The Attic Murder by S. Fowler Wright (me reader .txt) 📖

pause before he replied, “44 Addleston Terrace, S.W.6,” giving that to which he had the best right, but from which he had so unavoidably absented himself during recent weeks.

His mind, as he spoke, went rapidly over the consequences which the publication of his own name and address would have. How quickly would it bring his own relatives, to whom his disappearance must have been a strange, if not alarming event, round the doors of the court? He was glad to think that the address of the room he had now taken need not be mentioned. He would still have a retreat from surrounding voices, whether of friend or foe, of which none but Mr. Jellipot and the police would be aware.

He was conscious in the same instant that Mr. Garrison, who had seen him in the dock a week before, on the charge now to be faced by another prisoner, but then with a different name, gave him a quick questioning glance, and that the eyes of Mr. Huddleston, whose position of defending counsel he did not yet know, rested upon him sharply for a moment, and fell again to his brief.

Mr. Huddleston’s mind had, in fact, hesitated on the edge of suspicion, observing that second’s pause; but he reflected that many shy and respectable witnesses dislike giving their addresses in public, in such a case as that on which they were now engaged. Besides, had there been any real importance attaching to this question, the witness would surely have been coached already by the solicitors for the police. The very fact that the reply paused seemed to Mr. Huddleston’s mind conclusive that there was none. In fact, he defeated himself by his own subtlety, as those of acute mind are often likely to do.

But the truth was that the prosecution had not gone over this witness’s evidence with him at all. Inspector Combridge had relied upon the accuracy of the statement which he had made when first questioned. A still-lingering doubt as to the extent of his past innocence or present veracity had resulted in a decision to leave him in the witness-box to his own defence, and he would have been more interested than pleased had he been able to read the instructions concerning himself which Mr. Dunkover’s brief contained. But if he could keep up his own end, he would find that the prosecution had no disposition to queer the pitch.

“Occupation?”

“Commercial artist.”

“Mr. Hammerton, on the fourth inst. I understand that you were lodging at seventeen Vincent Street, the address where Mr. Rabone also had his rooms, and where he met with his death?”

“Yes.”

“He occupied a room on the attic floor, and you were sleeping in one on the floor below?”

“Yes.”

“And you were roused by a cry in the night? Will you tell the court in your own words what occurred, as far as your knowledge goes?”

“I was roused by a cry — a loud horrible cry — which seemed to come from the floor above. I felt certain that something terrible had happened. I got out of bed, and switched on the light.

“Then I half dressed, and went out on to the landing. There was no sound” — he hesitated for one observable second and went on, “after the cry, and so — - “

Mr. Dunkover interrupted him, seeing that counsel for the defence had observed that second’s hesitation, and thinking that the question which would almost certainly be asked would come best from himself.

“Let us be clear on that. After the terrible cry you have mentioned, you heard no sound whatever until you went out on to the landing?”

Faced with this direct question, Francis had the wisdom to answer frankly “I meant nothing more of a frightening kind. I had thought that I heard steps overhead.”

“In the room where the crime occurred?”

“No. I couldn’t have heard them there. It was the other room that was over mine.”

“Very well. You thought that you heard steps in the other room. You went out on to the landing. What did you do then?”

“I listened, but heard nothing. The whole house seemed to be in absolute silence. I switched on the landing light, and went up the attic stairs. I felt I couldn’t go back to my own room without finding out what that cry had meant.”

He paused a moment, and was aware that the court had become as silent as those midnight stairs. The simple brevity of his narrative had had an effect of realism, causing those who heard to share the feelings which were recalled to his own mind. At that moment, there may have been no one there, conscious of what had lain in the room above, who doubted the truth of the talc they heard.

“You went up the stairs, and then — - ” Mr. Dunkover led him smoothly forward.

“I looked first into the room on the left, because the door was open, and the light on. The room was empty. I noticed that the window was open, and there was a strong draught blowing through.”

“I believe that that room was tenanted by a young lady whom you knew as Miss Jones?”

“Yes.”

“But you say that she was not there. Had the bed been occupied? Did you notice that?”

“Yes. I remember noticing that the clothes were half on the floor, as though they had been thrown hurriedly off.”

Mr. Garrison interposed to ask: “You are calling Miss Jones, Mr. Dunkover?”

Mr. Dunkover said that he was.

“I only asked because I do not recall that you mentioned her in your opening statement.”

“I mentioned her under the name of Weston, Jones being one that she had assumed under circumstances that she will explain.”

“Very well. Pray proceed.”

Mr. Dunkover returned his attention to the witness. “You noticed that the bed had been occupied, and appeared to have been hurriedly left. What did you do next?”

“I crossed the landing to Mr. Rabone’s door. I knocked, but got no reply. After a few moments, when I found that I could not wake him, I tried the door, which was unlocked. I opened it, and went a step or two in.”

“It was in darkness?”

“Yes. There was a little light from the open door on the other side of the landing, but I couldn’t see anything distinctly till I found the switch, which I couldn’t feel at first.

“I saw Mr. Rabone’s body lying on the floor before that, but I didn’t know what it was.”

“And when you had switched on the light?”

“I saw him lying on the floor, with his throat cut. There was an open razor lying near. I thought at first that he had killed himself, and then I remembered the cry I had heard, and thought that he had been murdered… I think I was rather frightened for a moment. I remember looking round to see if whoever had done it was still there.

“Then I thought that someone ought to be called. I went down to the basement, and knocked Mrs. Benson up.”

“Mrs. Benson being your landlady?”

“Yes.”

“Let us go back for a moment. Before you left Mr. Rabone’s room, did you notice anything more than you have said? Did you notice, for instance, whether the window of his room were open or shut?”

“No. I can’t say that I did. I think it must have been open, because I remember how the draught blew through when I opened the door, but I can’t say that I saw.”

“Had the bed been occupied?”

“I can’t say that I saw. I don’t remember anything clearly, except the way that Mr. Rabone lay on the floor.”

“But you said that you looked round to see if anyone else were there?”

“Yes. I did that, but I’ve no clear recollection of what I saw, except that I felt sure that I was alone.”

“Then you can’t say whether the bed had been occupied. Was Mr. Rabone fully dressed?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. We must accept that you observed nothing clearly except the dead man. Then you went down to rouse Mrs. Benson. And after that?”

“I went round to Sefton Street, to call Dr. Foster. That was what she asked me to do.”

“And is that, from first to last, all you know of the matter?”

“Yes. I think I’ve told you everything that I know.”

“With no reservation of any kind?”

“No. I really know nothing about it, except how I found Mr. Rabone.”

“Very well. That is all.”

Mr. Garrison looked at the defending counsel. “Any questions, Mr. Huddleston?”

Mr. Huddleston rose slowly. He had an impression that the witness had given a substantially true account of the finding of the body of the murdered man, though he had a feeling also, instinctive rather than logical, in his experienced mind, that there was something in reserve which it might, or might not, be advantageous to bring to light.

He had no suspicion of the truth. No suspicion that Francis was the Harold Vaughan who had been convicted of active participation in a despicable fraud a mere fortnight before, or that it was he who had stood, a week ago, in the place now occupied by his own client, and charged with the same crime. This was an ignorance which may be traced to the extensive business carried on by those enterprising criminal lawyers, Messrs. Moss & Middleton, from whom he had received his brief. They were now represented in court by Mr. Richard Middleton, junior, and by a clerk, neither of whom had been concerned in Harold Vaughan’s, earlier trial, and to whom his face was unknown.

Mr. Huddleston knew that it is a dangerous thing to attack an honest witness in ways which may alienate the sympathy of the court; and, beyond that, the line of defence on which he ultimately relied left this evidence so entirely aside that, from his point of view, Mr. Dunkover was merely beating the air. But there were a few questions which must be asked.

“Do I understand, Mr. Hammerton, that, on the night of the tragedy, so far as you are aware, you yourself, and the two women of whom we have heard, were the sole occupants of the house, in addition to the dead man?”

“Yes. So far as I know. I didn’t see anyone else.”

“And of these, Miss Jones had gone — how and when and where we shall doubtless hear from herself, and Mrs. Benson was asleep in the basement, so that you were the first to come into contact with the dead man, and to give the alarm?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I think that will do.”

He felt that his question had sufficiently indicated, without emphasizing, the fact that the witness’s account was uncorroborated, and that there was nothing but his own word to show that he had not himself drawn the razor across the throat of the murdered man.

Francis stepped from the box, feeling that the ordeal had been less than he had expected to face, but as he did so Mr. Huddleston became conscious of the presence of a solicitor’s clerk at his elbow, who was urgent to gain his ear.

Francis observed him also, and recognized the man who had been engaged in his defence at the earlier trial, and who, in fact, had entered the court a moment before with no other purpose than to give a message to Mr. Richard Middleton in connection with a different case. Francis saw that Mr. Huddleston’s eyes were now directed sharply upon himself. He saw him rise hurriedly, and address the magistrate.

“I may very probably wish,” he said, “to ask the witness one or two further questions. I will defer them, with your permission, if you will allow him to be recalled at a later stage. May I