PETER RYLAND--THE REV. MR. FAKER AND THE WELSH WILL.
I was retained at Hertford Assizes, with Peter Ryland as my leader, to
prosecute a man for perjury, which was alleged to have been committed
in an action in which a cantankerous man, who had once filled the
office of High Sheriff for the county, was the prosecutor. Wealthy and
disagreeable, he was nevertheless a henpecked tyrant.
Mrs. Brown, his wife, was a witness for the prosecution in the alleged
perjury--which was unfortunate for her husband, because she had the
greatest knowledge of the circumstances surrounding the case; while
Mr. Brown had the best knowledge of the probable quality of his wife's
evidence.
When we were in consultation and considering the nature of this
evidence, and arranging the best mode of presenting our case to the
jury, Brown interposed, and begged that Mr. Ryland should call Mrs.
Brown as the _last_ witness, instead of first, which was the proper
course. "Because," said he, "_if anything goes wrong during the trial
or anything is wanting, Mrs. Brown will be quite ready to mop it all
up_."
This in a prosecution for _perjury_ was one of the boldest
propositions I had ever heard.
I need not say that good Mrs. Brown was called, as she ought to have
been, first. The lady's mop was not in requisition at that stage of
the trial, and the jury decided against her.
I was sometimes in the Divorce Court, and old Jack Holker was
generally my opponent. He was called "Long Odds." In one particular
case I won some _éclat_. It is not related on that account, however,
but simply in consequence of its remarkable incidents. No case is
interesting unless it is outside the ordinary stock-in-trade of the
Law Courts, and I think this was.
The details are not worth telling, and I therefore pass them by.
Cresswell was the President, and the future President, Hannen, my
junior.
We won a great victory through the remarkable over-confidence and
indiscretion of Edwin James, Q.C., who opposed us. James's client was
the husband of the deceased. By her will the lady had left him the
whole of her property, amounting to nearly £100,000. The case we set
up was that the wife had been improperly influenced by her husband in
making it, and that her mind was coerced into doing what she did not
intend to do, and so we sought to set aside the will on that ground.
Edwin James had proved a very strong case on behalf of the validity of
the will. He had called the attesting witnesses, and they, respectable
gentlemen as they undoubtedly were, had proved all that was
necessary--namely, that the testator, notwithstanding that she was in
a feeble condition and almost at the last stage, was perfectly calm
and capable in mind and understanding--exactly, in fact, as a testator
ought to be who wills her property to her husband if he retains her
affection.
The witnesses had been cross-examined by me, and nothing had
been elicited that cast the least doubt upon their character or
credibility. Had the matter been left where it was, the £100,000 would
have been secured. But James, whatever may have been his brilliance,
was wanting in tact. He would not leave well alone, but resolved to
call the Rev. Mr. Faker, a distinguished Dissenting minister.
In fiction this gentleman would have appeared in the melodramatic
guise of a spangled tunic, sugar-loaf hat, with party-coloured
ribbons, purple or green breeches, and motley hose; but in the
witness-box he was in clerical uniform, a long coat and white cravat
with corresponding long face and hair, especially at the back of his
head. A soberer style of a stage bandit was never seen. He was just
the man for cross-examination, I saw at a glance--a fancy witness,
and, I believe, a Welshman. As he was a Christian warrior, I had to
find out the weak places in his armour. But little he knew of courts
of law and the penetrating art of cross-examination, which could make
a hole in the triple-plated coat of fraud, hypocrisy, and cunning. I
was in no such panoply. I fought only with my little pebblestone and
sling, but took good aim, and then the missile flew with well-directed
speed.
I had to throw at a venture at first, because, happily, there were no
instructions how to cross-examine. Not that I should have followed
them if there had been; but I might have got a _fact_ or two from
them.
It is well known that artifice is the resource of cunning, whether
it acts on the principle of concealing truth or boldly asserting
falsehood. Here the reverend strategist did both: he knew how a little
truth could deceive. You must remember that at this point of the case,
when the Rev. Faker was called, there was nothing to cross-examine
about. I knew nothing of the parties, the witnesses, the solicitors,
or any one except my learned friends. It would not have been
discreditable to my advocacy if I had submitted to a verdict. I will,
therefore, give the points of the questions which elicited the truth
from the Christian warrior; and probably the non-legal reader of these
memoirs may be interested in seeing what may sometimes be done by a
few judicious questions.
"Mr. Faker," I said.
"Sir," says Faker.
"You have told us you acted as the adviser of the testatrix."
"Yes, sir."
"Spiritual adviser, of course?"
A spiritual bow.
"You advised the deceased lady, probably, as to her duties as a dying
woman?"
"Certainly."
"Duty to her husband--was that one?"
A slight hesitation in Mr. Faker revealed the vast amount of fraud of
which he was capable. It was the smallest peephole, but I saw a good
way. Till then there was nothing to cross-examine about, but after
that hesitation there was £100,000 worth! He had betrayed himself. At
last Faker said,--
"Yes, Mr. Hawkins; yes, sir--her duty to her husband."
"In the way of _providing_ for him?" was my next question.
"Oh yes; quite so."
"You were careful, of course, as you told your learned counsel, to
avoid any undue influence?"
"Certainly."
"The will was not completed, I think, when you first saw the dying
woman--on the day, I mean, of her death?"
"No, not at that time."
"Was it kept in a little bag by the pillow of the testatrix? Did she
retain the keys of the bag herself?"
"That is quite right."
"Had it been executed at this time? I think you said not?"
"Not at this time; it had to be revised."
"How did you obtain possession of the keys?"
"I obtained them."
"Yes, I know; but without her knowledge?"
It was awkward for Faker, but he had to confess that he was not sure.
Then he frankly admitted that the will was taken out of the bag--in
the lady's presence, of course, but whether she was quite dead or
almost alive was uncertain; and then he and the husband spiritually
conferred as to what the real intention of the dying woman in the
circumstances was _likely to be_, and having ascertained that, they
made _another will_, which they called "settling the former one" by
carrying out the lady's intentions, the lady being now dead to all
intentions whatsoever.
This was the will which was offered for probate!
Cresswell thought it was a curious state of affairs, and listened with
much interest to the further cross-examination.
"Had you ever seen any other will?" I inquired. It was quite an
accidental question, as one would put in a desultory sort of
conversation with a friend.
"Er--yes--I have," said Faker.
"What was that?"
"Well, it was a will, to tell you the truth, Mr. Hawkins, executed in
my favour for £5,000."
"Where is it?"
"I have not the original," said the minister, "but I have a copy of
it."
"Copy! But where is the original?"
"Original?" repeats Faker.
"Yes, the original; there must have been an original if you have a
copy."
"Oh," said the Rev. Faker, "I remember, the original was destroyed
after the testatrix's death."
"How?"
"Burnt!"
Even the very grave Hannen, my ever-respected friend and junior,
smiled; Cresswell, never prone to smile at villainy, smiled also.
"The original burnt, and only a copy produced! What do you mean, sir?"
The situation was dramatic.
"Is it not strange," I asked, "even in _your_ view of things, that the
original will should be burnt and the copy preserved?"
"Yes," answered the reverend gentleman; "perhaps it would have been
better--"
"To have burnt the copy and given us the original, and more especially
after the lady was dead. But, let me ask you, _why_ did you destroy
the original will?"
I pressed him again and again, but he could not answer. The reason was
plain. His ingenuity was exhausted, and so I gave him the finishing
stroke with this question,--
"Will you swear, sir, that an original will ever existed?"
The answer was, "No."
I knew it _must_ be the answer, because there could be no other that
would not betray him.
"What is your explanation?" asked Cresswell.
"My explanation, my lord, is that the testatrix had often expressed to
me her intention to leave me £5,000, and I wrote the codicil which was
destroyed to carry out her wishes."
Cresswell had warned James early in the case as to the futility of
calling witnesses after the two who alone were necessary, but to no
purpose; he hurried his client to destruction, and I have never been
able to understand his conduct. The most that can be said for him
is that he did not suspect any danger, and took no trouble to avoid
incurring it.
It is curious enough that on the morning of the trial we had tried to
compromise the matter by offering £10,000.
The refusal of the offer shows how little they thought that any
cross-examination could injure their cause.
Hannen said he could not have believed a cross-examination could be
conducted in that manner without any knowledge of the facts, and paid
me the compliment of saying it was worth at the least £80,000.