Silence in Court

by Patricia Wentworth

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Hugo Vane rose to cross-examine. He was for once without his customary air of buoyant good humour. He still looked like a schoolboy, but a schoolboy whose spirits were subdued in the presence of grief.

  “There are just a few questions I would like to ask you, Mrs. Bridling. Let us begin with the Sunday afternoon—Sunday, November 15th the day before Mrs. Maquisten’s death, when you opened the safe and showed Miss Silence the rubies.”

  Quite slowly Ellen was wiping away the tears that had trickled down. Her hand shook a little and her eyes were red. She kept the handkerchief in her hand and turned her head towards Hugo Vane. He said,

  “Mrs. Maquisten told Miss Silence in your presence that she intended to leave her the rubies?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did Miss Silence say? I don’t think you told us that.”

  Ellen primmed her lips.

  “She said, ‘Oh, no!’ and Mrs. Maquisten said ‘Oh, yes, my dear.’ And I took and spoke my mind and said it was Mr. Robert Maquisten they ought to be left to, or Miss Honor. And Miss Silence, she said, ‘Please, Cousin Honoria—’ as if she didn’t know that was just the way to make her all the more set in what she’d planned to do.”

  “I see. How long had Miss Silence known Mrs. Maquisten? How long had she been in the house?”

  “No more than a fortnight.”

  “You had been with Mrs. Maquisten for thirty-five years?”

  Ellen put the handkerchief to her eyes again.

  “Thirty-six this month, if she’d been spared.”

  “You would naturally know a great deal more about her than Miss Silence would?”

  “I’d know what she liked.”

  “And you would know that it made her more set in her ways if she was opposed or contradicted?”

  “Everyone knew that.”

  “But Miss Silence had only been a fortnight in the house—she wouldn’t know Mrs. Maquisten’s ways as well as you did?”

  “It’s not for me to say what she knew.”

  “You didn’t like Miss Silence very much, did you?”

  The eyelids rose. Out of the red-rimmed eyes there looked for a moment so sheer a gleam of hatred that it took even Hugo Vane aback. His way of showing this was to resume his smile as Ellen said loudly and distinctly,

  “What call had I got to like her?”

  “I am afraid it is you who have to answer the question, Mrs. Bridling, and I am afraid I must ask you to be a little more particular. You didn’t like Miss Silence, did you?”

  “I hadn’t any call to like her.”

  “Well then, perhaps you can tell us a little more about this dislike of yours. When did it begin?”

  “So soon as I saw what she was like.”

  “Do you mean as soon as she came into the house?”

  “It didn’t take me long.”

  “Or do you mean as soon as you saw that Mrs. Maquisten was going to be fond of her?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t like Mrs. Maquisten being fond of her, did you?”

  The lids rose again. He received a full malignant stare.

  “And what call had I got to like it? Look what come of it, and tell me that!”

  The judge leaned forward.

  “That is a very improper remark. You will confine yourself to answering questions put to you by learned counsel.”

  Ellen looked back at him, as who should say, “I know my place.” In a respectful voice she said, “Yes, my lord,” and turned to face Hugo Vane.

  “I should like an answer to my question, Mrs. Bridling. Did you not begin to dislike Miss Silence as soon as you saw that Mrs. Maquisten was going to be fond of her? Yes or no, please.”

  “Yes.” The word came out with a certain defiant firmness.

  “And the more fond of her Mrs. Maquisten became, the more you disliked her?”

  “I didn’t want Mrs. Maquisten to be imposed upon.”

  “You mean, don’t you, that you didn’t want Mrs. Maquisten to be fond of Miss Silence? Yes or no.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “I think you mentioned in your evidence that you had warned Mrs. Maquisten against someone. Was it against Miss Silence?”

  “Yes, it was, and if she’d taken my warning—”

  “That will do, Mrs. Bridling. When did you begin to warn Mrs. Maquisten?”

  “Just so soon as I saw what Miss Silence was up to.”

  “You mean just as soon as you saw that she was getting to be on affectionate terms with Mrs. Maquisten, don’t you? I think that is what you mean, but I would like to hear you say so. It was when you noticed the affection between them that you began your warnings, wasn’t it? Or was it even earlier than that?”

  “It didn’t take me no time to see through her.”

  “Mrs. Maquisten became very fond of Miss Silence in a very short time, didn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you began your warnings just as soon as you noticed the first beginnings of this fondness. Is that what you mean?”

  “You can put it that way.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t do for an answer. It is not a case of how I would put it, or how you would put it. What I want is the truth. Did you, or did you not begin to warn Mrs. Maquisten against Miss Silence as soon as you saw that they were getting fond of one another?”

  Ellen’s hands tightened on the handkerchief. Her head jerked. She said with a sudden anger in her voice,

  “Well then, I did! And she thanked me for it come the last!”

  Hugo Vane beamed upon her.

  “You lost no opportunity of trying to set Mrs. Maquisten against the young cousin of whom she was becoming so fond?”

  “I kept on warning her.”

  “You really had it quite on your mind, didn’t you? I daresay you thought about it a lot?”

  “I couldn’t help but think about it.”

  “Perhaps it even kept you awake at night?”

  “Many’s the time.”

  “In fact you thought about it constantly?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  His smile became a sympathetic one.

  “It must have been very trying for you to find that Mrs. Maquisten took no notice of your warnings—that in spite of them she had made a will leaving a large sum of money to Miss Silence? I suppose you knew about that?”

  “It wasn’t no secret. Everyone in the house knew about it.”

  “Very trying for you? And very trying for you to get out the rubies and see Miss Silence put them on? And all the time Mrs. Maquisten getting fonder and fonder of her cousin and not taking any notice of your warnings? You must have had them constantly on your mind?”

  “I did my best, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “And you went on thinking about how much you disliked Miss Silence, and how much you hoped Mrs. Maquisten would stop being fond of her?”

  “I hoped she’d find her out.”

  “Exactly! So that when you went in to Mrs. Maquisten at seven o’clock on the evening of November 16th and found her crying and saying she had been deceived, you never doubted for a moment that what you hoped for had come to pass, and that it was Miss Silence whom she thought had deceived her?”

  “It was Miss Silence she meant.”

  “Did she say her name?”

  “She didn’t need to. I knew who she meant.”

  “Well, you thought you knew—didn’t you? But then you had been thinking very constantly about Miss Silence—you had quite got her on your mind? You agreed with me just now about that?”

  “I knew what I knew.”

  Hugo Vane assumed his sunniest expression.

  “Mrs. Bridling, do you know what is meant by ‘wishful thinking’?”

  Ellen peered suspiciously.

  “It’s one of those newspaper words.”

  A faint ripple of laughter went round the court, hushed instantly under the judge’s frown.

&nbs
p; Hugo Vane said, “Quite so,” in an encouraging voice. And then, “Do you know what it means?”

  “I never troubled myself.”

  “Well, in practice we all indulge in it sometimes, I’m afraid. It means thinking about something and wishing for it until you really believe that it is happening or going to happen. I suggest to you that you were indulging in wishful thinking when you identified Miss Silence with the person by whom Mrs. Maquisten said she had been deceived.”

  “I didn’t think nothing about it. I knew that it was Miss Silence.”

  With a beaming smile Hugo Vane struck back.

  “Exactly! Without stopping to think you assumed that Miss Silence was meant. That is the plain meaning of your words, isn’t it? You didn’t stop to think, did you? You had your preconceived idea, and that was enough for you. You didn’t think, did you?”

  “I didn’t have to.”

  “Neither then nor at any other time during that interview? You didn’t have to think?”

  He turned for a moment and directed a glance of bright good-fellowship towards the jury.

  At Ellen’s defiant, “No, I didn’t!” he turned back again, shaking his head.

  “You didn’t think at all? Because you had already made up your mind?”

  “Yes, I had.”

  “So that whatever Mrs. Maquisten said or didn’t say really made no difference, because just as soon as you heard her say that somebody had deceived her you were quite sure it was Miss Silence?”

  “I knew it was Miss Silence.”

  “Without thinking about it at all?”

  “Yes.”

  Once more the bright, good humoured look travelled across the jury box. Once more he turned back with that slight shake of the head.

  “Just one more question, Mrs. Bridling. Miss Silence’s name was never mentioned at all—neither by you nor by Mrs. Maquisten?”

  “There wasn’t any need.”

  “That’s not what I asked you. You will answer my question, if you please. Did Mrs. Maquisten mention Miss Carey Silence at all during that interview?”

  “No.”

  “Her name wasn’t mentioned at all, either by Mrs. Maquisten or by you?”

  “Not her name.”

  “Throughout the entire interview the name was never mentioned?”

  “No.” The word came slow and reluctant from thin, sour lips.

  “Now, Mrs. Bridling, we know that you have been a long time with Mrs. Maquisten—nearly thirty-six years. That is a long time. You were doubtless much attached to her. You had her interests very much at heart?”

  “I done what I could.”

  “To protect those interests—that is what you mean?”

  She looked at him before she said, “Yes.”

  “You were on the look-out to protect her from being imposed upon?”

  The look became a stare.

  “She was very good-hearted. There was always some that was ready to take advantage.”

  “And you made it your business to protect her from those people?”

  “I did my best.”

  “You made it your business to warn her against such people?”

  The stare became defiant.

  “There wasn’t anything wrong about that!”

  “Oh dear no—I’m not suggesting it—not for a moment. You warned her on a good many occasions, didn’t you?”

  “When I thought she was going to be imposed upon.”

  “And against a good many different people?”

  “If I thought they were trying to impose upon her.”

  “Quite so. How many people did you warn her against during the last year of her life, do you suppose?”

  Ellen looked down at her hands and the clean linen handkerchief.

  “I couldn’t say, I’m sure.”

  “Let me see if I can help you. You say that people were always trying to impose on Mrs. Maquisten. Would you say that more than three or four people had tried to do this in the course of that last year?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  He gave her a good-humoured smile.

  “Come, Mrs. Bridling, I don’t think you’re trying. Perhaps I have put the number too low. Would it have been as many as five or six?”

  “It might have been.”

  “Would it have been more than that?”

  “I didn’t keep count.”

  “But it might have been as many as seven, or eight, or nine?”

  “I can’t say.”

  His smile broadened.

  “Well, I won’t press you. But you will agree that there were a good many occasions during that last year of her life when various people made what you considered attempts to impose on Mrs. Maquisten, and when you thought it was your duty to warn her?”

  “Yes. I never done anything but what I considered was my duty. I’d been with her a long time.”

  “So that when Miss Silence came along she was just one more person who was trying to impose, and against whom you considered it was your duty to warn Mrs. Maquisten?”

  “Yes.”

  “So when you went in to Mrs. Maquisten on the evening of November 16th and she said you had warned her but she wouldn’t listen, there were at least eight or nine people she might have meant?”

  “She meant Miss Silence.”

  “Yes—that is what you thought. Miss Silence was very much on your mind just then—you have already admitted that. But actually there were a number of other people against whom you had warned Mrs. Maquisten—you admitted that too, you know—and whilst you jumped to the conclusion that Miss Silence was meant, Mrs. Maquisten might have been referring to somebody else. That is so, is it not?”

  “It was Miss Silence she meant.”

  “I don’t doubt that you thought so, Mrs. Bridling. But you have already said that no name was ever mentioned between you. I put it to you that since no name was mentioned, you and Mrs. Maquisten may very easily have been at cross purposes—she meaning one person, and you taking her to mean another.”

  “I knew who she meant.”

  “You mean that that is your opinion?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have very strong opinions?”

  “I know what I know.”

  “It would never enter your head that you could be mistaken?”

  “No, it wouldn’t.”

  “Not even when a fellow creature’s life is at stake?”

  “That’s not my business.”

  “No—that’s quite right. It is only your business to be sure that you are keeping to the facts. An opinion is not a fact, is it? Is it, Mrs. Bridling?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Well, I won’t press you. But one of the facts in this case is your dislike for Miss Silence—isn’t it? You have admitted to this dislike—haven’t you?”

  Ellen lifted her yellow lids and looked across the court at Carey Silence, her head poked forward, her eyes slitted and rimmed with red. The spark which looked out of them was cold and deadly. The word which Hugo Vane had used seemed suddenly an empty trifle.

  Carey looked back because she would not look away, and all at once it came to her that she was safe. Ellen hated her, but she didn’t hate Ellen. She knew of no reason why Ellen should hate her. It was something beyond reason. She felt a horrified recoil and pity. She looked gravely back, and heard Hugo Vane repeat his question.

  “You have admitted that you disliked Miss Silence?”

  Ellen turned back to him. “I’ve no call to like her.”

  The court rose for lunch.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Hugo Vane resumed his cross-examination after lunch. Ellen was questioned minutely as to her comings and goings between the bedroom and the bathroom. Question and answer followed one another like the ball across a tennis net. Carey, watching and listening, sometimes felt as if it was all a game. It didn’t seem possible that her life might depend upon just what question was put, what answer was given. Ellen didn�
��t look at her again. She stood there in her decorous old-fashioned black and gave her answers deliberately in a harsh, unmodulated voice.

  For all his pressing Hugo Vane now gained little or nothing for the defence. She swore, and continued to swear, that the medicine-glass had been less than half full when she saw it last, and she put her last sight of it at twenty past eight, fixing the time by the fact that Mrs. Maquisten’s tray had just come up. Less than half an hour later, when Carey Silence brought that glass through from the bathroom, three people had testified that it was three-quarters full. And during that half hour who was there to have access to the bathroom and time and opportunity to dissolve the additional tabloids and add them to the mixture? Ellen declared that she had not left Mrs. Maquisten alone during the whole of that time except to step into the bathroom—when in the end she did leave her it was with Carey Silence. She swore positively that quite five minutes had gone by before Honor King joined them. It was impossible to shake her on any of these points.

  With imperturbable good temper Hugo Vane shifted his ground.

  “Mrs. Maquisten was not alone from the time you went to her just after eight o’clock until she took the sleeping-draught?”

  “No, she wasn’t.”

  “But she was quite alone between half past seven when you looked in to say you were going upstairs to Miss King until your return at five minutes past eight?”

  “So far as I know.”

  “You told my learned friend that Mrs. Maquisten could get out of bed if she wanted to?”

  “Yes.”

  “And walk?”

  “Yes.”

  “She could have walked into the bathroom?”

  “If she wanted to.”

  “Nurse Brayle told us that the bottle of tabloids was in a glass-fronted cupboard immediately over the wash-basin. The shelf with the medicine-glass was between this cupboard and the basin?”