Eventually it was decided that unless some unforeseen point arose during the hearing, no adjournment would be made, and the inquest was fixed for the afternoon of the third day. This was Friday and the hour of 1.30 p.m. on the Monday following was agreed on. It was believed that this would give ample time for the post mortem as well as the search for the will in London, while so far as the remains were concerned, it was felt that another three days’ delay would make little difference. The coroner decided that the inquiry should take place at Lurigan, as he thought that the jury should view not only the body but the grave also.
Armed with Sir John’s keys, French that night crossed back to London and next morning opened the safe in the deceased’s study. He had asked the senior partner of Messrs Hepplewhite, Ingram & Ingram, Sir John’s lawyers, to be present, as well as the secretary, Breene. Immediately he found the missing will. After a glance he put it aside and spent a couple of hours going through the remaining papers. But there was nothing else bearing even remotely on the old gentleman’s fate. Nor was there a trace of any plans, either of the linen-silk invention or of anything else. Then, having asked Sir John’s stockbroker to join them, he and Mr Ingram read the will and worked out what its provisions meant at the current date.
The summary given French by Miss Magill proved substantially correct. £50,000 was left to each of the sisters, Malcolm and Victor, the Knightsbridge house going in addition to the elder sister. Another £50,000 was consumed by small legacies to servants and others as well as in gifts to charities. Of these Breene’s name was down for £5000. A sum of £400,000 was left in trust. Malcolm was to have the life use of it and at his death it was to go to his son. If Malcolm had no male issue it was to go to Sir John’s only other male relative, Victor Magill. He also was to have the life use of it and similarly at his death it was to go to his son. Of this arrangement Malcolm and Victor were appointed trustees. If Victor had no son the money at his death was to be be divided equally among any surviving members of the family. All these bequests were to be free of legacy duty, the residuary legatee being Malcolm.
The whole of these provisions seemed clear enough except the last, but to ascertain the amount coming to Malcolm as residuary legatee meant a spell of exceedingly hard work lasting for the entire afternoon. Even then a good many of the figures arrived at were estimates rather than actually calculated amounts. But at last a sum was reached which it was agreed could not be much in error. By this Malcolm as residuary legatee received £124,000.
It followed therefore that as a result of his father’s death Malcolm would receive £174,000 absolutely, as well as a life interest in £400,000 more. And French believed that if Malcolm were unscrupulous enough to commit a murder for gain, he would have little difficulty in converting at least a portion of this trust to his own use.
Here then was all that the most exacting jury could require in the way of motive. Malcolm was in financial difficulties, Malcolm stood to gain by his father’s death, Malcolm … As French sat in the 8.30 Stranraer boat train on Sunday night he ran over the familiar steps of the argument. And the more he did so, the more adequate they sounded.
He went through to Belfast and by half past nine was seated once more in Rainey’s office. The superintendent did not seem over-pleased with his report.
‘That’s life,’ he grumbled. ‘And it’s drama too,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Here you turn up with a bit of evidence that a couple of days ago we’d have given our ears for, and while you’re getting it we’re learning that it’s no use to us. I’ll tell you,’ he went on in answer to French’s look. ‘We’ve learned a good deal since you left. We’ve pretty well got proof of Malcolm’s innocence, or rather we never could get a conviction against the evidence that’s turned up.’ He shook his head disgustedly.
French still looked his question and Rainey went on in the manner of a professional demonstrating a mathematical proposition.
‘First look at it from the point of view of time. Sir John was alive in Whitehead at nine o’clock on Thursday night. He was murdered—for it was murder—either that night or shortly after. It was just a week till we found the body and both doctors agree that death must have taken place about a week earlier. They couldn’t tell that to the day, but they’re both prepared to swear death took place before Sunday.’
French nodded.
‘Now, will you admit one other point? The man who buried the body was the murderer?’
This also seemed unquestionable. It was the obviously likely thing; besides there was no suggestion in the evidence of a second person being involved.
‘Very good, sir,’ French agreed.
‘We know already that Malcolm Magill must have left his home by the usual time on the next morning, Friday, because of the time he called at the Grand Central Hotel and here. But we’ve since learned that he went from here to the mill and remained there till the afternoon. Then he motored to Derry and spent Friday night, Saturday and Saturday night with some friends at a little place called Culmore. He returned on Sunday, reaching home in time for tea. All that we have checked up and it has been established beyond question. It therefore follows that if Malcolm did not bury the body on that Thursday night or Friday morning he did not not bury it at all.’
Once again Rainey paused for French’s agreement.
‘The question then left is: Did Malcolm bury the body on Thursday night or Friday morning? If he did, he is guilty, if not, he is innocent.’
French nodded as he changed his position.
‘That’s what I like, sir,’ he declared; ‘getting things cut and dry like that. There’s no doubt you’re right so far.’
‘I think it’s right enough,’ Rainey agreed. ‘Now that night is divided into two parts, up till Malcolm’s arrival home, and after it. Let us consider the first part.
‘Malcolm’s movements with the car have been absolutely demonstrated. He could not by any possibility have run to Lurigan with the body before his final return at 11.25—there would not have been time. Therefore if he brought the body to Lurigan it could only have been on that last journey. Further, on that occasion he left Whitehead at 10.55 and reached Lurigan at 11.25—fourteen miles—an average of twenty-eight miles an hour, good enough for night travelling. It would therefore have been utterly impossible for him to have stopped on this trip to bury the body. Therefore he could not have done it till after his arrival home.’
French readily agreed.
‘Now from 11.43 at night, when Malcolm rang up his friends at Whitehead, until 7.00 next morning, when both the servants heard him going to his bath, we have Mrs Magill’s positive statement that he never left the house. Of course such a statement doesn’t amount to much if unsupported, though I think if you knew the lady you’d give it a good deal of weight. But it so happens there is confirmation. For two or three days before this, Malcolm had been slightly unwell, some small internal upset. Whether due to worry about his father or from some other cause, this developed on his return home into a sharp bilious attack. Mrs Magill was up with him most of the night and the servants were wakened, first to look for a bottle of medicine which had been lent to the cook and which she had not returned, and secondly, to heat water for hot water bottles. About five in the morning the attack passed over and Malcolm fell asleep. When seven o’clock came Malcolm insisted on getting up, though he was by no means well. The Magills’ statement is amply confirmed by the servants and we have questioned everyone so carefully as to preclude the possibility of a concerted story. The house was disturbed practically all night and in my opinion it would have been utterly impossible for Malcolm to have slipped out secretly and remained out for the time required for burying the body.’
French was puzzled. This seemed conclusive enough, and yet …
‘Suppose the major deliberately took something to upset himself,’ he said doubtfully.
Rainey twisted impatiently.
‘Suppose he did, French, suppose he did. How would that affect things
? If Malcolm had given his household mild sleeping draughts, that would be another matter. But surely to goodness he wouldn’t do anything to keep them awake! Besides there’s another—’
There was a knock at the door and a constable entered and saluted smartly.
‘Beg pardon, sir,’ he said. ‘The Commissioner’s compliments and he’d be obliged if you could step up and see him now,’ adding as a sort of personal aside, ‘He’s got some gentleman from the Home Office with him.’
Rainey swore impatiently. ‘That’ll take me the rest of the morning till it’s time to start for that infernal inquest. And there was more I had to tell you, also confirming Malcolm’s innocence.’
French sighed. If all this new evidence were true it meant that they hadn’t begun to solve their case.
‘But there’s no suspicion against anyone but Malcolm,’ he lamented.
‘No,’ said Rainey as he rapidly collected papers from his desk, ‘and I’ll tell you why. The murderer is an Englishman and the secret lies in England.’
French shrugged. If the superintendent was going to take that line there was nothing more to be said. But Rainey gave him no time to say anything, even if he had wished to.
‘Don’t misunderstand me or think I am criticising what you have done, French,’ he said kindly. ‘It’s not that at all. Simply I believe there’s more in this case than we’ve yet tumbled to. We may never get it. But I think we should try. Sorry I’ve to go. Well, get a bite of lunch and make your own way down to Larne. I’ll see you at the inquest.’
7
Lurigan
As the appointed hour drew near a formidable fleet of cars blocked up the approaches to Malcolm Magill’s house. Besides the coroner, the police, the jury and the witnesses, a goodly number of the general public had attended in the hope of gaining admission. The details of the finding of the body had got into the papers, and apart from Malcolm’s prominent position, the sensational nature of the case had aroused intense interest all over the province.
The dining-room, a long low room with bow window at both side and end, had been cleared for the occasion. At the head of the table sat Dr Wylie, the coroner, a medical practitioner with a reputation for extreme shrewdness as well as kindliness and professional skill. Near him were Rainey, French and M’Clung. Beside M’Clung was a small, dark, vivacious-looking man whom French did not know. At the foot of the table on a couple of rows of chairs sat the jury. Representatives of the press were accommodated at a side table, while the remainder of the room was filled by two or three constables, a long row of witnesses and as many members of the general public as could squeeze themselves in.
After the preliminaries and the viewing of the body and grave had been completed, the coroner briefly addressed the jury. He was afraid, he said, the case was a complicated one and would occupy a good deal of their time. He knew, however, that they would give this ungrudgingly in the interests of justice. But before going on to the evidence he thought he would only be interpreting their wishes if he were to express to Major Magill and Mr Victor Magill, who, he understood, was also present, as well as the other members of the late Sir John Magill’s family, their sympathy with them in their tragic loss. And now, Sergeant, who was the first witness?
At this the vivacious man jumped up and said that he appeared for Major Magill. In answer to French’s look Rainey whispered that he was a Mr Dinsmore, one of the best known and most skilful criminal lawyers in Northern Ireland.
Sergeant M’Clung, instructed by Superintendent Rainey, was in charge of the case for the police, and very nervous he looked. It was his first really big case and he found the presence of so many ‘high up’ people embarrassing. However he rose to his feet and in a firm voice called ‘Malcolm Howard Magill!’ indicating immediately that this mode of address was not of his own choosing by adding in a more deprecating tone, ‘Come forward, if you please, sir.’
Malcolm looked pale and ill at ease as he stepped to the table and was sworn. The ceremony over, M’Clung solicitously pulled forward a chair, and when Malcolm had seated himself his examination began.
Under the coroner’s not unskilful lead Malcolm first deposed that the body on which the inquest was being held was that of his father, John Porter Magill. He next told of his father’s career in Belfast and retirement to London, and of the handing over of the mills to himself. He described the relations which had obtained between himself and his father, including his recent request for financial assistance and its refusal. He denied absolutely that this refusal had led to any estrangement or bitter feelings on the part of either concerned. Then he recounted the receipt of Sir John’s letter saying he was crossing to Belfast and asking to be put up, his own call at and subsequent telephone to the Grand Central Hotel, and his surprise at not seeing Sir John at the mill. He told of the telephone from Whitehead and of his taking out his car to search for his father. In detail he described his movements with the hours of his arrival and departure at the various places, followed next morning by his call at police headquarters in Belfast. Finally he spoke of the discovery of Sir John’s body in the plantation and his own horror and mystification thereat.
During Malcolm’s evidence there was more than one passage at arms—skilfully veiled under the guise of a respectful request for information—between his solicitor, the vivacious Mr Dinsmore, and the coroner. It was surprising to both French and Rainey to notice how little attempt Dinsmore made to hide the fact that he considered his client’s position precarious. To every question which might bring out a fact prejudicial to Malcolm he strenuously objected. Some of these objections the coroner finally admitted and some he did not.
These activities of Dinsmore’s revealed to an otherwise unsuspecting jury the significance of a good deal of the evidence. French observed more than one juror looking at Malcolm with a surprised, questioning air. And the further Malcolm’s evidence went, the more self-conscious and uneasy Malcolm himself appeared. He evidently realised what was indeed the fact, that he was making a painfully bad impression on his audience.
However, his evidence came to an end at last and he stepped back from the table. When he had signed his deposition Herbert Breene came forward and took the oath. He stated that he was an ex-army man and that he had acted as secretary to Sir John for the previous eight years. He told about Sir John’s statement that he was crossing to Belfast to see an engineer about his linen-silk invention and his instruction that he, Breene, should be at the Grand Central Hotel at 10.30 the following morning to take details of any agreement that might be come to between them. He described his fruitless wait in the hotel all that day and night. He had seen the body and he identified it as Sir John’s. The deceased was a wealthy man, blessed with good health and a cheerful disposition. He, Breene, did not believe he had an enemy in the world.
Here the coroner asked some searching questions as to the alleged disagreement on financial matters between Sir John and Malcolm. But he did not get much from Breene, who merely said that so far as he knew there had been a difference of opinion, but neither serious nor heated and not in any sense a quarrel.
Breene gave his evidence quietly, but with a convincing force. ‘I’ll take you next yourself, Sergeant,’ the coroner decreed and M’Clung in his turn took the oath.
Asked to recount in his own words the steps taken by the police as a result of Malcolm’s call, the sergeant described the checking of the movements first of Sir John and then of Malcolm and Breene, as recounted in Malcolm’s statement. Then he told of the discovery of the marks of the struggle and of the hat. He mentioned Malcolm’s second visit to police headquarters to suggest that the co-operation of Scotland Yard should be sought, following this with an account of his own visit to London and French’s taking over of the English end of the inquiry. Next he read the X.Y.Z. letter and described the search of the Lurigan plantation and the discovery and opening of the grave.
While all this evidence was being given, popular interest, which had been keen enough
at the start, had grown to fever heat. The reason for Malcolm’s uneasiness seemed now to be realised on all sides, and while no one would meet his eye, he became the object of covert stares from all parts of the room.
Myles, the butler, was next called. He identified the clothes in which the body was found as those Sir John was wearing on the night he left London. He also identified the hat, produced, as that worn by Sir John on the same occasion. He confirmed Breene’s evidence as to his master’s character and temperament, bearing testimony to the kindness he himself had received at his hands.
The stationmaster at Larne was the next witness. He had seen the remains and they were those of a gentleman who had come off the Stranraer boat on the morning of Thursday, 3rd October. This gentleman had given his name as Sir John Magill. The stationmaster then went on to tell of Sir John’s request that his luggage should be sent to Major Magill’s, and how he had seen him leave in the train for Belfast.
Superintendent Rainey then got up and said that evidence had been obtained from various witnesses which led to the presumption that Sir John had spent the day in Belfast, travelling to Whitehead by the eight o’clock that night. None of this information, however, had seemed material to the police and they had not therefore called these witnesses. Should, however, the coroner desire, they would be produced.
To this the coroner replied that he noted the superintendent’s statement, and should he think it necessary when he had heard the remainder of the evidence, he would say so.
Inspector French: Sir John Magill's Last Journey Page 8
