Lord Peter Wimsey [02] Clouds of Witness

by Dorothy L. Sayers

  "Ah, well--" said Mr. Bunter, "they say, my lord, there's nothing like having a personal interest."

  *** "The inquest was held to-day at Riddlesdale, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, on the body of Captain Denis Cathcart, which was found at three o'clock on Thursday morning lying just outside the conservatory door of the Duke of Denver's shooting-box, Riddlesdale Lodge. Evidence was given to show that deceased had quarrelled with the Duke of Denver on the preceding evening, and was subsequently shot in a small thicket adjoining the house. A pistol belonging to the Duke was found near the scene of the crime. A verdict of murder was returned against the Duke of Denver. Lady Mary Wimsey, sister of the Duke, who was engaged to be married to the deceased, collapsed after giving evidence, and is now lying seriously ill at the Lodge. The Duchess of Denver hastened from town yesterday and was present at the inquest. Full report on p. 12." "Poor old Gerald!" thought Lord Peter, as he turned to page 12; "and poor old Mary! I wonder if she really was fond of the fellow. Mother always said not, but Mary never would let on about herself."

  The full report began by describing the little village of Riddlesdale, where the Duke of Denver had recently taken a small shooting-box for the season. When the tragedy occurred the Duke had been staying there with a party of guests. In the Duchess's absence Lady Mary Wimsey had acted as hostess. The other guests were Colonel and Mrs. Marchbanks, the Hon. Frederick Arbuthnot, Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson, and the dead man, Denis Cathcart.

  The first witness was the Duke of Denver, who claimed to have discovered the body. He gave evidence that he was coming into the house by the conservatory door at three o'clock in the morning of Thursday, October 14th, when his foot struck against something.

  He had switched on his electric torch and seen the body of Denis Cathcart at his feet. He had at once turned it over, and seen that Cathcart had been shot in the chest.

  He was quite dead. As Denver was bending over the body, he heard a cry in the conservatory, and, looking up, saw Lady Mary Wimsey gazing out horror-struck. She came out by the conservatory door, and exclaimed at once, "O God, Gerald, you've killed him!" (Sensation.) [This report, though substantially the same as that read by Lord Peter in The Times, has been corrected, amplified and annotated from the shorthand report made at the time by Mr. Parker.]

  The Coroner: "Were you surprised by that remark?" Duke of D.: "Well, I was so shocked and surprised at the whole thing. I think I said to her, 'Don't look,' and she said, 'Oh, it's Denis! Whatever can have happened? Has there been an accident?' I stayed with the body, and sent her up to rouse the house."

  The Coroner: "Did you expect to see Lady Mary Wimsey in the conservatory?"

  Duke of D.: "Really, as I say, I was so astonished all round, don't you know, I didn't think about it."

  The Coroner: "Do you remember how she was dressed?"

  Duke of D.: "I don't think she was in her pyjamas." (Laughter.) "I think she had a coat on."

  The Coroner: "I understand that Lady Mary Wimsey was engaged to be married to the deceased?"

  Duke of D.: "Yes."

  The Coroner: "He was well known to you?" Duke of D.: "He was the son of an old friend of my father's; his parents are dead. I believe he lived chiefly abroad. I ran across him during the war, and in 1919 he came to stay at Denver. He became engaged to my sister at the beginning of this year."

  The Coroner: "With your consent, and with that of the family?"

  Duke of D.: "Oh, yes, certainly." The Coroner: "What kind of man was Captain Cathcart?" Duke of D.: "Well--he was a Sahib and all that. I don't know what he did before he joined in 1914. I think he lived on his income; his father was well off. Crack shot, good at games, and so on. I never heard anything against him--till that evening."

  The Coroner: "What was that?"

  Duke of D.: "Well--the fact is--it was deuced queer, He---- If anybody but Tommy Freeborn had said it I should never have believed it." (Sensation.)

  The Coroner: "I'm afraid I must ask your grace of what exactly you had to accuse the deceased." Duke of D.: "Well, I didn't--I don't exactly accuse him. An old friend of mine made a suggestion. Of course I thought it must be all a mistake, so I went to Cathcart, and, to my amazement, he practically admitted it! Then we both got angry, and he told me to go to the devil, and rushed out of the house." (Renewed sensation.)

  The Coroner: "When did this quarrel occur?"

  Duke of D.: "On Wednesday night. That was the last I saw of him." (Unparalleled sensation.)

  The Coroner: "Please, please, we cannot have this disturbance. Now, will your grace kindly give me, as far as you can remember it, the exact history of this quarrel?" Duke of D.: "Well, it was like this. We'd had a long day on the moors and had dinner early, and about half-past nine we began to feel like turning in. My sister and Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson toddled on up, and we were havin' a last peg in the billiard-room when Fleming--that's my man--came in with the letters. They come at any old time in the evening, you know, we being two and a half miles from the village. No--I wasn't in the billiard-room at the time--I was lockin' up the gun-room. The letter was from an old friend of mine I hadn't seen for years--Tom Freeborn--used to know him at the House----"

  The Coroner: "Whose house?"

  Duke of D.: "Oh, Christ Church, Oxford. He wrote to say he'd seen the announcement of my sister's engagement in Egypt."

  The Coroner: "In Egypt?" Duke of D.: "I mean, he was in Egypt--Tom Freeborn, you see--that's why he hadn't written before. He engineers. He went out there after the war was over, you see, and, bein' somewhere up near the sources of the Nile, he doesn't get the papers regularly. He said, would I 'scuse him for interferin' in a very delicate matter, and all that, but did I know who Cathcart was? Said he'd met him in Paris during the war, and he lived by cheatin' at cards--said he could swear to it, with details of a row there'd been in some French place or other. Said he knew I'd want to chew his head off--Freeborn's, I mean--for buttin' in, but he'd seen the man's photo in the paper, an' he thought I ought to know."

  The Coroner: "Did this letter surprise you?" Duke of D.: "Couldn't believe it at first. If it hadn't been old Tom Freeborn I'd have put the thing in the fire straight off, and, even as it was, I didn't quite know what to think. I mean, it wasn't as if it had happened in England, you know. I mean to say, Frenchmen get so excited about nothing. Only there was Freeborn, and he isn't the kind of man that makes mistakes."

  The Coroner: "What did you do?" Duke of D.: "Well, the more I looked at it the less I liked it, you know. Still, I couldn't quite leave it like that, so I thought the best way was to go straight to Cathcart. They'd all gone up while I was sittin' thinkin' about it, so I went up and knocked at Cathcart's door. He said, 'What's that?' or 'Who the devil's that?' or somethin' of the sort, and I went in. 'Look here,' I said, 'can I just have a word with you?' 'Well, cut it short, then,' he said. I was surprised--he wasn't usually rude. 'Well,' I said, 'fact is, I've had a letter I don't much like the look of, and I thought the best thing to do was to bring it straight away to you an' have the whole thing cleared up. It's from a man--a very decent sort--old college friend, who says he's met you in Paris.' 'Paris!' he said, in a most uncommonly unpleasant way. 'Paris! What the hell do you want to come talkin' to me about Paris for?' 'Well,' I said, 'don't talk like that, because it's misleadin' under the circumstances.' 'What are you drivin' at?' says Cathcart. 'Spit it out and go to bed, for God's sake.' I said, 'Right oh! I will. It's a man called Freeborn, who says he knew you in Paris and that you made money cheatin' at cards.' I thought he'd break out at that, but all he said was, 'What about it?' 'What about it?' I said. 'Well, of course, it's not the sort of thing I'm goin' to believe like that, right bang-slap off, without any proofs.' Then he said a funny thing. He said, 'Beliefs don't matter--it's what one knows about people.' 'Do you mean to say you don't deny it?' I said. 'It's no good my denying it,' he said; 'you must make up your own mind. Nobody could disprove it.' And then he suddenly jumped up, nearly knocking the table over, and sai
d, 'I don't care what you think or what you do, if you'll only get out. For God's sake leave me alone!' 'Look here,' I said, 'you needn't take it that way. I don't say I do believe it--in fact,' I said, 'I'm sure there must be some mistake; only, you bein' engaged to Mary,' I said, 'I couldn't just let it go at that without looking into it, could I?' 'Oh!' says Cathcart, 'if that's what's worrying you, it needn't. That's off.' I said, 'What?' He said, 'Our engagement.' 'Off?' I said. 'But I was talking to Mary about it only yesterday.' 'I haven't told her yet,' he said. 'Well,' I said, 'I think that's damned cool. Who the hell do you think you are, to come here and jilt my sister?' Well, I said quite a lot, first and last. 'You can get out,' I said; 'I've no use for swine like you.' 'I will,' he said, and he pushed past me an' slammed downstairs and out of the front door, an' banged it after him."

  The Coroner: "What did you do?" Duke of D.: "I ran into my bedroom, which has a window over the conservatory, and shouted out to him not to be a silly fool. It was pourin' with rain and beastly cold. He didn't come back, so I told Fleming to leave the conservatory door open--in case he thought better of it--and went to bed."

  The Coroner: "What explanation can you suggest for Cathcart's behaviour?"

  Duke of D.: "None. I was simply staggered. But I think he must somehow have got wind of the letter, and knew the game was up."

  The Coroner: "Did you mention the matter to anybody else?"

  Duke of D.: "No. It wasn't pleasant, and I thought I'd better leave it till the morning."

  The Coroner: "So you did nothing further in the matter?"

  Duke of D.: "No. I didn't want to go out huntin' for the fellow. I was too angry. Besides, I thought he'd change his mind before long--it was a brute of a night and he'd only a dinner-jacket."

  The Coroner: "Then you just went quietly to bed and never saw deceased again?"

  Duke of D.: "Not till I fell over him outside the conservatory at three in the morning."

  The Coroner: "Ah yes. Now can you tell us how you came to be out of doors at that time?"

  Duke of D. (hesitating): "I didn't sleep well. I went out for a stroll." The Coroner: "At three o'clock in the morning?"

  Duke of D.: "Yes." With sudden inspiration; "You see, my wife's away." (Laughter and some remarks from the back of the room.)

  The Coroner: "Silence, pleaseÖ. You mean to say that you got up at that hour of an October night to take a walk in the garden in the pouring rain?"

  Duke of D.: "Yes, just a stroll." (Laughter.)

  The Coroner: "At what time did you leave your bedroom?"

  Duke of D.: "Oh--oh, about half-past two, I should say."

  The Coroner: "Which way did you go out?"

  Duke of D.: "By the conservatory door."

  The Coroner: "The body was not there when you went out?"

  Duke of D.: "Oh, no!"

  The Coroner: "Or you would have seen it?"

  Duke of D.: "Lord, yes! I'd have had to walk over it."

  The Coroner: "Exactly where did you go?"

  Duke of D. (vaguely): "Oh, just round about."

  The Coroner: "You heard no shot?"

  Duke of D.: "No."

  The Coroner: "Did you go far away from the conservatory door and the shrubbery?"

  Duke of D.: "Well--I was some way away. Perhaps that's why I didn't hear anything. It must have been."

  The Coroner: "Were you as much as a quarter of a mile away?"

  Duke of D.: "I should think I was--oh, yes, quite!"

  The Coroner: "More than a quarter of a mile away?"

  Duke of D.: "Possibly. I walked about briskly because it was cold."

  The Coroner: "In which direction?"

  Duke of D. (with visible hesitation): "Round at the back of the house. Towards the bowling-green."

  The Coroner: "The bowling-green?" Duke of D. (more confidently): "Yes."

  The Coroner: "But if you were more than a quarter of a mile away, you must have left the grounds?"

  Duke of D.: "I--oh, yes--I think I did. Yes, I walked about on the moor a bit, you know."

  The Coroner: "Can you show us the letter you had from Mr. Freeborn?"

  Duke of D.: "Oh, certainly--if I can find it. I thought I put it in my pocket, but I couldn't find it for that Scotland Yard fellow."

  The Coroner: "Can you have accidentally destroyed it?"

  Duke of D.: "No--I'm sure I remember putting it---- Oh"--here the witness paused in very patent confusion, and grew red--"I remember now. I destroyed it."

  The Coroner: "That is unfortunate. How was that?"

  Duke of D.: "I had forgotten; it has come back to me now. I'm afraid it has gone for good."

  The Coroner: "Perhaps you kept the envelope?"

  Witness shook his head.

  The Coroner: "Then you can show the jury no proof of having received it?"

  Duke of D.: "Not unless Fleming remembers it."

  The Coroner: "Ah, yes! No doubt we can check it that way. Thank you, your grace. Call Lady Mary Wimsey." The noble lady, who was, until the tragic morning of October 14th, the fiancée of the deceased, aroused a murmur of sympathy on her appearance. Fair and slender, her naturally rose-pink cheeks ashy pale, she seemed overwhelmed with grief. She was dressed entirely in black, and gave her evidence in a very low tone which was at times almost inaudible. [From the newspaper reportónot Mr. Parker.]

  After expressing his sympathy, the Coroner asked, "How long had you been engaged to the deceased?"

  Witness: "About eight months."

  The Coroner: "Where did you first meet him?"

  Witness: "At my sister-in-law's house in London.''

  The Coroner: "When was that?"

  Witness: "I think it was June last year."

  The Coroner: "You were quite happy in your engagement?"

  Witness: "Quite."

  The Coroner: "You naturally saw a good deal of Captain Cathcart. Did he tell you much about his previous life?"

  Witness: "Not very much. We were not given to mutual confidences. We usually discussed subjects of common interest."

  The Coroner: "You had many such subjects?"

  Witness: "Oh, yes."

  The Coroner: "You never gathered at any time that Captain Cathcart had anything on his mind?"

  Witness: "Not particularly. He had seemed a little anxious the last few days."

  The Coroner: "Did he speak of his life in Paris?"

  Witness: "He spoke of theatres and amusements there. He knew Paris very well. I was staying in Paris with some friends last February, when he was there, and he took us about. That was shortly after our engagement."

  The Coroner: "Did he ever speak of playing cards in Paris?"

  Witness: "I don't remember."

  The Coroner: "With regard to your marriage--had any money settlements been gone into?"

  Witness: "I don't think so. The date of the marriage was not in any way fixed."

  The Coroner: "He always appeared to have plenty of money?"

  Witness: "I suppose so; I didn't think about it."

  The Coroner: "You never heard him complain of being hard up?"

  Witness: "Everybody complains of that, don't they?"

  The Coroner: "Was he a man of cheerful disposition?"

  Witness: "He was very moody, never the same two days together."

  The Coroner: "You have heard what your brother said about the deceased wishing to break off the engagement. Had you any idea of this?"

  Witness: "Not the slightest."

  The Coroner: "Can you think of any explanation now?"

  Witness:"Absolutely none."

  The Coroner: "There had been no quarrel?"

  Witness:"No."

  The Coroner: "So far as you knew, on the Wednesday evening, you were still engaged to deceased with every prospect of being married to him shortly?"

  Witness:"Ye-es. Yes, certainly, of course."

  The Coroner: "He was not--forgive me this very painful question--the sort of man who would have been likely to lay violent ha
nds on himself?"

  Witness:"Oh, I never thought--well, I don't know--I suppose he might have done. That would explain it, wouldn't it?"

  The Coroner: "Now, Lady Mary--please don't distress yourself, take your own time--will you tell us exactly what you heard and saw on Wednesday night and Thursday morning." Witness:"I went up to bed with Mrs. Marchbanks and Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson at about half-past nine, leaving all the men downstairs. I said good night to Denis, who seemed quite as usual. I was not downstairs when the post came. I went to my room at once. My room is at the back of the house. I heard Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson come up at about ten. The Pettigrew-Robinsons sleep next door to me. Some of the other men came up with him. I did not hear my brother come upstairs. At about a quarter past ten I heard two men talking loudly in the passage, and then I heard someone run downstairs and bang the front door. Afterwards I heard rapid steps in the passage, and finally I heard my brother shut his door. Then I went to bed."

  The Coroner: "You did not inquire the cause of the disturbance?"

  Witness (indifferently):"I thought it was probably something about the dogs."

  The Coroner: "What happened next?"

  Witness:"I woke up at three o'clock."

  The Coroner: "What wakened you?"

  Witness:"I heard a shot."

  The Coroner: "You were not awake before you heard it?"

  Witness:"I may have been partly awake. I heard it very distinctly. I was sure it was a shot. I listened for a few minutes, and then went down to see if anything was wrong."

  The Coroner: "Why did you not call your brother or some other gentleman?"

  Witness (scornfully):"Why should I? I thought it was probably only poachers, and I didn't want to make an unnecessary fuss at that unearthly hour."

  The Coroner: "Did the shot sound close to the house?"

  Witness:"Fairly, I think--it is hard to tell when one is wakened by a noise--it always sounds so extra loud."

  The Coroner: "It did not seem to be in the house or in the conservatory?"

  Witness:"No it was outside."

  The Coroner: "So you went downstairs by yourself. That was very plucky of you, Lady Mary. Did you go immediately?" Witness:"Not quite immediately. I thought it over for a few minutes; then I put on walking-shoes over bare feet, a heavy covert-coat, and a woolly cap. It may have been five minutes after hearing the shot that I left my bedroom. I went downstairs and through the billiard-room to the conservatory."