The Second Shot

by Anthony Berkeley

  The little coroner looked extremely uncomfortable. ‘The witness is quite right, Mr Gifford. I must agree with him that your last question was most unfair. You must, you certainly must – h’rrrrrm! – frame them more carefully.’

  Mr Gifford eyed me maliciously. ‘Certainly, if the witness is becoming uneasy. We will put it in this way, Mr Pinkerton.’

  But there is no need for me to continue. Every possible bad construction was put on my actions, not outright in spite of my protest but still only to be inferred. I answered calmly, but I did not seem to be answering consciously at all. A curious dreamlike fatalism had taken possession of me, in which everything seemed already predestined for the worst, and though I could hear myself from outside, as it were, replying to one damning question after another, it really did not matter in the least what I said as my fate was already settled.

  Finally I gave way to this sensation by replying quietly to one of the endless questions as to why I had done this and that, and why I had not done that and the other: ‘For this reason, sir. I knew the police suspected me of having shot Mr Scott-Davies, and in such circumstances it seemed to me folly to volunteer information which could only confirm their view. I think if an unfortunate set of chances ever placed you in a similar position, sir, or any other person in this room, you would act in precisely the same way.’

  That, I believe, did take the man aback for a moment. Indeed I have been given to understand that it created what the newspapers the next day described as a ‘sensation’. But I was past caring at the moment.

  The fellow of course recovered himself the next instant and managed to take advantage of me. He turned to the coroner and said: ‘In his own interests, I think I had better ask this witness no further questions until he has had proper advice.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ said the little coroner hastily. ‘Er – thank you, Mr Pinkerton. That will do. You – er – you may stand down’.

  I returned to my seat, and the shocked faces of Ethel and John, conscious that every eye was pursuing me and hearing quite audibly the expulsion of pent-up breath which followed me there. From John’s reproachful silence, and Ethel’s gasps, I gathered I had thrown away any chance I might have had of avoiding an adverse verdict, or even arrest. Well, what did it matter?

  I relapsed into something approaching a conscious stupor.

  Vaguely I was aware of John’s name being called, and of his rising from my side, but I retain only the dimmest impression of his actual evidence. I was, in fact, encouraging the strange torpor which had possessed me. I leaned back into it, so to speak, and let it envelop me; it was a curious but very welcome refuge from the dismal realities which confronted me. I have no doubt it was cowardice, but I think it may be regarded as a not unnatural reaction for my bruised nervous system.

  I learned afterwards that John’s evidence produced nothing fresh, nor Ethel’s after him. They were both eager, over-eager perhaps, to say anything possible in my favour, but there was little opportunity. John, for instance, was forced to recount the incident of my immersion by Scott-Davies in the swimming pool, and though Ethel did her best to assure the court that my supposed attraction for Elsa Verity had no foundation beyond a pleasant liking (which cannot have been very nice for the girl, sitting there in full view of everyone, to hear) I gathered later that she felt even her own words to be carrying small conviction.

  Dr Samson was next called, and confirmed our impression that the bullet had passed straight through the dead man’s heart. He was not pressed as to the estimated time of death, as the point was not in question. He was followed by Superintendent Hancock.

  The superintendent’s evidence did not amount to much, I believe. He was entirely noncommittal, confining himself to facts, such as there were of them. The chief thing which impressed John, as he told us afterwards, was the fairness with which the superintendent allowed the theory of accident. He admitted frankly that, on the facts, there was very little inconsistent with the verdict of accidental death. The path of the bullet was the only thing which seemed to point definitely away from it.

  One interesting point came out in this connection. The rifle lying on the ground behind Scott-Davies bore his fingerprints only. This in itself we knew already to be without necessary significance; but what did sound significant was the fact that the position of the prints indicated that Eric had both held the rifle in the usual way by the middle, and had also grasped it by the end of the barrel – in precisely the way he would have done had he really been dragging it after him. Whether this added more meaning to the fact of his prints being there at all, is not for me to say; but the court was undoubtedly interested to hear that the prints on the other gun that had fired the blank cartridge, which it had already been stated in evidence that I had produced from Eric’s limp fingers, were haphazard, and showed no holding position.

  The coroner then adjourned for the luncheon interval, and I had to bring myself back to life. As I passed out of the barn I was only too conscious of the curious looks that accompanied me.

  At the door Superintendent Hancock spoke to John. ‘All your party will come back this afternoon, sir, won’t they – even those who’ve given evidence already? The coroner may want to recall them.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said John stiffly.

  I felt a mild surprise that I was allowed to follow him out at all.

  chapter twelve

  Luncheon was a dismal meal. Nobody said much. Even the De Ravels seemed to have abated their hostility towards me, which was in itself a bad sign. Sheringham did not appear at all. I was told that he had asked for a packet of sandwiches and taken himself off somewhere, no one knew where. Poor Armorel avoided my eyes, and I noticed that her hands shook from time to time as she handled her implements; evidently she was dreading her appearance at the witness table. As for Miss Verity, she appeared strangely composed, perhaps the most composed of all of us. In view of her painful position, it seemed to me odd. But I had already learned her possibilities of duplicity.

  When the proceedings were renewed she was the first witness called. My protective lethargy had now disappeared. I made a faint effort to recapture it, in self-defence, but without success, so turned to a careful attention to the evidence

  Elsa’s ordeal did not last long. She deposed that Eric and herself had got engaged on the morning of the tragedy, and that he had seemed quite his normal self that morning, which they had spent almost entirely together; her other evidence was concerned with her own movements after the little play, when she had gone to Bluebell Wood, waited there the stipulated time, and then come back to the house, to be met by Ethel with news of the tragedy. In fine, her evidence added nothing to our knowledge or to my aid.

  De Ravel, the next witness, provided me with a minor surprise. He admitted that his wife had been with him at the swimming pool, instead of where she was supposed to be sun-bathing, during the period when the two shots were fired. This he had apparently told the police after all. Mrs de Ravel confirmed his evidence. Asked the reason, she replied merely that the proceedings had bored her; she had thought them childish; and though prepared to tell our sham detectives that she had been sun-bathing, she had seen no reason why she need be alone in actual fact. How far all this was from the real truth of course the jury had no inkling, for the drama that had been so vividly acted in the drawing room had been touched upon only in passing and its real significance quite unrevealed.

  That the police had some kind of idea of her former relations with Eric was, however, shown by a few questions put to her by the man Gifford, but these were so delicately phrased (in contrast with the ones put to me) that it was possible to infer that the object in putting them had been, not to divulge the scandal to the jury, but to intimate that, though they might attach not much importance to it, the fact of the intrigue was known to the police and Mrs de Ravel had therefore better mind her p’s and q’s. I appreciated the subtlety. I appreciated also the completely unruffled insouciance with which Mrs de Ravel received
the intimation.

  Armorel was then called, the last of our little party.

  The opening of her evidence was stereotyped enough, with questions from the coroner to bring out her relation to Eric and so forth. The doctor having already stated that suicide was quite out of the question, no awkward queries were put to her which would have necessitated divulging Eric’s financial dilemma. It was quite perfunctorily that the coroner went on to ask her, as he had asked all the rest of us, about her movements after watching the mock murder.

  ‘I pretended to go up the hill to where I was supposed to be reading in a field, for the play we were doing,’ Armorel replied in a clear voice. ‘But I didn’t really. As soon as the others were out of sight I came back, and hid in the bushes at the side.’

  I started violently, and my heart seemed to stop beating for a moment and then gallop. What – what on earth was the girl going to say?

  I don’t know whether anyone but myself appreciated at once the tremendous, the absolutely overwhelming importance of this simple statement. I simply dared not glance at Ethel or John. I held my breath.

  The coroner looked merely surprised. ‘Oh? Why did you do that, Miss Scott-Davies?’

  ‘Well, it didn’t seem to matter. Like Mrs de Ravel, I thought it was all rather silly really, and it would do quite well enough if I just said I’d been reading in the field. I thought it would be more amusing to watch our detectives.’

  By this time the coroner had grasped something of the significance of this new development. He shuffled his notes and looked at Armorel reproachfully.

  ‘But didn’t you tell the police subsequently that in point of fact you had been in the field?’

  ‘Yes,’ Armorel agreed at once, with an amiable little smile. ‘Yes, I did. I suppose I shouldn’t have done really, but when I heard Eric was really dead I thought it would save an awful lot of bother. And of course after I’d once said so, I stuck to it. You know how one does,’ she added apologetically.

  I could hardly believe my ears. Armorel was standing there, in her pretty dress and hat, looking as much a picture of innocence as Elsa Verity herself, and apparently quite unaware of the sensation her words were causing; but I could not credit that her innocence was really sincere.

  ‘It was – it was most reprehensible of you, Miss Scott-Davies. Er – most reprehensible.’ The little coroner was obviously getting out of his depths.

  ‘Yes, I see that now,’ Armorel replied sadly. ‘I’m so sorry. But I’ll tell you the truth now.’

  I did glance then at Superintendent Hancock. That bulky person was no longer examining the toes of his boots. His eyes were for Armorel and nothing else.

  ‘Well – er – what did you do next?’ asked the coroner helplessly.

  ‘Oh, I waited till it was all over,’ Armorel answered, perfectly unperturbed, ‘and Mr Pinkerton and the others had gone, and then I came out. Eric was just getting up from where he’d been lying, and I said to him – ’

  ‘One minute, Miss Scott-Davies, one minute,’ interposed the coroner hurriedly. ‘I think it is my duty, in the interests of justice, to point out to you the extreme gravity of the statement you are making. Before you say anything more, you must realize that this means that you become the last person to admit to having seen your cousin alive, and – ’

  ‘Well, I suppose I was,’ Armorel said calmly. ‘I’ve always known that, really. Except the person who shot him, of course. I mean, if he was shot, as the police seem to think. Personally, I don’t.’

  The coroner looked for help to Superintendent Hancock. ‘Er – Superintendent, in view of this development, this highly unexpected development, would you prefer me to adjourn for today? You will doubtless have to rearrange – h’m…’

  ‘I think, sir,’ replied the superintendent grimly, ‘that as the witness says she is now ready to tell us the truth, we had better let her do so, before she changes her mind again.’

  ‘Yes,’ Armorel calmly nodded her approval. ‘I’d rather.’

  I could contain myself no longer. I jumped to my feet. ‘Mr Coroner, I insist on – ’

  ‘Sit down, sir!’ suddenly barked the coroner, glad no doubt to have a chance of barking at all.

  ‘Yes, sit down, Pinkie,’ Armorel echoed. ‘I’m going to tell them, and you can’t stop me.’

  ‘But – ’

  ‘Silence!’ positively roared the little coroner, glaring round. The titters caused by Armorel’s ill-timed remark hastily subsided.

  So did I, for John pulled me down most forcibly by the slack of my coat. ‘Sit down and shut up, Cyril,’ he whispered fiercely in my ear, ‘or I’ll hit you in the wind.’

  The coroner turned his glare on me. ‘If you interrupt the witness again, sir, I’ll – I’ll have you removed.’

  ‘Shall I go on?’ said Armorel blandly.

  ‘If you please, Miss Scott-Davies.’

  ‘Well, I said to Eric, “Well done, old scout, you make a marvellous corpse,” or something silly like that, and asked him if he was coming up; and he said, “Run away, little girl; I’ve got something important to do before I go up, and it doesn’t want a third party,” or something like that.’

  ‘Do you swear to those exact words?’ asked the coroner severely.

  ‘Good gracious, no. I mean, that was the sort of idea.’

  ‘Anyhow, he gave you plainly to understand that he had something important to do?’

  ‘Oh, yes. In fact I think he said something about having to see a man about a dog.’

  ‘Silence!’ roared the coroner, and again the laughter died hurriedly away. ‘Yes?’

  But Mr Gifford had already jumped up. ‘Miss Scott-Davies, can you swear that he used the expression ‘third party’? Think carefully, please.’

  Armorel gave an imitation (I knew it was an imitation) of thinking carefully. ‘Ye-es. Yes, I can. I remember quite distinctly.’

  ‘Did that give you the impression that his important business was concerned with another person? Was, in fact, in the nature of an appointment?’

  ‘Why, yes,’ Armorel said, as if in surprise. ‘That’s exactly what it did do. So I didn’t butt in, you see.’

  Mr Gifford sat down, with an important little bow to the coroner.

  ‘Then what did you do?’ asked the latter.

  ‘Well, I watched him go off, and – ’

  ‘One moment, Miss Scott-Davies. Which way did he go?’

  ‘Why, into the other clearing, of course,’ Armorel said, again as if in surprise. ‘At least, I suppose so. I’d never been along that particular path myself.’

  ‘Do you mean the path on which his body was found?’

  ‘No, no; the other one. But I can’t say I paid any particular attention. It was all one to me.’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I started to go up alone, but a bush of wild honeysuckle caught my eye back by the stream. It was the first I’d seen out, and I knew Ethel – Mrs Hillyard – would like some, so I went back to gather it.’

  ‘Can you tell us exactly where this honeysuckle bush was?’

  ‘I’ll try to. It is on the extreme left of the big clearing where they’d been doing the play, as one faced the stream; right by the water.’

  ‘I see. Then it was on the other side of the clearing from the direction in which your cousin had disappeared?’

  ‘That’s right. Well, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to gather wild honeysuckle, but if you have you know that a bush that looks marvellous in the distance looks quite mangy close to. This one did, so I didn’t gather any, but right on the other side I caught sight of another, so I thought – Oh, by the way, I ought to have said that the first shot went off while I was looking at the bush.’

  I think everybody in the court gasped. I know I did.

  ‘Ah!’ said the coroner. ‘From what direction did it come?’

  We hung on Armorel’s answer.

  ‘Oh, from the direction Eric had gone. It was quite close. Of
course I thought he’d fired it himself.’

  ‘But surely you went to see what had happened?’

  Armorel looked quite astonished. ‘Good gracious, no. If I’d gone to see what had happened every time I thought Eric had fired a shot, I should have been running about all day.’

  The coroner seemed a little discomfited. ‘But you knew he hadn’t a gun with him?’

  ‘I didn’t know anything of the sort,’ Armorel retorted. ‘As a matter of fact I didn’t think about it at all, but if I had I should have supposed he’d taken the one that had been lying on the ground. I didn’t notice whether he had or not. I simply didn’t think about it at all.’

  ‘I see. Well, then, what did you do?’

  ‘Oh, I’d seen another honeysuckle bush on the other side, and I thought I might as well go and have a look at that too.

  It was close to the stream as well, by the path – the ordinary path along the stream, you know.’

  ‘But on the other side of the big clearing?’

  ‘Well, beyond it really. I saw it along the path. In fact it was in the bushes that separate the little clearing from the path along the stream, rather tucked in, so that I had to go in after it. I could only see the top sticking up above the bushes from where I’d been before.’

  ‘Perhaps you’ll mark the places of these two honeysuckle bushes on this plan, Miss Scott-Davies.’

  One of the policemen took the plan over to her, with a pencil, and after poring over it for a few moments Armorel marked two spots on it. ‘That’s as near as I can remember,’ she said easily.

  On the coroner’s direction, the plan was passed among the jury. They looked at it intently, but I doubt whether any of them learned much from it.

  ‘Yes, Miss Scott-Davies?’