whom he had heard at least one
mysterious piece of news from Hawthwaite, quietly slip out of her place
near the outer door and vanish; he saw too that no one but himself saw
her go, so absorbed were all others in what was coming.
"When I saw--what I did see," continued Krevin, in a low, concentrated
tone, "I went in. The Mayor was lying across his desk, still, quiet. I
touched his shoulder--and got blood on my fingers. I knew then what had
happened--the woman had snatched up that rapier and run him through. I
pulled out my handkerchief--the handkerchief I had taken from Mallett's
drawer--wiped my hand, and threw the handkerchief in the fire. Then I
took up a mass of papers and a memorandum book which Wallingford had
laid down--and went away by the passage. And that's the plain truth! I
should never have told it if I hadn't been arrested. I care nothing at
all that Wallingford was killed by this woman--not I! I shouldn't have
cared if she'd gone scot-free. But if it's going to be my neck or hers,
well, I prefer it to be hers. And there you are!"
"Once again," said the chairman, "who was this woman?"
Krevin Crood might have been answering the most casual of casual
questions.
"Who?" he replied. "Why--Mrs. Saumarez!"