“If anyone deserves censure in this matter,” he said, his voice accusing, “I suggest it be the master-at-arms, who, by breaking into that stateroom at that particular moment, interrupted who knows what lovely idyll?”
He stepped back, indicating his statement was over. There was a burst of applause, instantly quelled as Captain Manley-Norville rapped sharply on the music stand with his left hand.
“I think,” he said in his deep voice, “that we all owe Sir Percival a vote of thanks for bringing the truth into the open. I also think we owe Mr. Carruthers an apology for falsely detaining him. He may step down.”
The Captain’s eyes searched out the master-at-arms; the look he gave the man clearly indicated what he, the Captain, thought of people who recklessly destroyed ship’s property which he, the Captain, would have to account for later to the line’s directors. Behind him Miss Grumkin struggled bravely with her pothooks. It had occurred to her that possibly putting down every fifth word—or a reasonable facsimile—might handle the situation, assuming she could remember to fill in the blanks later.
Sir Percival nodded his head with appropriate gratitude for the court’s decision and then stepped forward again. The buzzing in the room instantly stopped.
“Before we can get to the purpose of this inquest as stated earlier,” he said, “there is still the matter of my client, Mr. Briggs. Again, I’m afraid, a matter easily cleared up. . . .”
He paused impressively for a few seconds and then referred to a piece of paper which seemed to have appeared in his hand by legerdemain. His eye passed over little Briggs, sitting pitifully alone on the coffee table, and came to rest on a person in the row of witnesses. His audience tensed a bit. Now they were dealing with a matter of murder! Sir Percival appreciated the change in emotional ambience and treated it with appropriate respect by dropping his voice so that every ear had to strain to hear.
“Mr. Alfred Williamson, if you please. . . .”
13
Interrogation conducted by Sir Percival Pugh:
Q: Your name is Alfred A. Williamson?
A: Yer called me name, didn’t yer? An’ I come, didn’t I? Think I don’t know me own name? ’Ow many Fred A. Williamsons yer think they got on this ’ere bucket?
Q: I don’t know, but I’m beginning to suspect one too many. However: you are employed in the maintenance division of this ship?
A: Now yer got it, cock!
CAPTAIN MANLEY-NORVILLE (interrupting): Now see here, my man! You’ll watch your tongue when you’re addressing Sir Percival, do you hear?
A: Oh raht, Capt’n. Yar, sir!
SIR PERCIVAL PUGH (resumes): To get back to where we were: on Wednesday, July 17—two days ago—you were sent by your section chief to B Deck, Stateroom B-67, for the purpose of repairing a broken door?
A: Who else was to fix it?
Q: I have no idea. Would you answer my question, please?
A: Oh raht. Sure, I was sent.
Q: Could you give us the details?
A: What details? Day before ol’ fink King James the Vee, ’im an’ a sailor bustit in the door and practically took ’er raht off the ’inges. Bent ’em somethin’ fierce. It ’ad to be the sailor what done the job, becos ol’ King James, ’e couldn’t bust ’is way out of ’is pijamers without ’is ol’ lady’s ’elp.
SIR PERCIVAL (addressing the Captain): Never mind, Captain. I can handle this. Now, Mr. Williamson, how does it happen that the door was broken on Tuesday, and it was only on the Wednesday that you were sent to repair it?
A: Like I told you, them ’inges was all twisted-like. They ’ad to fashion up some new ones in the shop. An’ them blacksmiths don’t work like us fitters, if yer was to ask me!
Q: But was the door open, then, during the nearly twenty-four hours that the hinges were being fashioned?
A: Naw, sir. Them ol’ ’inges was still on the door, only it meant yer ’ad to tug like a baskit to get the door open.
Q: I see. But what about the lock?
A: That was a proper mess, a dead loss. They rigged up a ’asp and a padlock-like. I took ’em orf when I fixed the new lock in place, like.
Q: I see. So that even though almost a day had passed since the accident to the door, access was still barred for unauthorized personnel. But tell me, how would the steward or stewardess be able to get in to clean the room?
A: Orl our padlocks got master keys, same as the door locks. Stewards, stewardesses, master-at-arms, Captain—they all got master keys. Otherwise it’d be a proper mess, sir, the way passengers lose keys! You wouldn’t believe!
Q: I would believe. Now, to return to your fixing the door on Wednesday: at what time were you sent up there? Or, better, at what time did you complete your task?
A: They tol’ me yer’d ask that question, so I brung ine time card, like. Got to punch in an’ punch out on every bleedin’ job like a bleedin’ convick! Anyways, it was eleven-oh-five I punched in, and the job took an hour on the button. See?
Q: I see, indeed. Now, as I understand it, you were finished with your work when you met Mr. Briggs in the corridor, is that correct?
A: You got it, cock! I mean, yar, sir!
Q: And you gave him the keys to the cabin, asking him if he would be so kind as to leave them at the purser’s desk since—in your coveralls—you were not encouraged to go to the purser’s square. Is that correct?
A: That’s raht, and ’e was a real gent, ’e was, cos ’e said ’e’d do it. An’ if yer tryin’ to ’ang anythin’ on a gent like ’im, orl I can say is I ’opes yer ain’t expectin’ no ’elp from me!
Q: My dear Mr. Williamson, I am Mr. Briggs’ counsel. I am trying to free him of this ridiculous charge. Haven’t you been paying any attention at all since you’ve been in this room?
A: I was lookin’ around, see? I don’t get up ’ere much except to fix somethin’ broke, and then I got to get back to the shop quick-like, see? But if yer tryin’ to ’elp the ol’ man, I owes yer an apology, sir. I didn’t understand. I’ll answer any other questions yer got, any way yer wants ’em answered, if that’ll ’elp, sir.
Q: I appreciate your kind intentions, Mr. Williamson, but the truth will do just fine. Tell me, would it have been possible for Mr. Briggs to have entered the cabin—B-67—during the period when you were working on the door? I mean, did you have to return to stores for tools or materials or things of that nature during the hour you were assigned to repair the door?
A: Not bloody likely! I mean, naw, sir. They tol’ me what was wrong an’ I brung the lot with me. Our chief, he screams if yer got to go back fer anythin’. A ship ain’t like a bleedin’ plumber’s shop on land, and yer can believe it!
Q: I believe it. So Mr. Briggs could therefore only have gained entrance to cabin B-67 after twelve-oh-five, according to your testimony. Only after you handed him the keys?
A: That’s raht, sir.
Q: Thank you, Mr. Williamson. You’re excused. You may return to your seat.
A: Raht, sir.
SIR PERCIVAL (to the line of witnesses): May I next have the ship’s surgeon on the stand? Thank you. . . .
Q: Your name is Doctor Hugh Ramsey?
A: That is correct.
Q: On Wednesday, July 17—two days ago—you were called to the cabin of Mrs. Carpenter? Stateroom B-67?
A: I was.
Q: May I ask by whom? And at what hour?
A: The master-at-arms, Mr. James—I mean, Mr. King— called me on the cabin telephone telling me of the accident, and I took my bag and went there at once. The call came at about twelve-ten, I should judge, because I was just preparing to go to lunch, and I remember the second gong h id just sounded. I was at the Carpenter stateroom within a matter of two or three minutes.
Q: And, may I ask, what did you find?
A: The stewardess was having hysterics; I told the master-at- arms to take her to hospital and have one of my nurses give her a sedative. I then entered the bath, where I had been told the accident had t
aken place. The body of Mrs. Carpenter was lying in the shower stall, folded up, but it was still evident that she had been stabbed several times in the chest and abdomen.
Q: What did you do then?
A: The first thing I did was to determine that death had, indeed, taken place, although there wasn’t the faintest doubt. I checked for pulse and breath. There was none. Once it had been determined that she was beyond medical care, I returned to the stateroom proper and telephoned the Captain, informing him of the circumstances.
Q: And then?
A: I waited until the Captain arrived. He was followed almost immediately by Mr. James—I mean, King—who was returning from the infirmary. He had stopped in his quarters and brought along a camera and flashbulbs, and he took pictures of the corpse from several angles. When he had finished, I was permitted to have the body removed to hospital.
Q: Did you there perform an autopsy?
A: No. I felt the cause of death was sufficiently clear. And the master-at-arms, Mr. James—I mean, King—gave me to understand that the identity of the murderer was clear.
Q: But, still, you must have arrived at some idea of the time of death?
A: Well, I did take the body temperature and recorded it for the proper land authorities, and I also stated in my notes the condition of advancement of blood coagulation on the scene, although depending upon the type of shower the victim had taken, hot or cold, these times can vary greatly.
Q: I note you say “depending upon the type of shower the victim had taken.” Was the body, then, wet?
A: No. It was completely dry.
Q: But then, either the shower had not been taken, or the water must have evaporated from the skin. Is this not true?
A: Yes, but it’s not surprising. After all, after several hours—
Q: Did you say several hours?
A: Yes, why? Mrs. Carpenter had been dead a minimum of three or four hours when I saw her. However, the exact time—
Interruption by a minor sensation in the court—the Main Salon, that is. Captain Manley-Narville raps for order, now using a baton he has discovered on the music stand. When at last the furor dies down, he speaks.
CAPTAIN MANLEY-NORVILLE: It seems eminently clear to me that it has been proven without a doubt that Mr. Briggs could not possibly have committed this crime, because of the time element involved. He is therefore permitted to stand down. His purpose in entering the stateroom in the first place will be overlooked in view of the fact that nothing seems to be missing from the premises, and also in view of the fact that he has already suffered two days of incarceration. However, in this case—as differentiated from that of Mr. Carruthers—I specifically wish the record to show that no apology is being offered him. Miss Grumkin? Have you gotten that?
Miss GRUMKIN (close to tears and now writing in longhand, frantically): . . . overlooked in view of the fact . . .
CAPTAIN MANLEY-NORVILLE: Sir Percival, may I congratulate you on a brilliant exposition, one well up to the always-high standards you are so deservedly known for. And now, if we’re all through—
SIR PERCIVAL PUGH: Captain Manley-Norville, if I might interrupt: we are far from finished with this inquest. In fact, we are just getting to it, if I may say so. I should like to continue to interrogate Dr. Ramsey, if I may.
CAPTAIN MANLEY-NORVILLE (sinking back in his seat): Oh, yes, of course. But first, steward—if you’d bring me a bit more of this—ah—vichy? The bartender on duty knows the brand. . . .
Q: Now, doctor, to return a moment to the scene of the crime: was any weapon in evidence?
A: No; but from what Mr. James—I mean King—told me, he said the murderer was so covered with lipstick when he was seen that he could have been carrying a blood-stained dirk in his teeth and nobody would have noticed.
Q: I rather doubt that statement, and in any event it is scarcely relevant since Mr. Briggs has been proven innocent. As for the master-at-arms, we’ll get to his testimony soon enough, and I’d prefer it direct.
A: Yes, sir.
Q: To return to Stateroom B-67, you were in there not too many hours before the events you have just described, were you not?
A: I was. As a matter of fact, all three of us—myself, Captain Manley-Norville, and Mr. King—I mean, James—no, I mean, King, don’t I?—were in there quite late the evening before. Midnightish, I should judge. Mrs. Carpenter had requested us to investigate the disappearance of her husband.
Q: I see. And what did you do? I mean, in what manner did you conduct this investigation?
A: Well, Mr.—the master-at-arms was sent to pick up a gang and search the ship, while the Captain and myself went over the bedroom and bath in some detail, in case there might have been any visible signs of foul play, you see.
Q: And did you discover any?
A: Well, we found some blood on the porthole sill that seemed to both of us to be rather significant. It looked very much as if someone might have put Mr. Carpenter through the porthole into the sea—I understand he had made enemies—and in trying to hold back, he might have cut himself on the edge of the hinge, which has a rather sharp edge. I cannot account for the blood being there, otherwise.
Q: Very interesting. Tell me, doctor, did you make any attempt to determine if the bloodstain on the porthole sill was of human origin, or of other animal origin?
A: Why, no. I had no reason to suspect it to be other than human blood. There are no animals allowed in the cabins.
Q: Do you have the necessary chemicals in your surgery to make such an analysis?
A: Oh, yes. Of course. There are various tests, but the simplest and quickest is merely to stain a dried preparation with selected dyes and measure the diameter of the red blood corpuscles. The human red blood corpuscle is about 1/3200 of an inch in diameter. A dog, now—
Q: I would rather not undertake a short course in forensics at this time, if you do not mind. I suggest the blood on that porthole sill is not human. Nor from a dog. I suggest it is chicken blood.
A: Chicken blood?
Q: Yes. I’m sorry if I startled you. Would it be possible, doctor, while I interrogate other witnesses, for you to do a rapid check upon my hypothesis?
A: Of course.
Q: You are, therefore, excused, but I shall resume taking your testimony immediately upon your return.
A: Thank you. I shall hurry.
SIR PERCIVAL (turning once again to the witness bench): I suppose we’d do as well starting on the card players next. Let me see . . . Mr. Montmorency? Your name is Marmaduke Montmorency?
A: And your name is Percival Pugh.
Q: Yes. We are partners in suffering. Tell me, Mr. Montmorency, you were involved in a bridge game not too long ago with the Carpenters, were you not?
A: I was.
Q: They cheated you, did they not?
A: They did.
Q: Did you resent it?
A: Very much. Especially since my wife had to tell me they were cheating us.
Q: I see. Tell me, Mr. Montmorency, would you say your resentment was such as to lead to the point of being desirous of stuffing Mr. Carpenter through a porthole, or tossing him over board, if it came to that? Or, of course, doing harm to Mrs. Carpenter?
A: Easily. (Minor sensation)
Q: Let me understand you very clearly on this, Mr. Montmorency. Are you confessing to ridding this ship of the Carpenter family?
A: No. You asked if I would have liked to. I would have liked to. But I didn’t.
Q: May I ask why not?
A: For the same reason I didn’t knock your block off when the other fellows at the table told me you were cheating me.
Q: And that reason is?
A: My wife wouldn’t let me.
Q: I see. I believe you can be excused, Mr. Montmorency. By the way, what do you weigh?
A: Twenty-one-odd stone. All muscle, if you want to check.
Q: Thank your wife for me, personally, will you? Thank you. May I have the next one in line, please? Ah, Mr. W
ilkins, is it not?
A: It is. Jimmy Wilkins, bookmaker and not ashamed of it. None of this turf-banker nonsense for me!
Q: I assume that you, too, Mr. Wilkins, realized that the Carpenters were cheating you and that you did not require your wife to bring the fact to your attention?
A: You know something? I didn’t for awhile. He was good, that bloke. Real good.
Q: I note you say “was,” using the past tense. What makes you feel that Mr. Carpenter belongs in that particular time sequence?
A: Because someone done him in, didn’t they? That’s the way I heard it. I wouldn’t speak of Zev in the present tense; nor Mrs. Carpenter, either, if it comes to that.
Q: I suppose you’re right. To continue, though: how soon did you discover you were being cheated?
A: About the third rubber, I'd say. She wasn’t anywhere near as cozy as him. And anyway, they were beating the odds just a bit much, if you know what I mean.
Q: I know exactly what you mean. But still, you continued to play?
A: Well, there wasn’t any other game around, you see.
Q: There’s always that, I suppose. Now, Mr. Wilkins, when you discovered you were being cheated, didn’t it get you angry?
A: No, as a matter of fact. You see, when you’re in my business, being cheated is all part of the bit, you might say. Everyone tries his hand at doing a bookmaker in the eye. It’s sort of a game—can he get away with it or can’t he? When I catch a bloke trying to cheat, I don’t toss him and his account out into the gutter—my Lord, I’d be out of business in a week, if I did. I usually just tell him he didn’t get away with it that time, and generally we end up with him buying me a pint and us having a good laugh about it over at the Hen and Eagle.
Q: Did you tell Mr. Carpenter he wasn’t getting away with it? And did he end up standing you a pint and having a good laugh with you about it?
A: Well, no. First of all he was a Yank, and you know them and their sense of humor. Doesn’t exist. And second, he never drank anything as far as I could see.
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