Ernest Hood achieved a certain firmness of tone as he replied,
“None whatever.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hugo Vane rose to cross-examine. It was said of him that he never looked so affable as when he had a difficult job in hand. He looked very affable now. Mr. Hood, using a discreet navy-and-white handkerchief which toned perfectly with a neat serge suit, was the recipient of a sunny smile.
“Now, Mr. Hood, let us see if we can’t get all this a little clearer. This interview of yours with Mrs. Maquisten—how long did it last?”
“About half an hour.”
“It didn’t take you all that time to write down the instructions for the new will, I take it. There was some conversation as well?”
“Oh, yes.”
“A good deal of conversation?”
“Well, yes.”
“A good deal of rather excited conversation?”
“On Mrs. Maquisten’s side.”
“Yes—you said she was excited. And angry?”
“Very angry—very much upset.”
“Well now, you have testified to some remarks about a rocket and a stick, following on a statement by Mrs. Maquisten to the effect that she had been deceived. At what period of the interview were these remarks made—at the beginning, in the middle, or towards the end?”
“Quite early on.”
“I see. And at what period of the interview was Mrs. Maquisten at her angriest and most excitable? Would that be when you first went in?”
“I suppose so.”
An expression of surprise passed over Hugo Vane’s ingenuous face.
“You suppose so, Mr. Hood? Is your memory as bad as all that? You surely do not wish us to infer that your recollection of this important interview is such a hazy one! I see that I shall have to refresh your memory. In your examination-in-chief you stated that you found Mrs. Maquisten very angry, very excitable—that she was in great anger about Mr. Aylwin being away, and that she was really quite abusive. You must surely be able to remember whether her anger and excitement increased or diminished from this point!”
“It increased while she was talking about being deceived. Afterwards, when I was taking her instructions, she was more under control.”
“Then it was immediately after the ‘great state of anger,’ when she was ‘really quite abusive,’ that with a further increase of excitement and anger she spoke of being deceived and made the remarks which you have quoted about the rocket and the stick?”
“Yes.”
“Before she began to give you any instructions about her will?”
“Yes.”
“She said she had been deceived—that Ellen Bridling had warned her, but she hadn’t taken any notice?”
“Yes.”
“She quoted a proverb about going up with a rocket and coming down with a stick?”
“Yes.”
“She asked you how you would like to be a rocket?”
A murmur of laughter went through the court. Mr. Hood’s handkerchief came out. He swallowed and said,
“Yes.”
“All these things were said whilst Mrs. Maquisten was still more excited, still more angry than she had been when you described her as being ‘in a great state of anger’ and ‘really quite abusive’?”
Mr. Hood passed the handkerchief over his forehead. He said,
“She was angry.”
“Come, Mr. Hood—you are not answering my question. Is this another case of faulty recollection? This is a very important interview, you know. I am afraid I must go on until we get the matter quite clear. Let me help that memory of yours. You have just stated on oath that the great state of anger and excitement in which you found Mrs. Maquisten when you described her as ‘really quite abusive’ had increased whilst she was talking about being deceived. You don’t wish to go back on that, do you?”
“No—of course not.”
“Then you agree that those remarks about being deceived, about Ellen Bridling’s warning about the rocket and the stick, the question to yourself as to how you would like to be a rocket, were all made, and the question put, during the time when Mrs. Maquisten was in a state of uncontrolled excitement and anger?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Dear me, Mr. Hood—that memory of yours! I am afraid I must quote your own words to you again. After telling us that Mrs. Maquisten’s excitement increased whilst she was talking about being deceived, you said, ‘Afterwards, when I was taking her instructions, she was more under control.’ If words have any meaning at all, those words imply a previous lack of control. I suppose you will agree to that? Yes or no, please.”
Looking very unhappy, Mr. Hood said, “Yes.”
“Well then, perhaps you will now answer my previous question. Do you agree that those remarks about being deceived, about Ellen Bridling’s warning, about the rocket and the stick, the question to yourself as to how you would like to be a rocket, were all made, and the question put, during the time when Mrs. Maquisten was in a state of uncontrolled excitement and anger?”
Mr. Hood, looking still more unhappy, swallowed and said,
“Yes.”
Hugo Vane gave him a buoyant smile.
“There! Now we’ve got that cleared up—Mrs. Maquisten was in a state of uncontrollable excitement when she made those remarks. One would almost have guessed as much, because they are really very disjointed, are they not? That asking you how you would like to be a rocket, for instance. It is all much easier to understand now that you have told us of the state Mrs, Maquisten was in—isn’t it, Mr. Hood?”
“Yes.”
“In a state of excitement such as you have described, remarks are apt to be disconnected?”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Maquisten’s remarks on this occasion were disconnected?”
“Some of them.”
“I put it to you, Mr. Hood, that these remarks about being deceived, about having been warned, about rockets and strangers, did not come out all in one piece.”
“No.”
“They came out in bits and pieces, spoken under great excitement? Yes or no, Mr. Hood.”
Mr. Hood swallowed again and said, “Yes.”
“Now, Mr. Hood, I want you to understand that I am not impugning your good faith in any way—I wouldn’t do that for the world—but when Mrs. Maquisten in her state of excitement made this disjointed remark about someone having been a stranger for a week, you assumed that she was referring to Miss Silence, did you not?”
“Yes, I did.”
“But then you have rather a literal mind, haven’t you? The language of metaphor does not really appeal to you, does it? I suppose you know what a metaphor is?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Will you tell us what you understand by that term.”
Mr. Hood’s brow became furrowed. A light perspiration broke upon it. “Everyone knows what it means. I don’t know that I can put it into words.”
“Perhaps I can help you. The dictionary defines it as ‘the application of a name or descriptive term to an object to which it is not literally applicable.’ Thus, in her use of the word stranger, is it not perfectly possible that Mrs. Maquisten may have-intended not the literal meaning of a person previously unknown to her, but the very common metaphorical meaning of a person from whom she was estranged? That is quite possible, is it not?”
“Yes—it’s possible.” Mr. Hood’s voice dwelt gloomily on the last word.
“In this sense, the words ‘a stranger for a week’ could easily signify an estrangement during that period from any of the legatees?”
“I suppose so.”
“Mrs. Maquisten was already employing the language of metaphor when she spoke of going up with the rocket and coming down with the stick, was she not?”
“Oh, yes.” Mr. Hood’s tone was one of relief.
“And when she asked you how you would like to be a rocket—you did not understand her to be speaking literally the
n?”
“Of course not.”
Hugo Vane repeated the words with cheerful zest.
“Of course not! She was using the language of metaphor. Let us take another of these disjointed sentences—‘An heiress for a week, and then a stranger again.’ Are you quite sure that the word was heiress, not heir?”
“Yes, I am quite sure.”
“The will executed a week before November 16th contained the names of three female beneficiaries, each of whom might properly be described as an heiress, might she not?”
“I suppose so.”
“Each one of the three could, then, have been alluded to by Mrs. Maquisten as ‘an heiress for a week’?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come, come, Mr. Hood—you are not doing yourself justice. I will try to put my question more simply. If the will executed a week before constituted each of these ladies an heiress, then any one of the three might have been described by Mrs. Maquisten as an heiress for a week. That is so, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“And to conclude our clearing up. The final remark, ‘and then a stranger again,’ could certainly apply to a more permanent estrangement than the one already alluded to as having lasted for a week?”
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Oh, no—you had already made up your mind that Miss Silence was referred to, had you not?”
“Yes, I had.”
“You had made up your mind that it was Miss Silence who was to be cut out of the will. So that until this moment it hadn’t occurred to you that Mrs. Maquisten’s words might have quite a different meaning, had it?”
“No.”
“It is curious how a preconceived idea will prevent one from seeing anything else. Perhaps it would be helpful to discover how you came by this idea. Did it, for instance, occur to you when Miss Silence was ringing you up?”
“It may have passed through my mind.”
“Ah—it may have passed through your mind. Not quite an accurate description, I fear, because, unfortunately, it appears to have remained there. Did it not occur to you at the time, and has it not occurred to you since, that Mrs. Maquisten would not have employed Miss Silence to ring up her solicitor and empowered her to transmit a number of highly confidential messages if they had not been on good terms?”
“No.”
“Well, Mr. Hood, I think I needn’t keep you much longer. I have just one more question, and there is nothing at all difficult about it.” He bent an encouraging smile upon the witness-box. “During the whole of the interview that you had with her on the afternoon of Monday, November 16th, did Mrs. Maquisten at any time mention the name of Miss Carey Silence?”
Mr. Hood cleared his throat for the last time and said,
“No.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The court adjourned for lunch. When it reassembled Nora Hull was called. Carey watched her come up into the witness-box, and thought how pretty she looked, and more like a kitten than ever in a grey fur coat and a little fur cap on her red-brown hair, her eyes very round and bright. She took the oath, and as she lifted her head after kissing the book she looked across the court, met Carey’s eyes, and smiled at her. It was a very warm, spontaneous, and heartening thing.
Mr. Lanthony, junior for the Crown, took her through the scene on the afternoon of November the 9th, a week before Honoria Maquisten’s death, when she announced to the assembled family that she had added the name of Carey Silence to the beneficiaries under her will. Nora came through it trippingly, giving her answers in a pretty, clear voice with every word plainly audible.
“Will you tell us who was present, Mrs. Hull.”
“Mr. Aylwin, my cousins Robert Maquisten, Dennis Harland, Honor King, Carey Silence, myself. And Magda Brayle.”
“Mrs. Maquisten presented Miss Silence to you and your cousins as a co-beneficiary?”
“Yes.”
“Was that all she said on this occasion?”
“Oh, no—she asked each of us separately whether we had any objection, or doubt about her being of a sound mind, because if we had, she would rather we said it straight out in front of Mr. Aylwin.”
“And had anyone anything to say?”
Nora’s smile flashed out.
“We certainly had not.”
“Did the announcement surprise you?”
“Oh dear, no. We all knew that my aunt was very fond of Carey.”
“On such a short acquaintance? It was only a week, wasn’t it?”
Nora lifted her very pretty chin and said with emphasis,
“She was very fond of her.”
“Now, Mrs. Hull, to come down to the events of November 16th. What time did you get home that afternoon?”
“I got in at half past four.”
“Will you tell us what happened.”
“Molly told me that my aunt wanted to see me as soon as I came in. I said I’d rushed in for a cup of tea and would have to go out again—and she said she had just taken tea up and there was a second cup on the tray, so I went up to my aunt’s room.”
“How did you find her?”
“Very angry.”
“With whom?”
The smile came out again.
“Oh, with all of us—for not being there when we were wanted. She wanted someone to rage at, and there wasn’t anybody there.”
“Did she speak of no other cause for her anger?”
“Oh, yes. She said someone had been deceiving her, but I really didn’t take a lot of notice.”
“Did she tell you she was going to alter her will?”
“Oh, yes. But she was always doing that—we really didn’t take any notice of it.”
“When you say we, do you mean yourself and the cousins who were accustomed to Mrs. Maquisten’s ways?”
“I mean all of us—Carey as well. We all knew that Aunt Honoria always altered her will if anything put her out.”
“You mean that Miss Silence knew of this idiosyncrasy because she had been told about it. She could not know about it by experience—could she?”
The clear, pretty voice was very clear indeed as Nora said,
“She knew about it.”
“By hearsay only?”
“It was a regular family joke.”
For the first time the voice faltered, because the joke had turned to tragedy and brought them here. Whatever happened, nothing would ever be the same again.
“How long were you with Mrs. Maquisten?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“Did you have tea with her?”
“Oh, yes. I got her soothed down a bit, and I had a cup and she had a cup, and then I had to rush.”
“Did she say anything more about being deceived?”
“No. I got her fairly soothed, and I think she wanted her tea.”
She was taken through her movements from eight o’clock, when she re-entered the house.
“You dined with your cousins?”
“Yes, with Dennis, Honor, and Carey.”
“Was Mrs. Maquisten’s intention to alter her will discussed among you?”
“Of course it was.”
“Were you asked whether Mrs. Maquisten had told you who had deceived her?”
“Oh, yes. We all said she hadn’t.”
“The question was generally discussed?”
“Oh, yes. She hadn’t told any of us.”
“No one admitted to having been told—that is what you mean, isn’t it?”
“I mean she hadn’t told anyone.”
“Mrs. Hull, if you think, you will see that you can only answer for yourself. So far as the others are concerned, all you can say is that no one admitted to knowing who it was that was to be cut out of Mrs. Maquisten’s will. That is so, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“No one did admit to this knowledge?”
“No.”
“After dinner did you all go to Mrs. Maquisten’s room for coffee?”
&nbs
p; “Yes.”
“Will you describe the order in which you went.”
“My cousin Honor King and I went up first because we were going to change. Carey came up after us. Honor and I were talking until she went down. Our rooms are next door to each other. She was ready first. By the time I got down the other three were there.”
A giddy feeling came over Carey. Her mind swung back. The scene opened before her, small and bright like a picture seen in a camera—Cousin Honoria’s room—the coffee-table set—Ellen grumbling and talking about hop pillows—and Carey Silence in a blue dress getting up and going through to the bathroom to get a sleeping-draught. Step by step, as Nora’s voice went on, she saw it all happen again. She was coming back from the bathroom with the glass in her hand, and it was more than half full. She saw herself take it over to Honor at the coffee-table. She saw the milk, the coffee, the two lumps of sugar go in, leaving about a third of an inch of space at the top of the glass. She saw herself go back to Cousin Honoria and fetch the brandy flask from beside the bed. The mingled smell of coffee and cognac came up to her again on the heated air of the room. She saw Honoria Maquisten put the glass to her lips and drink. She heard her say, “And now I’ll have a decent cup of coffee.”
All their faces very bright, clear, and alive. Cousin Honoria alive—enjoying her coffee, enjoying keeping them guessing. The fire burning with a clear, hot flame. The smell of the brandy coming up on the heated air.
It was very hot. There was a dampness breaking out on her palms, on her temples. The air in the court thickened and swirled about her, it filled with little bright sparks. Nora’s voice receded. She thought, “If I faint, it will be as bad as a confession. If I faint now, they’re bound to think I did it. I mustn’t—I mustn’t, mustn’t, mustn’t.” She drove her nails hard into her sweating palms. She fought the faintness back with all the strength she had. Gradually the air cleared, the mist was gone, the voices had come back out of the distance again.
Hugo Vane was cross-examining Nora.
“Will you take your mind back to the afternoon of November 9th—the occasion when Mrs. Maquisten announced her intention to benefit Miss Silence. You said the announcement did not surprise you.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Because of Mrs. Maquisten’s affection for Miss Silence?”
Silence in Court Page 14
