A MEMORABLE DAY
"Two days later the police applied for a warrant for the arrest of Mr.
Percival Brooks on a charge of forgery.
"The Crown prosecuted, and Mr. Brooks had again the support of Mr.
Oranmore, the eminent K.C. Perfectly calm, like a man conscious of his
own innocence and unable to grasp the idea that justice does sometimes
miscarry, Mr. Brooks, the son of the millionaire, himself still the
possessor of a very large fortune under the former will, stood up in the
dock on that memorable day in October, 1908, which still no doubt lives
in the memory of his many friends.
"All the evidence with regard to Mr. Brooks' last moments and the forged
will was gone through over again. That will, it was the contention of
the Crown, had been forged so entirely in favour of the accused, cutting
out every one else, that obviously no one but the beneficiary under that
false will would have had any motive in forging it.
"Very pale, and with a frown between his deep-set, handsome Irish eyes,
Percival Brooks listened to this large volume of evidence piled up
against him by the Crown.
"At times he held brief consultations with Mr. Oranmore, who seemed as
cool as a cucumber. Have you ever seen Oranmore in court? He is a
character worthy of Dickens. His pronounced brogue, his fat, podgy,
clean-shaven face, his not always immaculately clean large hands, have
often delighted the caricaturist. As it very soon transpired during that
memorable magisterial inquiry, he relied for a verdict in favour of his
client upon two main points, and he had concentrated all his skill upon
making these two points as telling as he possibly could.
"The first point was the question of time, John O'Neill, cross-examined
by Oranmore, stated without hesitation that he had given the will to Mr.
Percival at eleven o'clock in the morning. And now the eminent K.C.
brought forward and placed in the witness-box the very lawyers into
whose hands the accused had then immediately placed the will. Now, Mr.
Barkston, a very well-known solicitor of King Street, declared
positively that Mr. Percival Brooks was in his office at a quarter
before twelve; two of his clerks testified to the same time exactly, and
it was _impossible_, contended Mr. Oranmore, that within three-quarters
of an hour Mr. Brooks could have gone to a stationer's, bought a will
form, copied Mr. Wethered's writing, his father's signature, and that
of John O'Neill and Pat Mooney.
"Such a thing might have been planned, arranged, practised, and
ultimately, after a great deal of trouble, successfully carried out, but
human intelligence could not grasp the other as a possibility.
"Still the judge wavered. The eminent K.C. had shaken but not shattered
his belief in the prisoner's guilt. But there was one point more, and
this Oranmore, with the skill of a dramatist, had reserved for the fall
of the curtain.
"He noted every sign in the judge's face, he guessed that his client was
not yet absolutely safe, then only did he produce his last two
witnesses.
"One of them was Mary Sullivan, one of the housemaids in the Fitzwilliam
mansion. She had been sent up by the cook at a quarter past four o'clock
on the afternoon of February 1st with some hot water, which the nurse
had ordered, for the master's room. Just as she was about to knock at
the door Mr. Wethered was coming out of the room. Mary stopped with the
tray in her hand, and at the door Mr. Wethered turned and said quite
loudly: 'Now, don't fret, don't be anxious; do try and be calm. Your
will is safe in my pocket, nothing can change it or alter one word of it
but yourself.'
"It was, of course, a very ticklish point in law whether the
housemaid's evidence could be accepted. You see, she was quoting the
words of a man since dead, spoken to another man also dead. There is no
doubt that had there been very strong evidence on the other side against
Percival Brooks, Mary Sullivan's would have counted for nothing; but, as
I told you before, the judge's belief in the prisoner's guilt was
already very seriously shaken, and now the final blow aimed at it by Mr.
Oranmore shattered his last lingering doubts.
"Dr. Mulligan, namely, had been placed by Mr. Oranmore into the
witness-box. He was a medical man of unimpeachable authority, in fact,
absolutely at the head of his profession in Dublin. What he said
practically corroborated Mary Sullivan's testimony. He had gone in to
see Mr. Brooks at half-past four, and understood from him that his
lawyer had just left him.
"Mr. Brooks certainly, though terribly weak, was calm and more composed.
He was dying from a sudden heart attack, and Dr. Mulligan foresaw the
almost immediate end. But he was still conscious and managed to murmur
feebly: 'I feel much easier in my mind now, doctor--have made my
will--Wethered has been--he's got it in his pocket--it is safe
there--safe from that--' But the words died on his lips, and after that
he spoke but little. He saw his two sons before he died, but hardly
knew them or even looked at them.
"You see," concluded the man in the corner, "you see that the
prosecution was bound to collapse. Oranmore did not give it a leg to
stand on. The will was forged, it is true, forged in the favour of
Percival Brooks and of no one else, forged for him and for his benefit.
Whether he knew and connived at the forgery was never proved or, as far
as I know, even hinted, but it was impossible to go against all the
evidence, which pointed that, as far as the act itself was concerned, he
at least was innocent. You see, Dr. Mulligan's evidence was not to be
shaken. Mary Sullivan's was equally strong.
"There were two witnesses swearing positively that old Brooks' will was
in Mr. Wethered's keeping when that gentleman left the Fitzwilliam
mansion at a quarter past four. At five o'clock in the afternoon the
lawyer was found dead in Phoenix Park. Between a quarter past four and
eight o'clock in the evening Percival Brooks never left the house--that
was subsequently proved by Oranmore up to the hilt and beyond a doubt.
Since the will found under old Brooks' pillow was a forged will, where
then was the will he did make, and which Wethered carried away with him
in his pocket?"
"Stolen, of course," said Polly, "by those who murdered and robbed him;
it may have been of no value to them, but they naturally would destroy
it, lest it might prove a clue against them."
"Then you think it was mere coincidence?" he asked excitedly.
"What?"
"That Wethered was murdered and robbed at the very moment that he
carried the will in his pocket, whilst another was being forged in its
place?"
"It certainly would be very curious, if it _were_ a coincidence," she
said musingly.
"Very," he repeated with biting sarcasm, whilst nervously his bony
fingers played with the inevitable bit of string. "Very curious indeed.
Just think of the whole thing. There was the old man with all his
wealth, and two sons, one to whom he is devoted, and the other with whom
he does nothing but quarrel. One day there is another of these quarrels,
but more violent, more terrible than any that have previously occurred,
with the result that the father, heartbroken by it all, has an attack of
apoplexy and practically dies of a broken heart. After that he alters
his will, and subsequently a will is proved which turns out to be a
forgery.
"Now everybody--police, press, and public alike--at once jump to the
conclusion that, as Percival Brooks benefits by that forged will,
Percival Brooks must be the forger."
"Seek for him whom the crime benefits, is your own axiom," argued the
girl.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Percival Brooks benefited to the tune of £2,000,000."
"I beg your pardon. He did nothing of the sort. He was left with less
than half the share that his younger brother inherited."
"Now, yes; but that was a former will and--"
"And that forged will was so clumsily executed, the signature so
carelessly imitated, that the forgery was bound to come to light. Did
_that_ never strike you?"
"Yes, but--"
"There is no but," he interrupted. "It was all as clear as daylight to
me from the very first. The quarrel with the old man, which broke his
heart, was not with his eldest son, with whom he was used to
quarrelling, but with the second son whom he idolised, in whom he
believed. Don't you remember how John O'Neill heard the words 'liar' and
'deceit'? Percival Brooks had never deceived his father. His sins were
all on the surface. Murray had led a quiet life, had pandered to his
father, and fawned upon him, until, like most hypocrites, he at last got
found out. Who knows what ugly gambling debt or debt of honour, suddenly
revealed to old Brooks, was the cause of that last and deadly quarrel?
"You remember that it was Percival who remained beside his father and
carried him up to his room. Where was Murray throughout that long and
painful day, when his father lay dying--he, the idolised son, the apple
of the old man's eye? You never hear his name mentioned as being present
there all that day. But he knew that he had offended his father
mortally, and that his father meant to cut him off with a shilling. He
knew that Mr. Wethered had been sent for, that Wethered left the house
soon after four o'clock.
"And here the cleverness of the man comes in. Having lain in wait for
Wethered and knocked him on the back of the head with a stick, he could
not very well make that will disappear altogether. There remained the
faint chance of some other witnesses knowing that Mr. Brooks had made a
fresh will, Mr. Wethered's partner, his clerk, or one of the
confidential servants in the house. Therefore _a_ will must be
discovered after the old man's death.
"Now, Murray Brooks was not an expert forger, it takes years of training
to become that. A forged will executed by himself would be sure to be
found out--yes, that's it, sure to be found out. The forgery will be
palpable--let it be palpable, and then it will be found out, branded as
such, and the original will of 1891, so favourable to the young
blackguard's interests, would be held as valid. Was it devilry or
merely additional caution which prompted Murray to pen that forged will
so glaringly in Percival's favour? It is impossible to say.
"Anyhow, it was the cleverest touch in that marvellously devised crime.
To plan that evil deed was great, to execute it was easy enough. He had
several hours' leisure in which to do it. Then at night it was
simplicity itself to slip the document under the dead man's pillow.
Sacrilege causes no shudder to such natures as Murray Brooks. The rest
of the drama you know already--"
"But Percival Brooks?"
"The jury returned a verdict of 'Not guilty.' There was no evidence
against him."
"But the money? Surely the scoundrel does not have the enjoyment of it
still?"
"No; he enjoyed it for a time, but he died, about three months ago, and
forgot to take the precaution of making a will, so his brother Percival
has got the business after all. If you ever go to Dublin, I should order
some of Brooks' bacon if I were you. It is very good."