With whom were these disagreements, Mr Harrison?
Perhaps, Mr Coroner, ‘disagreements’ was too strong a word, and really, you know, I cannot see that mere family breezes, shall I say, can have—
Mr Harrison! What you can or cannot see is no doubt interesting. The Court, however, merely wishes for facts. With whom, to your knowledge, did Mr Brunton, upon the day preceding the morning of his death, have these disagreements?
There was one small disagreement, Mr Coroner, with Mrs Brunton, and another with Mr Adrian Brunton.
When did the disagreement with Mrs Brunton take place?
It was hardly a disagreement—I beg your pardon, Mr Coroner—I will confine myself to facts. At about eleven o’clock in the morning Mrs Brunton—a most unusual thing for her—came to the study. She stated that she wished to speak to Mr Brunton privately, and of course I immediately left the room. As I did so Mr Brunton called after me, ‘We must get that McGuinness affair settled, Harrison. Come back in ten minutes.’ I returned after ten minutes. Mrs Brunton, as I got to the door, was just coming out of it. I noticed that she had—that she had been shedding a few tears. Mr Brunton was walking up and down with his hands behind his back. He was—a trick of his when disturbed—muttering indistinguishably to himself. However, immediately he caught sight of me he became his old self, and we proceeded with our work.
That was the first little affair. The second—Mr Adrian Brunton’s—took place in the afternoon. I had been out for my constitutional, and I came back as usual about three-thirty. I had understood that Mr Brunton was not to be at home that afternoon, and naturally I went, after I had put up my hat and stick, straight to the study. As I drew near the door I became aware that Mr Brunton had not gone out after all. I heard his voice raised, apparently in anger. I hesitated a moment, not quite knowing whether I should go forward or tactfully retire. As I was, in fact, retiring, I heard another voice which I knew for Mr Adrian Brunton’s. That, too, was raised. It was even louder than Mr Brunton’s. It was uttering violent remarks of some description. Of course, I beat a very hasty retreat in order that I should not even inadvertently overhear anything not intended for my ears.
I see. Then you can give the Court no idea, Mr Harrison, of what either of the disputants were saying?
No idea whatever, Mr Coroner. As I came to the door and heard Mr Maxwell Brunton speaking, I did catch the words ‘not if you and your mother and that little—er, ahem!—bitch came to me on your bended knees,’ and then, as I was hastily retiring, I caught one or two words of Mr Adrian Brunton. He seemed to be—he is, I fear, as excitable or even more so than his father—using many violent epithets. The only remark of his which I clearly caught—you must remember, sir, that I was endeavouring not to hear, rather than to hear—the only remark which I clearly caught was something like ‘Bloody nice sort of father! You can have all your little bits, but when it comes to your son wanting to settle down …’ After that, Mr Coroner, I heard nothing. I was, you must understand—
Yes. Yes. Quite! You’re sure of these speeches, Mr Harrison?
Certainly, sir. I never say anything of which I am not sure.
I see. I asked you because they seemed rather lengthy to have been heard during this very brief sojourn of yours outside the study door. Nevertheless, I take it that you would swear to them?
Most emphatically, sir—and I must say that I fail to—
Shall we leave it at that, Mr Harrison? I would now like to ask you whether such family disturbances were usual in the Brunton household?
I find that a very difficult question to answer, sir. You must understand that not being a member of the family and being one who makes a point of never, shall we say, prying into other people’s affairs, and especially his employer’s—
I was asking you, Mr Harrison, whether such quarrels were usual in the Brunton household, to your knowledge.
So far as I am concerned, Mr Coroner, they were neither more usual nor more unusual than in any other household with which I have ever been associated. Mr Adrian Brunton, of course, has inherited his father’s volatile temperament, and they certainly were quite frequently at loggerheads about this and that. Mrs Brunton and Mr Maxwell Brunton were, however, an ideal pair. I think this occasion was the only one upon which I have noticed that there had been even any slight trouble between them. Mr Brunton, of course, was a man of very great energy, both mentally and physically, and he was always so busy with both his City work and his writing work and his numerous—er—hobbies, that he really seemed to see very little of Mrs Brunton, but I must say, however, that his manner toward her always showed respect and affection.
Very well. Gentlemen, if you have no further questions to ask this witness at the present stage …? Personally, I recommend that we should proceed to take the evidence of the other witnesses. Mr Harrison will be available if we need him later. Is that agreed? … Thank you, Mr Harrison. You may stand down. We may want you later.
Call Arthur Waterloo Jennings.
V
ARTHUR WATERLOO JENNINGS, BUTLER AND PARLOURMAN TO MAXWELL BRUNTON, DECEASED
WHAT is your full name?
Arthur Waterloo Jennings.
Please keep silence in the Court! … Now, Jennings, will you please take the oath.
With all me ’eart, sir! I swear by Almighty God that what I shall say in this Court—
One moment, Jennings, one moment! Will you please hold the Book? … Give him the Book.
Sorry, sir! Sorry, I’m sure! … I swear by Almighty God that what I shall say in evidence in this Court shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
You were, I believe, butler and parlourman to Mr Maxwell Brunton, deceased?
Yes, sir.
And how long, Jennings, have you been in service at 44 Rajah Gardens?
Two years, sir, and six months.
At what time, Jennings, did you see your master for the last time alive?
Can’t swear exactly to the minute, sir, but somewhere around 9 p.m.
Where was this?
At dinner, sir. After I brought in the port for the master and the other two gentlemen he said, as he always said: ‘There’s nothing more, Jennings!’ and I says: ‘Thank you, sir.’ And that was the last time I ever saw ’im alive, sir.
Now, Jennings, you have heard the evidence of the previous witnesses, particularly that of Mr Harrison?
Yes, sir.
Do you agree with Mr Harrison’s statement as regards the sequence of events, so far as you know them?
Yes, sir.
Will you please tell the Court, then, as briefly as you can, what happened after Mr Harrison waked you up at approximately half-past two.
Mr ’Arrison, sir, ’e come up and shook me awake like—well, really it was the missus what woke me, ’cause she woke first, an’ she sez: ‘Jennings! ’Ere’s Mr ’Arrison and oh, Gawd, wot’s ’appened?’ an’ I gets up and I sees it’s Mr ’Arrison and Mr ’Arrison ’e sez to me ’e sez: ‘Your master’s been killed,’ and I sez, ‘Wot?’ and he sez, ‘Your master’s been killed,’ and I sez, ‘Oh, my Gawd!’ …
An’ then Mr ’Arrison ’e sez for me to go and fetch a roz—policeman, sir, because ’e thinks there’s been foul play. So I quiets the missus down, slips on my dressing-gown and runs out and finds the sergeant what give evidence just now, sir, at the corner of the Square and brings ’im in. After that, sir, it’s just the same as what the sergeant ’imself and Mr ’Arrison ’ave told you. What I mean is, sir, that so far as I knows, it’s the same. That’s to say, sir, what I mean: when they give evidence about what I knows ’appened, me bein’ there, they was right. About the other, what ’appened when I wasn’t there, o’ course I can’t say like.
I see. So you corroborate the previous evidence so far as the incidents related had come into your knowledge?
That’s right, sir. That’s what I said.
Now, Jennings, I’m going to put a few questions to you, and I would like to mak
e it clear to you first that it is your duty to give truthful answers to these questions—being as brief as you can—and not to allow any outside consideration whatsoever to influence you in those answers. Do you follow me?
Puffectly, sir.
Very well, then. I want to ask you first, Jennings, whether it came to your knowledge in any way that Mr Maxwell Brunton had quarrelled, on the day preceding the morning of his death, with any other member of the family?
No, sir.
You’re sure, Jennings?
… Yes, sir.
You hesitated. Why?
Did I ’esitate, sir? I’m sure I never noticed meself.
So you were not aware at all that there had been any, shall we say, disagreements between your master and any other member of the household?
No, sir. Leastways, not if you don’t count Syd—Mr ’Arrison, sir.
Oh! So there was a disagreement, was there, between Mr Brunton and Mr Harrison?
Couldn’t say whether it was what you’d call a disagreement exactly like, sir, but I must say as I did notice that the master ’ad slipped Mr ’Arrison a ras—’ad told Mr ’Arrison off a bit, sir.
How was this, Jennings?
Well, it was like this. Miss Claire—that’s Mrs Bayford, sir; I’m afraid we all call ’er Miss Claire, I suppose it’s along of the mistress not seeming to be able to remember that Miss Claire’s married—Miss Claire, she sez to me in the afternoon when I went into the libery to see if the cigarette boxes was all right, did I know whether the master was in and was he up in the study? I said yes, the master was up in the study, and she said, ‘Thank you, Jennings, I think I’ll go up and see him.’ And with that, sir, she went out of the room.
What time was this, Jennings?
Now, let me see, sir. It wouldn’t be so late as five, and it wouldn’t be so early as four. I should say, sir, it would be about ’arf-past four. Anyways, about twenty minutes after this, sir, I was passing through the ’all and I sees Mr Adrian, and he calls out to me, ‘Jennings, slip up and get me my cigar case from my room, will you? I’ll be in the libery.’ So I slips up, sir, and walks along to Mr Adrian’s room and gets ’is case. As I’m coming out, sir, I sees Mr ’Arrison enterin’ the study. As ’e opens the door I ’ears Miss Claire’s voice, sir. Then as I’m walking along the passage I ’ears a sort of roar from the master. A bit startled like, I turns round and I sees Mr ’Arrison coming out of that room a lot quicker than ’e went in. I didn’t take no notice, sir, it not bein’ my place, an’ I walks downstairs, sir, I dessay grinnin’ a bit to meself. I gives Mr Adrian his cigar case and goes about the ’ouse on my work. I suppose that, sir, if you want the time, would be about quarter to five. Anyways, I didn’t go upstairs again until about a quarter after five, and then it’s to go and ask the master, as it was part of my duty to do, whether he’d like anythink in the way of refreshment brought up to the study, as ’e ’adn’t been down to tea in the drawin’-room. Just as I gets to the landing, Mr ’Arrison comes by me and walks along to the study. I follows ’im. Before ’e gets to the study door it opens and out comes Miss Claire. Mr ’Arrison, ’e stops and says something to ’er, but she doesn’t seem to take no notice but comes right straight on. Mr ’Arrison, ’e goes on too, the other way, into the study. I passes Miss Claire, sir. The study door’s shut and I ’ears the master goin’ for Mr ’Arrison proper. I’d ’alf expected it was because of Miss Claire. What I mean, sir, I guessed the master was in a bad temper. Well, sir, I goes into the study—
One moment, Jennings. What was it about Mrs Bayford that made you suspect that your master was in a mood in which he was likely to reprimand Mr Harrison?
Beg pardon, sir?
I think you heard what I said, Jennings. What was it about Mrs Bayford that made you suspect that your master was in a mood in which he was likely to reprimand Mr Harrison?
I dunno, sir. All I know is that when I got to the study the master—
Come, come, Jennings! This won’t do! You suggested—I don’t know whether you intended to, but suggest it you did—that there was something in Mrs Bayford’s demeanour as she left the study which indicated to you that Mr Maxwell Brunton might be out of temper.
I’m sure, sir, I dunno ’ow I managed to give you that idear. I—
Jennings! This very palpable fencing won’t do you any good at all. What was it about Mrs Bayford’s demeanour that led you to expect Mr Brunton to be out of temper?
Well, sir … Well, sir … If you must ’ave it, sir, Miss Claire—she was, well, I think she ’ad been—cryin’ a bit, sir. I can’t see what that’s got to do with it, sir. Dunno whatever made me call to mind or mention such a thing.
Never mind that, Jennings. So Mrs Bayford was crying, and Mr Harrison went into the study, and as soon as he entered it Mr Brunton began to upbraid him?
Up-what ’im, sir?
Mr Brunton began to reprimand him?
Yes, sir. The master, well, sir, ’e was tellin’ Mr ’Arrison off proper.
About what, Jennings?
No idear at all, sir. All I ’eard was the general sort of note, as you might say, of the tick-off. As I got to the door Mr ’Arrison come out again, for the second time that afternoon. Beggin’ your pardon, sir, I must say that I smiled. That was the second time that day I’d seen Mr ’Arrison in trouble.
Never mind, Jennings. When you went in, how did you find Mr Brunton’s manner as far as you were concerned?
Just the same as usual, sir, when ’e was in one of his other moods. He ’ad three moods, as you might say, sir. Short, friendly, and what I and Mrs Jennings used to call ‘the Juke.’
All right, Jennings. I take it that you mean to inform the Court that although Mr Brunton’s manner may have been curt he was not, so far as you could see, unusually angry or upset?
That’s right, sir.
Now, Jennings. Having been in Mr Brunton’s service for this considerable time, you must have known something of his habits. I want you to tell the Court—remembering what I said just now of the necessity for speaking the truth as best you know it—whether, to your knowledge, Mr Brunton was—er—was—shall we say, excessively fond of the other sex.
. . . . . .
Come, now, Jennings. Don’t keep the Court waiting. You heard my question.
Well, sir, it’s very ’ard for me to say like. Mr Brunton, he was a gentleman, as you might say, fond of doing himself very well like. If you take my meaning, sir, he liked to do himself very well. What I mean to say, sir, is ’e was a very open-’anded, open-’earted sort of gentleman, and ’im being such a fine looking man as you might say, well, there’s no denying that ’e didn’t exactly ’ate women. Not of course, sir, that I’ve ’eard of any ’arm, but there it is. Mr Brunton—
Jennings, you know you are not answering questions at all. This rambling on is merely wasting the time of the Court. Did you or did you not know whether Mr Maxwell Brunton was in the habit of forming intimate relations with women other than his wife?
’Ow could I say, sir? Naturally the servants all gets to know this-and-that about the master of the family, but if it’s a good servants’ ’all they don’t get to know too much …
Jennings, I have here a copy of the statement which you made to Inspector Syme on Thursday last together with copies of your replies to his questions. I am afraid I cannot reconcile the answer you have just given us with one of those replies.
’Scuse me, sir, but I suppose you’re referring to that business about the parlourmaid Ellen. I must say, sir, the way things get put into a man’s mouth by the police and then get twisted all round, well … What I mean to say, sir, is certainly the girl did leave, and certainly she shot off ’er mouth a lot about the master, but me and Mrs Jennings, at any rate, didn’t believe not a quarter of what she said. Very pretty little bit she was, sir, but incapable of speakin’ the truth.
I see. So this girl—let me see … Ellen Richards—this girl left the employ of Mr Brunton very suddenly?
Yes, sir.
And she went, apparently, without giving notice, on the twenty-third of February last, having been in the house only a week?
That’s right, sir.
She gave as her reason for leaving the conduct of Mr Brunton?
Couldn’t say what reason she give, sir, but certainly she shot off ’er mouth a lot in the kitchen, and then she rushes upstairs and packs ’er things in ’er box and dashes out of the ’ouse before you could say Jack Robinson. It’s my belief, sir, it was something else altogether. Nothing to do with the master.
Your beliefs are nothing to do with the Court at the moment. When we wish for them we will ask you for them. I should perhaps tell you that the girl Richards has been interviewed by the police …
We will leave her now, and go on to ask you this question—and please, Jennings, remember that your statement may be subject to a check in these papers that I have here. You must understand that personal considerations such as the good name of the family in which you are in service cannot and must not enter into this inquiry. You are here to tell the truth.
Yes, sir. Very good, sir.
Very well. Please tell us whether during your years of service in the household any other similar cases occurred.
Not so far as I know, sir.
Do you remember, Jennings, a lady secretary whom Mr Brunton employed from the January before last until last July?
Miss Mayne, sir. Yes, sir.
That is correct. Miss Gladys Mayne. Now! Miss Mayne left rather abruptly, didn’t she?
Don’t know, sir. She left certainly. Whether it was abruptly like, ’ow could I say?
The Maze Page 4
