The Maze

by Philip MacDonald

  Yeth, thir. I thuppothe tho.

  Now, do you remember the day before Mr Brunton met his death?

  Ye—ye—yeth, thir.

  That was Wednesday last, wasn’t it?

  Ye—ye—yeth, thir.

  Did you see Mr Brunton upon that day?

  Ye—yeth, thir.

  At what time did you see Mr Brunton upon that day?

  At about midday, thir.

  Are you sure of the time?

  It wath jutht after twelve, thir.

  And you didn’t see him alive, again?

  N—n—no, thir. What were you doing at twelve noon upon Wednesday when you saw Mr Brunton?

  Pleathe, thir, the mathter wath in the library and hadn’t thut the door, and I’d been putting away the thilver for Mithith Jenningth in the dining-room—

  Yes. Very well, Burrage, we understand … Now, please tell the Court at what time you went to bed upon the Thursday night.

  Early, thir. I’m thorry, I can’t thay to a minute. But it mutht have been before ten, thir, becauthe I know I went up that night before Mithter and Mithith Jenningth, thir, and they’re alwayth up by jutht after ten. They could p’r’apth tell you, thir, better than—

  Yes, yes. Never mind that now. Let us say you were up in your room by 10 p.m. Your room is on the third floor, with the other servants?

  Yeth, thir. Mithter and Mithith Jenningth have the room oppothite mine, thir, and Mith Bockey the one nektht.

  And did you go to bed immediately you got to your room? … Please have patience, Miss Burrage.

  I’m thorry, thir! Very thorry, thir! Only thereth thomething—thomething I ought to ’ave—ought to ’ave—

  One moment, Burrage! Please let me conclude my questioning before you attempt to make any statement … I am going to ask you whether, between the time of your going to bed and your being wakened by Mr Harrison and the police sergeant, you heard any unusual noises in the house?

  Thir, do you mean, thir, when I wath in my room or—

  One moment, Burrage! Are you implying to the Court that after you went upstairs to your room you left it at any time in the night before you were finally wakened by the police sergeant and Mr Harrison?

  Yeth, thir. That wath what I—

  One moment, Burrage, one moment! What time did you leave your room?

  I think it wath about half-patht one. Half-patht one wath what my clock thaid, thir, and it’th reliable.

  What did you leave your room for at such a time?

  I woke up with a thtart and remembered, thir, that I’d forgotten to turn off the tap in the linen room. The tap, thir, that cutth off the thteam from the hot pipe. The mithtreth ith very particular about that, thir, and I’m alwayth forgetting it, like. Tho when I woke with a thtart and remembered that I hadn’t done it, I thought I’d betht get up and go down and thee, thir, at onth.

  And you say that the time by your clock was then one-thirty?

  Yeth, thir.

  Now, to get back, Burrage. What was the noise that you heard while you were out of your room on this occasion?

  I didn’t hear a noithe, thir.

  But I thought just now you were implying that you did?

  I’m thorry, thir—I’m very thtupid, but pleathe, thir—

  Look here, Burrage, I think the best thing you can do is to make this statement that seems to be on your mind in your own way. Please be as brief as you can. I assume it is something to do with what happened while you were either in the linen room—that is on the second floor, isn’t it?—or on your way down to or up from it. Is that correct?

  Yeth, thir. Pleathe, thir, I mutht thay—

  Yes, yes. Go on!

  I can only thay at the thtart that I hope I thhan’t get into trouble. I can thee now that I ought to have made the politheman lithen to me when he wath athking uth all queththunth on Wenthday night. But thomehow, thir, I think I wath tho frightened like and upthet that I jutht anthered the queththunth he put to me, and I thought I’d jutht better wait until it came to be my turn to be the evidenth …

  I see, Burrage. I see. Now, pull yourself together. There’s no one to hurt you and nothing to be frightened of. If you tell what you know now, no harm will come to you.

  I thee, thir. Thank you, thir. Thank you very much, thir. You want me to thay what I thaw, thir?

  Yes, yes. Please go on.

  Well, thir, it wath jutht ath I’d been in the linen room and turned off the thteam tap and wath coming out, opening the door very quietly tho ath not to make it thqueak and make a noithe that might wake anybody up—I wath jutht coming out when I did hear a little noithe, and I peeped round the corner of the cupboard, thir, and I thaw Mith Lamort.

  Who? Who did you say? Speak up, please!

  Mith—Mith—Mith Lamort, thir.

  You saw Miss Lamort? And what was she doing?

  Thir, the’d jutht come out of her room. She was jutht thutting the door.

  What did she do? Did you watch?

  Yeth, thir. It wathn’t that I wanted to thpy, but I wath afraid I might get into trouble if the mithtreth knew that I’d left the tap on all that time; and the would have known if anyone had found that I wath in the cupboard, tho I jutht kept quiet, thir.

  Yes, yes. But what did Miss Lamort do? Did you see?

  Yeth, thir. The went along to the thtudy, thir.

  She went along to the study, eh? How could you see all this?

  Pleathe, thir, the landing light wath on. Mathter alwayth gave orderth that all the landing lighth thhould be left on. Not the pathage lighth, thir, but the landing lighth.

  And this light makes it quite possible to see all the way down the corridor to the study?

  Yeth, thir. Quite pothible.

  What did Miss Lamort do when she reached the study?

  Well, thir, the took hold of the handle and theemed to turn it very, very thlowly, and then at latht the opened the door and went in, thir.

  Did the door shut, behind her?

  Yeth, thir.

  And what did you do then, Burrage?

  Well, thir, I jutht went thwaight upthtairth to my room again and went back to bed.

  I see. You know what the implication of your evidence is, of course?

  Thorry, thir?

  You understand in what direction your evidence is tending, don’t you?

  Yeth, thir. I only hope I than’t get into trouble.

  No, no, no. You’ve nothing to fear if you are telling the truth.

  I alwayth tell the truth, thir.

  What did you think, Burrage, when you saw Miss Lamort go into the study?

  . . . . . .

  Speak up, please. I’m afraid we cannot hear you … I realise that this may be awkward for a respectable young girl like yourself, but I am afraid you will have to answer.

  What did I think, thir? Only what I’ve alwayth thought in thith houthe—I wondered how people could be tho wicked …

  You knew, then, Burrage, the sort of thing that used to go on in the house at times?

  Yeth, thir. I’m not a fool, thir. Thometimeth I thought of giving notith, and then I thought well, after all, it’th nothing to do with me.

  Yes, yes. Quite! So after you saw Miss Lamort enter the study you went back upstairs to your room and went to bed?

  Yeth, thir. It wath a little while before I went to thleep, but I did get to thleep at latht.

  And the next thing you knew was being wakened by Mr Harrison and the police sergeant?

  Yeth, thir.

  Now, Burrage, I want you to think very carefully before you answer this question. You are perfectly certain that it was Miss Lamort you saw?

  Yeth, thir. There wath no one elth who’th tho tall with that beautiful hair, thir. And there’th no one elth in the houthe that would have that great green thtone. And bethide’, thir, I know Mith Lamort. I couldn’t make a mithtake like that. It would be impothible.

  Yes, yes. Of course. How was Miss Lamort dressed?

  . . . . . .
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  Speak up, please!

  The had on a nightdreth, thir.

  What colour was it? Anything over it?

  The nightdreth wath black, thir. I thould think it wath thilk. And the had jutht a thort of wrap over it, thir. Jutht a thin thing. Bright colourth on the front, thir—thome thort of embroidery.

  Burrage, you said something about a green stone. I’m afraid I didn’t quite follow you. Perhaps you would explain to the Court what it was you had in mind?

  Oh, yeth, thir. Mith Lamort’th got a big thort of lovely thtone, thir. I don’t know what ith called, the wearth it alwayth. I’ve never theen her without it. Ith a big green thtone and the wearth it round her neck.

  Oh, I see—some sort of pendant. Thank you, Burrage. Now, did you hear any sounds after Miss Lamort had gone into the study and the door had shut behind her?

  No, thir.

  And you went straight upstairs again?

  Yeth, thir.

  . . . . . .

  I will have silence in this Court! Please keep quiet there! Where’s Dr Fothergill? … Doctor, can you have Miss Lamort taken back to the waiting-room so that you can attend to her there? … And, Doctor, she’s not to be allowed to leave the Court. Will she be fit soon to give evidence?

  My dear sir! I very, very, very much doubt whether Miss Lamort will be fit to do anything—anything at all—for many, many days. Perhaps weeks.

  Perhaps you will come back, Doctor, as soon as you can and give us your report … SILENCE, please, in Court! SILENCE!

  Now, Miss Burrage, perhaps we can get on! Have you heard the evidence of all the other witnesses in this case?

  Yeth, thir.

  Leaving aside for the moment this one very important piece of evidence which you have given us, is there anything in the other previous evidences with which you disagree?

  No, thir.

  Gentlemen, I propose that at this stage we do not trouble this witness any further. We can recall her if necessary but after this extraordinary fresh line of inquiry which her evidence has opened up, I think there would be no useful purpose in going over the old ground, so that if there are no further questions which you would like to ask? … Thank you. Miss Burrage, you may stand down. We may want you again later. Please remain in Court … Silence.

  I propose now to adjourn this Court for half an hour. At the end of that time I shall call Mary Lamort. If she is not then fit to give further evidence, we shall have, I am afraid, to adjourn the hearing. It is getting late.

  XV

  THE CORONER

  … I now declare the Court open. The first duty before us is to hear the further evidence of Mary Elizabeth Lamort … Call Mary Elizabeth Lamort.

  What’s that? What’s that? Oh, it’s Dr Fothergill. Do you wish to make any statement?

  I’m afraid I can’t properly hear what you are saying.

  Silence! I must have silence in this Court-room! I shall have to have the room cleared if I am annoyed further in this way.

  Now then, Dr Fothergill, if you would come up to the table … Thank you.

  XVI

  WILLIAM EUSTACE FOTHERGILL, M.R.C.S., L.R.C.P.

  NOW then, Doctor, what is it that you wish to tell the Court?

  I wish to state that in my opinion Miss Lamort should not give evidence today.

  And your grounds, Doctor, I suppose are? …

  Surely they are obvious, Mr Coroner. This is the second time I have been before you during these proceedings. In my confirmed opinion Miss Lamort is in no state to undergo the strain which giving evidence is bound to entail.

  I see. Where is Miss Lamort?

  Miss Lamort, Mr Coroner, is here. I should add that I am making this protest purely as a medical man because my patient insists that she shall give evidence.

  Really? In that case, Doctor, I fail to see why—

  It does not interest me, sir, what you see or what you fail to see. I have registered my complete disapproval and I now wash my hands of the whole matter!

  I see. In that case, Doctor, may I suggest that you stand down so that we may proceed with the examination of Miss Lamort? This interruption seems to have served no purpose except to waste the time of the Court.

  Really, Mr Coroner, I—

  I must ask you to stand down, Doctor Fothergill … Call Mary Elizabeth Lamort.

  XVII

  MARY ELIZABETH LAMORT (RECALLED)

  I understand, Miss Lamort, that it is at your own wish that you are giving evidence again?

  Yes.

  You wish to make a statement?

  Yes.

  Is this statement in reference to the evidence given by Violet Burrage?

  Yes.

  Were you in Court during that evidence? Or did you hear of it?

  I was in Court.

  I now have to consider whether I will take this additional evidence of yours now or later. I must say that, at the moment, I am inclined—

  Oh, please—please! I must talk. If I am left on the rack … any longer I may … I may—

  Will you please make your statement.

  Yes … If I could … if I might … just … I won’t keep you a moment … I don’t know … where … to begin … I am sorry.

  Come, Miss Lamort, we are waiting!

  Yes. Yes. I know—I—I—I—oh, my God! I must say it, I must! … What I said before—was untrue—nearly all of it. Now—I am going to speak the truth, so help me God!

  I was Maxwell Brunton’s—mistress … I—our intimacy—began a fortnight before his death … On the Thursday night—he—he—oh, my God!

  . . . . . .

  Can you resume, Miss Lamort?

  Yes. Yes. On Thursday night—on Thursday afternoon, rather—we saw each other for—a little while—less than five minutes. We arranged that I should—if it seemed safe—go into his study after—the others—had gone to bed. We had done it before …

  I went up to bed at half-past eleven—when—I think it was about three-quarters of an hour later—when I felt certain that the house—that it was safe … I—went along to the study—I did not knock—I turned the handle—very quietly—and I went in … I must have been so quiet turning the handle—it took me a long time—I did not want to make any sound with the lock—that I must have startled Maxwell … Before I could see round the door, I heard him jump up … I think he must have knocked his chair over, but he came to meet me … He seemed—almost angry that I was there. He said it wasn’t safe—I had come too early … We talked very, very low … I went. I crept back to my room, and I went to bed … I was angry—angry with Maxwell.

  I stayed in bed trying to sleep … I did not want to go to him—after that … At least, I thought that. But I could not sleep … And then I realised that I—had been foolish. I found that I wanted to go back … I tried to fight against this—but I could not …

  I went back—I don’t know what the time was. That must have been when that girl saw me. I opened the door in the same way—quietly—very quietly … I did not want Maxwell to be angry again … And then …

  . . . . . .

  Yes. Yes. Give me a moment. I must say this … I mustn’t think … I mustn’t think … I mustn’t think! I must say this … I must make myself—machine—say this …

  I went in. The light was still on … Maxwell lay on the floor … There was a place in his head—that should have been … There was blood … He was dead … I did not do anything. I knew that he—was—dead … As I turned to go my foot brushed against something—and I looked down and saw—the thing—that he had used as a paper-weight. One end of it was covered with blood … I was—it was as if I was in a nightmare. But I thought … I could do nothing. I could not bring him back to life. I knew what I must do—for my own sake—for Enid’s sake—for everyone’s sake … I must go back—back to my own room and pretend—and swear—and lie—and say that I had never left it …

  I went back to—my—own—room—

  Quick, man! Catch her! Where’s Dr Fother
gill?

  . . . . . .

  Now to resume. I should have liked to have completed the re-examination of the last witness, but, as you see, her state of health makes this impossible. She is being attended to by her medical attendant and I can only hope that she will be well enough to give further evidence tomorrow if we should require it. In these circumstances I declare the Court adjourned. It will open tomorrow at 10.30 a.m. promptly.

  PART THREE

  VERBATIM REPORT OF CORONER’S INQUEST (2ND DAY)

  THE CORONER AND BRANSBY FARQUHARSON, K.C.

  I declare the Court open.

  Before I commence any other business, I have a communication here which I have received from Mr Bransby Farquharson … Is Mr Farquharson in Court?

  I am.

  Ah, Mr Farquharson, I should have noticed you. Would you be so good as to step up to the table?

  Certainly.

  Mr Farquharson, you say in your letter that you are watching these proceedings on behalf of Miss Mary Elizabeth Lamort. You also state that, on her behalf, you would like to suggest the recalling of Doctor Crosby and the calling of Sir Philip Fennimore?

  That is correct.

  Your letter, Mr Farquharson, does not give me any indication of why you wish this further evidence. I presume, of course, that it is on account of the trend of yesterday’s evidence which, in regard to Miss Lamort, was of a startling character.

  That is correct.

  The request, Mr Farquharson, is a somewhat unusual one, as doubtless so eminent a legal luminary as yourself will allow. In fact, I may say that if the request had not come from so distinguished a person as yourself I should have felt inclined to inquire into matters a good deal more closely than I have any intention of doing at the moment. What I would like you to do, though, if you have no objection, is to give the jury your reasons, which you were doubtless too hurried to put in your letter, for wishing to recall Dr Crosby.

  Certainly. On behalf of my client I consider it absolutely essential that the imputations conveyed by the evidence given yesterday by Violet Burrage should be refuted—and refuted immediately. As my client, with truly magnificent courage, stated during her second terrible ordeal in yesterday’s proceedings, she does not deny—and what is far more, gentlemen, has no wish to deny—that she did, in fact, visit the study of the deceased man at the hour stated by Violet Burrage. But, gentlemen, my client does deny that she caused the death of Maxwell Brunton. I put it to you, gentlemen, that if there existed even the shadow of a possibility that proof could be brought forward to show that my unfortunate client—a woman, gentlemen, and a beautiful woman who is now upon the terrible rack of public opinion—I put it to you, I say, that if there existed even the ghost of a chance for my client to bring forward evidence to show that not only did she not kill Maxwell Brunton but that she could not have killed Maxwell Brunton—I put it to you, gentlemen, she should be allowed to produce any evidence within her power, or the power of her advisors, to bring forward. How much more then is it essential that this fresh evidence should be heard when it is not a ‘ghost of a chance’ but a ‘cast-iron certainty.’ I put it to you, Mr Coroner and gentlemen, that as my client’s name can be cleared of the terrible stigma of murder—