by Diane Janes
‘Had she ever refused to help with the ducks before?’
‘Never.’ He could not resist glancing in Dolly’s direction, but she was staring straight ahead, as if fascinated by the coat of arms above the judge’s chair.
‘Could you not have asked Miss Houseman to help you?’
‘Miss Houseman never helped with that kind of job and anyway she was making jam, which I think has to be stirred all the time and can’t be left.’
‘So you went outside and rounded up the ducks by yourself. Roughly what time was it when you were dealing with the ducks?’
‘By the time I’d got the ducks in, it would have been just past nine. I was too late for the bus by then, so I carried on with a few more jobs. While I was working around the yard, I saw some rats running about, so I went inside, got the gun and had a couple of shots at one of them.’
‘So, you had been outside pretty much continuously between half past eight and half past nine, which is when you shot at the rats. During that time, if a car had arrived, would you have seen or heard it?’
‘Most certainly.’
‘Would any car which arrived have been audible to anyone sitting in the kitchen?’
‘Definitely. You can always hear a car coming down the drive, wherever you are in the yard or in the house.’
‘I would like you to tell me a little more about the whereabouts of the shotgun while it was in your possession that evening. Did you for example, take the gun down the drive to the garage at any point?’
‘No. I never took the gun any further than the yard. When I first got it out, I propped it up near the kitchen door, while I waited for the rats to reappear. When I saw one, I took a first shot at it in the yard, but I missed it, so I followed it into the mistal and took a second shot at it there, but I still didn’t manage to hit it. After that I propped the gun up alongside the kitchen door again for a little while, until I’d finished what I was doing and was ready to take it inside. Later on, I took it into the kitchen, where I cleaned it and put it away.’
‘And what were you doing, between shooting at the rat and taking the gun inside?’
‘After I shot at the rat, I heard a horse loose somewhere. I went to find it and saw that it had broken its head collar. That wasn’t an unusual thing with that particular animal. I looked for a spare head collar in the stables, but I couldn’t find a suitable one, so I went up to the attic, where the rest of the spare ropes and collars are kept. I found a leather head collar up there and a rope shank. I took them downstairs and fastened the horse with them. It was getting dark by then and I’d got no light in the stable, so I struck a match to see what I was doing and this startled the horse. It flew back and in doing so, it pulled tight the chowl band – that’s the bit that goes under its jaw. I couldn’t undo it and had to go into the house to get a knife to cut it free.’
‘Can you remember what knife you fetched from the house that night?’
‘I fetched the black handled knife. I’d been using it for odd jobs ever since I mislaid my own pocket knife, a few weeks before. As I cut the chowl band free, I nicked my thumb – it bled a little bit, but not very much.’
‘While you had this knife outside the house, did you cut the telephone wires?’ The barrister made it sound like a completely innocuous question. He might have been enquiring about the time of the next bus.
‘No, I did not.’ He delivered his response in a similarly deadpan tone.
‘Do you recall any conversation with Mrs Morton around this time, regarding a telephone call?’
‘When I was either fetching the knife or putting it back – I can’t remember which – Mrs Morton said something about there having been a phone call from Scotland, and I said, “Oh, has there?”’
‘Had you heard the telephone bell yourself?’
‘No.’
‘So you were surprised when Mrs Morton mentioned that there had been a call?’
‘Not particularly. I can’t say that I took much notice. It hadn’t really got anything to do with me.’
‘When you came down from the attic, carrying the rope and the head collar, did you notice that Mrs Morton and Miss Houseman appeared to be afraid of you?’
‘I can’t say that I did.’
‘Can you think of any reason why the women might have been afraid of you that evening?’
‘No.’
‘When you brought the gun back into the kitchen, did you use it to threaten or intimidate them in any way?’
‘No. I had no reason to threaten them.’
‘Do you have any idea why Miss Houseman was afraid to take the gun from you, when she was offered it?’
‘None whatever.’
‘And after you had cleaned the gun and put it away, what did you do then?’
‘I went outside and put the Essex car away. I coasted it down the drive, because when I tried to start it, I found that the battery was flat. After that I went back to my hut and changed my boots for my slippers. Then I loosed the Great Dane from her kennel and she followed me back into the kitchen. Miss Houseman was still waiting for the jam to be done and Mrs Morton was doing her sewing. The three of us sat talking for quite a while, just about ordinary things, the horses and the farm and such like, and eventually I went out again to the wash house. It was about half past eleven by then and while I was outside, I heard the boss’s car coming in. He pulled up on the drive, just above the garage, and I went down to meet him and told him about bringing back the cow from Greetland.’
‘Was he alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he get out of the car?’
‘No, we spoke through the open window. I told him about the cow, and he said “Oh bugger, another wasted journey,” or words to that effect.’
‘And how did Mr Morton appear to you?’
‘He was very much the worse for drink. His speech was slurred. I asked him if he wanted me to put the car away for him and he said, “no,” as he might be going out again.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I left him to it. I could hear him shunting the car back and forth and racing the engine.’
‘Did you see or hear him go back out again?’
‘No.’
‘And then what happened?’
‘I went back into the house and told Mrs Morton about the conversation I’d just had with her husband. After that I sat in the kitchen for about another quarter of an hour, then I went outside again to put the dog in its kennel and stoked up the boiler for the night. When I went back into the kitchen the next time, neither of the women was there, so I guessed that they’d gone up to bed.’
‘Were there any lights burning in the house at this point?’
‘Only the lamp in the kitchen. That’s always left burning all night.’
‘What did you do when you went back into the house on this occasion?’
‘I had a wash at the kitchen sink, then I had a glass of milk and a slice of bread and butter. I hadn’t eaten my supper that night on account of it being cold sausages, which I don’t like. After that I took off my shirt collar and my tie, which I always leave in my jacket pocket, ready for me to slip them straight back on again. I’d already left my jacket hanging over the back of the kitchen chair, which I always do in the summer months, and then I went out to my hut, where I went straight to bed. I didn’t wear my pyjamas, on account of it being a hot night. I went off to sleep pretty much straight away and I didn’t see or hear anything else until after the fire had started.’ He was tempted to glance across at the jury, in order to see what they were making of this radically different interpretation of the evening’s events, but then he recalled Mr Streatfield’s advice and stayed focussed on his barrister instead.
‘It was by no means the first time that Mr Morton had arrived home, somewhat the worse for drink, was it?’
‘It was not the first time, no.’
‘Had Mr Morton sometimes fallen asleep in his car and spent the night in the garage?’
‘Several times.’
‘Is that what you thought had happened on this occasion?’
‘I didn’t know what had happened. It was none of my affair.’
‘So after you had gone off to sleep, what was the next thing you heard?’
‘I was awoken by an explosion – at least it sounded like an explosion.’
‘Was it like a gunshot?’
‘No. More of a dull thud. I sat up in bed and I could see the glow of the fire through the window. I got up and went outside to see what was going on, and from there I could see that the garage was on fire. I quickly pulled on my shirt, trousers, waistcoat and slippers – because they went on quicker than my boots – and then I ran straight round to the garage, but I couldn’t get near for the heat of the flames, so I ran back up to the house, intending to rouse the household. I was calling out Mrs Morton’s name, but then I realised that they were already up, so I got all the beasts out of the adjacent buildings, started up the horsebox and moved that out of harm’s way, and after that I ran back to the house.’
As he spoke he could still remember the heat from the flames, the filthy smells as everything from tins of paint to human flesh were consumed by the voracious blaze. He heard again the panic stricken calls of the beasts in the stables, their fear soon mirrored by his own, as the fire began to spread across the rafters and waves of acrid smoke found their way in through the porous walls and open windows. He remembered how Inkerman, the big black stallion had reared up and all but crushed him, as he tried to get the creature out to safety. He had got every last one of them out, he thought, hampered by a cloak of darkness which was alleviated only by the unearthly light of the fire itself, and with every moment that passed there had been the possibility that he might become trapped by the flames or succumb to the smoke. He ought to have got a ruddy medal, but instead he had ended up on trial here, with his life in the balance again.
‘And when you reached the house?’ prompted Mr Streatfield.
‘There was no sign of Mrs Morton, so I went into the drawing room and tried the telephone. I thought there might be something wrong with it, because the receiver was already lying off the hook when I got there, but I still tried dialling 01 for the exchange. When no one answered I decided that as I couldn’t get a reply on the telephone, I would be best getting help in the village, so I grabbed my jacket, got into the horse box and drove into Towton, where I woke Mr Stuart, and while I was there, either him or me got someone to ring for the fire brigade.’
‘What else did you do, while you were waiting for Mr Stuart?’
‘I put on my collar and tie and ran a hand over my hair. It always stays pretty flat anyway, on account of the hair oil I use.’
‘So then you drove Mr Stuart back to the farm,’ Streatfield prompted.
‘I did, but there wasn’t much we could do on our own. Mr Stuart said that he thought the boss might be in the garage and I agreed that he could be. As the womenfolk were nowhere to be seen, we decided to go for the police. I drove the horsebox, as Stuart cannot drive.’ (And that had been another source of jealousy, Ernest thought.) ‘We went to PC Broadhead’s cottage and he followed us back to the farm on his bicycle. By the time we got back to Saxton Grange, Mrs Morton had already been brought back from the village in somebody’s car. She was standing on the drive, looking at the fire and when she saw me, she told me to start playing the hose onto the loose boxes, to stop the fire from spreading to them, which I did.’
‘Did you say anything at all to Mrs Morton about a rope, at this time?’
‘No.’
‘Did you threaten to hang her, using a rope left on the landing?’
‘No. I did not threaten to hang her with a rope. I did not threaten her with anything. PC Broadhead was standing only a few yards away from us the whole time and in any case I had no reason to threaten her.’ He wondered what the jury would make of the obvious exasperation in his tone.
Mr Streatfield’s expression appeared to offer both caution and encouragement. In a slightly louder voice than he had used hitherto, the defending barrister commenced on his final salvo of questions.
‘Did you kill Mr Morton?’
‘No.’
‘Did you shoot at Mr Morton with that gun?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Did you set fire to the garage?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Did you set fire to the cars, or to anything else in the garage?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Did you cut the telephone wires?’
‘No.’
‘Have you any knowledge at all, of how Mr Morton met his death?’
‘I have not – not in the slightest.’
A moment of silence lay across the court room, sharp and cold as the frost which would settle across the fields of Saxton Grange that night, before darkness had turned to dawn.
Chapter Eleven
Thursday 14 December 1933
Leeds Town Hall, The Yorkshire Assizes
The flicker of what might almost have been a smile passed briefly across the countenance of Mr Paley Scott, as he rose to cross-examine the man in the witness box. Now I have you, his expression seemed to say. This is the opportunity that I have been waiting for. The moment to carve up your testimony, piece by piece, and throw it to the dogs.
Ernest faced him unflinching, looking him right in the eye, just as he had Mr Streatfield.
‘Tell me, Mr Brown,’ the prosecution barrister adopted an unexpectedly friendly tone. ‘How did you address the late Mr Morton? Did you say, “Mr Morton”? Or was it “Boss”?’
‘I used to call him Fred.’
‘I see – that’s nice and short, isn’t it? Much quicker to say “Fred” than to say “Mrs Morton”, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘So when you found the garage was on fire and you tried to raise the household, why did you shout out “Mrs Morton”, when you could far more easily have shouted “Fred”?’
‘I knew Mrs Morton was at home. I did not know whether Mr Morton had eventually come home or not.’
‘But surely you did not really expect that Mr Morton would have spent the whole night in the garage?’
‘He’d done so before.’
Mr Paley Scott abruptly switched tack. ‘Today you have told this court that you attempted to call for the fire brigade, using the drawing room telephone. Why did you not mention this to PC Broadhead on the morning of the fire?’
‘He didn’t ask me anything about the telephone.’
‘But you did not volunteer the information.’
‘He asked me two or three questions about waking up and finding the garage on fire and he took the answers down in his notebook. He never asked anything about the telephone, or even who had sent for the fire brigade. I was not suspected of setting the fire, nor yet charged with murder, then.’
Mr Paley Scott had reached for and was consulting a sheet of paper, from the pile on his table. ‘Here in the statement which you gave to Superintendent Blacker, it says that you did not think of calling for the fire brigade.’
‘Superintendent Blacker asked me a series of questions and then he wrote down my answers. He asked me why I had not immediately tried to telephone for the fire brigade and I said that I didn’t think of it, because what I thought about first was the horses screaming in their boxes, and the need to get them out of the way of the fire, which is naturally what anybody would do in that situation.’
‘But surely you would have then mentioned to Superintendent Blacker, that you had subsequently tried to use the telephone and received no reply?’
‘After I had given him my answer to that question, he asked me another one whi
ch had nothing at all to do with the telephone.’
‘So you did not think of attempting to get help by using the telephone until the garage was well alight, and then it somehow slipped your mind until much later that you had ever tried to do so at all?’
‘No,’ said Ernest firmly. ‘It never slipped my mind at all. It only comes across that way, because that’s the way Superintendent Blacker put the question. As for saving the horses first, if you had been in my place, woken up in the early hours of the morning, with the buildings already well ablaze and the animals trapped and terrified, you’d have done the same.’
‘When you tried the telephone, did you not think it very strange that you couldn’t get any answer?’
‘Not particularly. I’d never tried to make a call so late and I wasn’t sure if the exchange worked all night… Besides which, the telephone at Saxton Grange was always going wrong.’
‘Did you know there was another telephone in the office?’
‘Of course.’
‘And though the office had been locked up for the night, you knew where the keys were kept did you not? Did it not occur to you to try calling from the office?’
‘I knew where the keys were, but I thought that if the one telephone was out of order then the other one would be as well.’
‘You did not realise that the telephone in the office would still connect to the exchange, even though the wire to the house telephone had been cut?’
‘I didn’t know that any wires had been cut. Usually when the one telephone doesn’t work, you find the other one isn’t working either.’
‘Have you ever known Mr Morton to come in at half past eleven at night and go straight out again?’
‘Not so far as I can remember.’
‘So you must have thought it strange for Mr Morton to suggest such a thing?’
‘I didn’t think anything about it at all. It was nothing to do with me.’
‘He was not in a fit condition to be driving a motor car, was he?’
‘That was why I offered to put it in the garage for him, but he declined.’
