"His movements on arriving at Crompton are also rather mysterious, for he appears to have made his way direct to the shop of a frame-maker named Cooper, where he made a small purchase and then offered his paintings for Cooper's inspection; which was a very singular proceeding if we remember that a Bond Street dealer was prepared to take the whole of his work and pay high prices for it. But again, this mystery has no direct bearing on the question which you have to decide. The real importance of the incident is that Mr. Cooper, having had some conversation with deceased, was able later to identify him and to give a most weighty piece of evidence.
"Our next view of Andrew Barton is at the Excelsior Restaurant, where he lunched in company with the prisoner. The waiter, Albert Wood, who waited on the two men, will describe their appearance to you, and evidence will be given that he picked the prisoner out without hesitation from a row of over twenty. Both he and Mr. Cooper noticed the deceased particularly on account of the rather peculiar spectacles that he wore. I may mention in passing that Andrew Barton had suffered an injury to his nose which resulted in considerable disfigurement, concerning which he was rather sensitive, and these spectacles were specially made to cover up the disfigurement by means of an extra broad bridge.
"On leaving the restaurant, the two men, the prisoner and deceased, appear to have gone for a walk in the country, along a road which leads to Hunstone Gap, a place of which you will hear more presently. It is here that Mr. Cooper's evidence is of such vital importance. For this gentleman happened to have some business at the outskirts of the town; and just as he came out into the street after finishing his business, he saw the two men passing on the opposite side of the road. He recognized Andrew Barton instantly, and his attention was attracted to the other man by the curious resemblance between the two men, which was noticeable in spite of the spectacles. When they had passed and he got a back view of them, the resemblance was so remarkable that he walked some distance after them the better to observe it. These two men were not only dressed almost exactly alike, and of the same height, colour and figure, but they seemed to him to have precisely the same gait or manner of walking. This similarity in the two men is of no special interest for us, excepting in that it attracted the attention of this witness and caused him to make some further observations which are of the most vital interest. For, following them to observe their gait and gestures, he saw that they took the road which leads out into the country and to Hunstone Gap; and, at the corner of the road, he stood watching them until they disappeared round a bend. And thus, members of the jury, did Andrew Barton pass for ever out of human ken. Thereafter, no eye, save that of the prisoner, looked upon him as a living man. The next eye that looked on him saw, not a young man in the very prime of life, full of vitality and manly strength, but a battered corpse, lying in a dreadful solitude at the foot of a cliff in a remote little bay called Hunstone Gap.
"The discovery was made late in the afternoon by the master of a fishing lugger called the Sunflower. Sailing past the Gap, he noticed that there had been a fall of chalk from the cliff; and when he came to examine the place through his glass, he saw a pair of naked legs protruding from under the heap of fragments. Thereupon he steered his craft inshore, and, when she was near enough, he put out the boat and rowed ashore. And there, at the foot of the cliff, he saw the nude body of a man lying on the beach, partly covered with fragments of chalk and with one large block resting on the face. They removed the fragments and then the mate of the lugger, William Cox, lifted the great block off the face, when it was seen that the dead man's head was so horribly battered that it was practically flat. They carried the body to the boat and they then collected the clothing—the dead man had apparently been bathing—and they put the body and the clothes on board the lugger. But before he returned on board, the skipper, Samuel Sharpin by name, and a most intelligent man, had the good sense to examine the beach to see if the dead man had come there alone, or whether he had had any companions. There was only a small space of sand left, for the tide was rising and had already covered the greater part of the beach. But the little patch that was still left uncovered was quite smooth, and on that smooth surface were clearly visible two tracks of human feet. One track consisted of the footprints of two persons, walking side by side and advancing from the sunken road which led down to the beach towards the sea; the other track consisted of the footprints of one person only, and that person was returning across the beach towards the sunken road.
"Now, whose footprints were these? Since there were no others, it is evident that one set of them must have been the footprints of Andrew Barton; and, since he never came away from that fatal place, it is obvious that the returning footprints could not have been his. Two men walked down together into the Gap and one of them returned from the Gap alone. One of those two men was certainly Andrew Barton. Who was the other—the one who came away alone? Can there possibly be a moment's doubt? When Andrew Barton was last seen alive, he was seen walking towards Hunstone Gap in company with the prisoner. I affirm that it is certain, in so far as certainty is possible in human affairs, that the person who walked down into the Gap with Andrew Barton and who afterwards stole away alone, was the prisoner, Ronald Barton.
"We have followed Andrew Barton to the place where he met his death. There is little more to tell. The body was conveyed by these good fishermen to the place where they berthed the lugger and there they put it ashore. Then they borrowed a seaweed cart and in this they carried the corpse into the town and delivered it to the police together with the clothing. And by the police it was deposited in the mortuary.
"And now let us, in the same manner, follow the movements of the prisoner on that fatal day and thereafter. His first appearance in this tragic history is at the Excelsior Restaurant where the waiter, Albert Wood, saw him as I have described, lunching with the deceased. Then we see him again, as described by Mr. Cooper, walking with deceased towards Hunstone Gap. After this, there is an interval of several hours, for it is not until late in the evening, about nine o'clock, that we hear of him again. At this time, he was seen by one Frederick Barnard, a waiter at Mason's Restaurant, to enter that establishment and take his seat at a table. Now, however, he was not alone. He was accompanied by an American who was known to Barnard by sight but not by name but who has since been identified as a beauty specialist who described himself as Professor Booley. Unfortunately, this person is not available as a witness as it has been ascertained that he left Crompton on the following morning for Liverpool, where he embarked to return to America.
"The connection of the prisoner with this man Booley is rather mysterious, but there is some suggestion that he may have received some sort of treatment from this charlatan. Barnard observed that the American was the prisoner's guest and that he seemed to take a remarkable interest in the prisoner's appearance, for he watched him almost continuously and with a curious air of satisfaction. Moreover, after the American had left—which he did quite early—Barnard saw the prisoner rise from his chair, walk up to a large mirror and examine himself in it with extraordinary interest and attention.
"However, as I have said, the connection between the prisoner and Booley remains somewhat of a mystery. Presently we shall consider whether it has any bearing on the problem which you have to solve. Of more interest to us are certain other observations made by the observant Barnard. Thus, he noticed instantly when the prisoner entered that he looked ill and distressed and showed evident signs of fatigue; that he hardly spoke a word to his guest; that he improved remarkably in appearance after a substantial meal and a small bottle of wine; and that after dinner, while he was taking his coffee and a liqueur, he seemed to be wrapped in deep and anxious thought.
"The next appearance of the prisoner is most surprising and significant. For it seems that, on leaving the restaurant, he must have made his way directly to the police station. At any rate, there he was seen by no less than four persons and in the most astonishing circumstances. We have seen that the fishermen
brought the body of Andrew Barton to the town in a seaweed cart and delivered it to the police. But the skipper, Samuel Sharpin, hurried on in advance to give notice of what had happened and of the approach of the cart with its tragic burden. On receiving this notice, the sergeant procured a stretcher which he and a constable, accompanied by Sharpin, carried out and laid in readiness on the pavement. And there, incredible as it may appear, they found the prisoner, ostensibly reading the notices on the wall, but apparently waiting for the arrival of the cart. For, as the cart turned into the street and the rumble of the wheels became audible, the prisoner turned and looked directly up the street; in fact, he walked part of the way as if to meet it, turning about when he met it and walking with it to its halting-place. And there, members of the jury, he stood, placidly watching while the body of his cousin was lifted from the cart and placed on the stretcher; noting the several garments as they were handed out, each of which he must have recognised; and making no sign and speaking no word. Indeed, when the poor remains had been carried away and the carter who stood by the horse approached to talk to him, he turned away and walked up the street.
"The account sounds incredible, but it is true. This secret watcher was seen by four persons, each of whom has since identified him without hesitation. There can be no doubt that this astonishing thing really happened. It is vouched for by the evidence of Sharpin, of Sergeant Steel, of Constable Willis and of the carter, Walter Hood.
"From the police station, the prisoner seems to have gone straight to his lodgings, which were in the same street, and where he was living under the name of Walter Green. And here also some very significant events befell. His landlady, Mrs. Baxter, will tell you that at this time, Mr. Walter Green was nearly a fortnight in arrear in his rent. She had made several applications for payment, but her lodger was, at the moment, not in a position to pay the very modest sum that he owed. When he came in on this evening, she reminded him of the debt. But now his attitude was entirely different. He seemed to be hard up no longer; for not only was he ready to pay what was owing, but he offered to pay in advance for the remainder of the fortnight; an offer which she discreetly accepted and was duly paid with clean, new Treasury notes.
"Now, this sudden change from penury to comparative affluence would in itself be remarkable. But much more so are the accompanying circumstances. It was on this occasion that Mrs. Baxter noticed for the first time an attaché case in the prisoner's possession. She had never seen it before, and when she mentioned the fact to him and asked if it was his, he returned no answer. But the answer to her question can be given to us by Andrew Barton's banker. Those clean, new notes with which Mr. Green paid his rent were selections from a bundle of fifty pound-notes which had been paid to Andrew Barton by his banker at Bunsford. They were a consecutive series the numbers of which had been noted and their issue to customers recorded; and the police have since been able to trace the four pound-notes paid by the prisoner to Mrs. Baxter.
"From this witness we also learn that the prisoner suddenly changed his plans. He decided to leave his lodgings on the following morning and go to London; and he was very anxious to catch an early train. That he did catch that train we have other evidence; for, on the following morning, the 29th of August, he presented himself at the London office of Andrew Barton's bank in Cornhill shortly after the doors had been opened. He endorsed and presented an open cheque drawn in favour of Ronald Barton, Esq., for the sum of fifty pounds and signed Andrew Barton; and, having received that sum in Treasury notes, he left the bank.
"From thence he seems to have gone straight to Hampstead, where he engaged lodgings at a house in Vineyard Place occupied by a Mrs. Martha Pendlewick; and there he was living up to the time of his arrest. But, before coming to this closing scene, we have to note one more incident which, if it is of no great importance, is of considerable interest. This was his visit to his cousin's widow. He wrote to her from Hampstead proposing to call, and on Wednesday, the 6th of September, he made his appearance at her house.
"We need not go into details of what passed at that visit. But there are two incidents which we may notice. The first is that, when Mrs. Barton asked him when he had last seen her husband, he considered for a while and then mentioned a date about two years previously. Thus, in effect, he denied having met him at Crompton. The other incident occurred shortly before he left. He then suggested that he should repeat his visit at an early date, and expressed the hope that they would see more of each other than they had done in the past. To which Mrs. Barton replied quite frankly that she would rather that he did not repeat his visit, at least for a considerable time. The reason that she gave for this wish on her part was that his remarkable resemblance to her dead husband made his presence painful to her. That is what she said, and what she still says, and it is quite understandable; but members of the jury may feel, as I confess I do, that there may have been something more subtle in her dislike to having this man in her presence.
"We now come to his arrest; and concerning the circumstances in which that arrest took place it would not be proper for me to say more than that he was arrested when he was engaged calmly in making a sketch on Hampstead Heath. And now, having followed his movements from the moment when he was first seen in company with Andrew Barton, to that when he was taken into custody, we are in a position to take a general view of the whole set of circumstances and consider their significance in relation to the charge which has been brought against him. The prisoner is accused of having murdered his cousin, Andrew Barton, at Hunstone Gap; and the question that you have to decide is: Do all these circumstances, taken together, lead convincingly to the conclusion that he is guilty of that crime, or do they not? If you decide that they do, it will be your duty to return a verdict to that effect. If, on the other hand, you feel any reasonable doubt as to whether he did commit that crime, it will be your duty to give him the benefit of that doubt and pronounce him Not Guilty. Let us now examine these circumstances and see what conclusion emerges from them.
"We have seen that Andrew Barton met his death by violence; but the medical witness cannot tell us with certainty whether that violence was inflicted by natural agencies or by the murderous act of some person. Either is possible, and both are equally consistent with the appearance of the body as observed by the medical examiner. Then, since the most expert examination cannot furnish a decision as to whether death was due to accident or homicide, we must consider what light is thrown on the question from other directions.
"First there is the conduct of the prisoner. Was it that of an innocent or of a guilty man? Remember that when Andrew Barton met his death, the prisoner was present. Of that there can be no doubt. If Andrew Barton's death was due to an accident the prisoner saw that accident happen. If Andrew Barton was murdered, he was murdered by the prisoner. Now I ask: What was the behaviour of the prisoner on that terrible occasion? Was it the behaviour of a man who has witnessed a dreadful accident? Or was it that of a man who has committed a crime?
"How would a man behave in these respective circumstances? Let us take the case of an accident. Supposing, that the prisoner had seen that great block of chalk fall with a crash on his cousin's head. What would it have been natural for him to do? Would he not have hurried away in search of help, or at least have given notice of the dreadful thing that had happened? Why should he not? No one would have suspected him of being in any way to blame. Indeed, no suspicion did arise in this case until it was engendered by the prisoner's own conduct. We may say with confidence that if the prisoner had gone at once to the police station and given information, this charge would never have been brought against him.
"But suppose that the prisoner had murdered Andrew Barton. How would he have behaved? Doubtless, if he had been a man of sufficient nerve and sufficient judgment, he would have gone and reported an alleged accident. But that is not usually the way of those who commit crimes. The instinct of the criminal is to keep out of sight; to avoid the appearance of any connection with the cri
me.
"Now let us observe the prisoner's behaviour. With his cousin's battered corpse lying under the cliff, he steals away secretly and is lost to sight for several hours. He makes no communication to anyone. The tide is rising, and presently the waves will be washing round that corpse. But he takes no measures for its recovery before it shall be borne out to sea. He just steals away alone and hides himself.
"He next comes into view several hours later at Mason's Restaurant; and at once we are impressed by certain remarkable and significant facts. First, his appearance as described by the waiter, Barnard, is that of a man who has been exposed to some unusual strain. He shows signs of fatigue and exhaustion. He looks ill and seems to be suffering from mental distress, but he revives under the influence of food and wine. Then he is accompanied by a stranger who turns out to be what is called a 'beauty doctor'; and Barnard's evidence suggests in the strongest manner that there had been some professional transactions between this man Booley, and the prisoner. Booley appeared to be intensely interested in the prisoner's face. He kept his eyes riveted on it to the neglect of his own food. But it was not the beauty doctor only who was interested in the prisoner's face. When Booley had gone, the prisoner was seen to walk up to the mirror and make a minute inspection of his own countenance.
"Now what can this mean? The suggestion is, as I have said, that Booley had done something to the prisoner's face. But what could he have done? If you will look at the prisoner, you will see that he has no need of the services of a beauty doctor. What, then, could it be that Booley had done to the prisoner's face? Could it be that the tragedy that had been enacted at Hunstone Gap had left its traces on the prisoner's face? That those tell-tale marks had prevented him from giving information of the catastrophe? And that he had invoked the aid of the beauty doctor—skilled in the art of make-up—to paint out, or otherwise obliterate those incriminating marks? That, I submit, is the inference which instantly arises in the mind of any reasonable person. Andrew Barton was a young and strong man and, unless he had been taken completely by surprise, he would assuredly have left some marks of the conflict on his assailant. Admittedly, this is only an inference. But it is a reasonable inference; and the facts seem to admit of no other explanation.
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