“Much obliged for the lecture,” retorted Tarnton crossly. He had a great contempt for any vegetarian, and an even greater one for his learned “friend.”
Mr. Justice Cator put down his pencil. He rubbed the lobe of his left ear. “Perhaps one might proceed?”
Tarnton appeared to search through the papers in front of him. He wondered how many of those in court realised that, no matter how hard he fought, he made no ground. “You didn’t hear every single word that passed between them, did you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“How d’you know that?”
“Well, I…” She did not finish the sentence.
“Quite so. The eavesdropper can never be certain she has heard everything — or even the major part of what’s been said. Of necessity she’s some distance from the speakers and her first worry is to remain hidden. If the speakers lower their voices, the eavesdropper gets left with nothing but a mumble.”
“They was shouting.”
“Are you really asking the court to believe that two people in their position would have a row over such a delicate matter at the tops of their voices?”
“She was shouting.”
“We reduce the number to one. So she was shouting, but he was not?”
“Yes.”
“The accused was speaking in a low voice?”
“I could hear what he said.”
“Even when he was speaking in a very low voice to try and calm his wife?”
“I tell you, I heard everything.”
“You find a certain pride in your attainments?” Tarnton paused, then spoke again. “How long were you kennel-maid at Lower Brakebourne Farm?”
“Not very long.”
“A month?”
“Just a few days.”
“You didn’t like the position?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“The dogs stank.”
“All dogs smell if they’re not properly looked after. Did Mrs. Leithan ever complain you weren’t properly looking after them?”
“She was always on about ’em, and so was he. What’s more, when one of ’em bit me so I bled something terrible, he didn’t care.”
“When was that?”
“The day I left.”
“So you left this job in a state of high dudgeon, furious with your employers?” Tarnton sat down.
Alliter re-examined. “Had you decided to hand in your notice on the day on which you heard the argument between Mr. and Mrs. Leithan?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
The court adjourned.
Chapter XIV
Leithan was astonished that the degradation of imprisonment and the concomitant austerity, had so little effect on him. He had thought it would break him since he had always known the luxury and the complete freedom of wealth, but it was the knowledge that he would probably have little to offer Pamela that worried him so terribly. True, he was not on a capital charge and his life was not threatened, but Phil had told him that if he were found guilty he would almost certainly lose any interest in the trust fund. He knew that, by now, Pamela’s work was almost non-existent. She had failed to answer a number of letters, with the immediate result that she was sent no more: she had been unable to deliver the first of a series of articles and so had lost both the contract and the contact: unless she could begin another book almost at once, she would be failing her publishers. Her potential income had dropped almost to nothing.
He paced the cell, trying to silence his panicking mind and allow it to assure him that Pamela had succeeded once, so that she could again. But his was not the mind, when distressed, to accept logic. Scene followed scene. Pamela used up the little capital he could give her. She was forced to sell her house, when the market was low. Because she was so terribly worried, her books became worse and worse…
He lit a cigarette. Until convicted, he could smoke as many as he wanted, so that he still knew a little freedom. Was there nothing he could do to help her? Surely there were friends who would help? Were there? Evadne had always gone for the glister rather than the gold, and she had always objected so much to his friends that in the end he had almost ceased to see them. Someone had once said that in every marriage there was one who loved and one who allowed love: there was equally one who claimed ground and one who allowed the ground to be claimed. If he had been less desirous of peace, he might now have been able to help Pamela. He castigated himself for the past, even while knowing that this was ridiculous. He had been no door-mat over whom Evadne had brushed her shoes. He had, despite all her opposition, lived his life as he wanted it.
The questions, the accusations, the appeals, whirled around in his mind until he seemed unable to think coherently.
The cell door opened. With a sense of shock, he looked at the warder.
“The law’s come to see you,” said the warder. Obediently, he left the cell and walked down the iron steps which were protected underneath by a heavy steel net; justice must never be defeated by suicide. They went along a short corridor to one of the conference rooms.
Enty stood up. “‘Morning, Charles.”
Leithan noted the other was wearing a sober-coloured suit: was this a gesture of mourning? “‘Morning, Phil.”
He sat down at the table. The warder visually checked that he, Leithan, was in order and then left the room and shut the door. The lock loudly clicked shut.
Enty opened his brief-case and took out a thick bundle of papers. “Tarnton asked me to have a word with you, Charles. When the case is resumed, Abraham Smith will give evidence, and then the police. Without beating about the bush, Tarnton says their evidence is going to be difficult to shake.”
“Difficult? Or bloody impossible?”
Enty searched among his papers and eventually found what he wanted. “You spent all night on the eighteenth with Mrs. Breslow?”
“Yes.” His memory recalled, with bitterness, the urgency with which he had made love and the wonderful peace he had found afterwards.
“Did you ever spend a night with her before?” Enty looked up and his rather coarse face seemed apologetic. “I know. We’ve asked you these questions before.”
“Whenever Evadne was away for the night, I stayed with Pam,” said Leithan dully. “But I always parked the car in the woods so that no one should see it and know where I was.”
“And you can’t suggest anyone who might help you to prove that?”
“Wouldn’t it seem rather ironic to produce proof that I had been committing adultery for a long time?”
“Better to be ironic than to appear not to have committed adultery until the day Evadne vanished.” Enty looked up. “Charles, something’s got to shout in your favour.” There was a note of desperation in his voice. “The more you sit back, the more people are going to think the worst. Tarnton asked me why you didn’t seem to be fighting.”
“Ask him what’s the use, when the facts are openly damning me.”
“That’s being bloody ridiculous.”
There was a short silence.
“I’ve a message for you, Charles, from Mrs. Breslow.”
“Yes?”
“She says she’s looking forward to the end of your new book, but that she didn’t mean you to dive quite so deeply into the deep end.”
Leithan could imagine her saying that in a tight, sharp voice.
“Let’s go through the police evidence once more, Charles. We might find something Tarnton can get his teeth into.”
Wearily, Leithan dragged his mind back to the trial.
*
Abraham Smith, private detective, was a tall, upright man with a tooth-brush moustache and generous grey hair that was swept well back over his head. His clothes fitted him so well, they suggested an expensive tailor; he was able to wear a bow-tie and not look affected. He had a deep and pleasant voice in which there remained a faint suggestion of the accents of his native Devon. “I was called to the offices of Podermar
e and Company on the 7th September. I was instructed that on certain dates, to be given me, I was to watch Hideaway House.”
“Were you given a reason for keeping watch?” asked Alliter.
“I was told that a Mr. Charles Leithan would probably visit it. My job was to gain proof of adultery.”
“How were you to identify Leithan?”
“I was given a photograph of him. I also had the number of both his cars.”
“Do you identify this photograph?” Alliter picked up a small studio portrait which he handed to the usher who carried it to Smith.
“This is the one.”
“Is anything written on it?”
“In one corner is, ‘To my beloved wife.’ It is signed Charles and the date is 1951.”
“Give it back to the usher, will you, please, so that my lord and the jury can see it. Exhibit No. 17, my Lord.” Alliter waited to continue his examination-in-chief until the judge had examined the photograph. “Did you keep watch on the house?”
“I did.”
“Do you know on what dates?”
“May I look at my notes to make certain?”
There was no objection, even from Tarnton.
Smith took a small note-book from his pocket and flicked through the pages. He found what he wanted. “September the tenth, October the first, twelfth, twentieth and thirtieth, and November the eighteenth.”
“Will you tell the jury what happened on each of these dates?”
“I found a place from where I could keep observation on the house and each time I began my watch at midday. On the 10th September, Mr. Leithan arrived at…” He looked at his note-book. “At two o’clock in the afternoon and left at four-fifteen. On 1st October, he arrived at one fifty-one and left at seven minutes past six. On 12th October, he arrived at twelve-eleven and left at five-fifteen. On the twentieth, he arrived at four and left at six thirty-eight. On the thirtieth, I did not see him. On the…”
“Just one moment,” broke in Alliter. “I should like the jury to be certain on one point. Did you, on the dates you’ve given us, keep watch after the time at which the prisoner drove away from Hideaway House?”
“In each case I stayed until two o’clock the following morning.”
“Did you ever see the prisoner return?”
“I did not.”
“What happened on the 18th of November?”
“I began my watch at two o’clock in the afternoon and Mr. Leithan’s car arrived at forty-six minutes past three. I saw him enter the house. I kept watch throughout the night and the car remained there. I was going to knock on the front door the following morning and ask them if they would make a statement, but at seven twenty-two in the morning the right-hand curtain of one of the upstairs rooms was pulled to one side and a man looked out of the window. With the aid of a pair of binoculars, I was able to identify Mr. Charles Leithan. He appeared to be naked. Almost immediately, a lady whom I recognised as Mrs. Pamela Breslow came and leaned against him. She was wearing a nightdress. The curtain fell back into place. I left and returned home.”
“You did not ask them for a statement?”
“No, sir, I decided not to.”
“Why not?”
“In my opinion I had sufficient evidence to prove adultery in a court of law. Therefore, there was no need to embarrass them further. I dislike embarrassing people, sir.” Smith spoke with obvious sincerity.
Alliter leaned back and rested his hands on the bench behind him. “On five separate days you watched the house and the prisoner left either just before or just after dark on four of them. On the sixth occasion, the prisoner openly stayed the whole night at Hideaway House?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the date of this was the 18th of November?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“Was that the last time you kept watch?”
“No, sir. My instructing solicitors said I was to keep a further watch for a few days. The prisoner spent at least two more nights at the house.”
Alliter sat down.
Tarnton turned round and questioned Farmen, then leaned forward and spoke to Enty.
“Do you wish to cross-examine?” asked Mr. Justice Cator, and only the clerk of the court, who had known him a long time, identified the slight touch of sarcasm in the other’s voice. The judge was in no doubt as to why defence counsel was hesitating.
Tarnton stood upright. He gripped the sides of his gown and stared at the wall above the witness’s head. “You weren’t keeping a very good watch?”
“The best I could, sir,” replied Smith, with deceptive humility.
“Then your best wasn’t very good.”
“No, sir?”
“No, it wasn’t. The accused will testify that on each of the days you were watching the house and have said that he left around dark, he was…” Tarnton broke off as a rising murmur of voices from his left distracted his attention. Angrily, he swung round. By the first door of the courtroom, two uniformed policemen and a woman were arguing.
“What is the matter?” asked the judge sharply.
One of the policemen hastily stepped forward. “It’s someone says she’s got to speak, my Lord.”
“Got to speak?”
Pamela Breslow ran forward and half tripped over a torn patch in the coir matting. She saved herself by grabbing at the back of the first row of benches in front of the dock. She stared with passionate appeal at Leithan. Then she said, so loudly she was almost shouting: “I’ve just seen Evadne Leithan.”
Chapter XV
The usher, and then when he was ignored, the police, called for silence. It was a full minute before the hubbub of voices died away.
Mr. Justice Cator, hands clasped together in front of him, stared down at Pamela Breslow. His face was set in cruel lines. “Are you Mrs. Breslow?”
She nodded. Her face was flushed and she was breathing very hurriedly. She could not keep her hands still and was fidgeting with her skirt.
“Will you please consider your position very carefully. In one moment, I shall ask you to enter the witness-box and take the oath. Should you thereafter be misguided enough to commit perjury — no matter how strong an emotional reason you may feel you have — criminal proceedings will be taken against you and you will suffer severe consequences.”
“I’ve just seen her. Can’t you understand that?”
“Very well.” The judge turned his head slightly. “Mr. Tarnton, will you please allow the witness to stand down. You will, of course, be at liberty to recall him later on. With the knowledge that Mrs. Breslow is about to give evidence, would you then like a word with the prisoner?”
Tarnton bowed. He made his way along the line of desks and then to the dock. He spoke to Leithan as Pamela Breslow took the oath. “What the hell’s going on?”
White-faced, Leithan said: “She saw her. D’you hear, she saw her.”
“When did the two of you cook up this crazy scheme?”
“Crazy scheme?” Leithan stared wildly at counsel.
“Bring it to an end here and now before it does both of you too much damage.”
Leithan stared at Pamela. She was looking more than her thirty-three years.
“Mr. Leithan, this is the last chance for you.”
“Evadne’s still alive…”
Tarnton returned to his place. He saw the judge was looking at him and he shook his head.
The judge addressed Pamela. “Mrs. Breslow. You have just taken the oath. Do you realise all that that means?”
“Yes.”
“What is it you wish to tell the court?”
“I was…I was waiting in the middle of the hall outside to be called in here. I had my back to the main door. Something made me turn round suddenly and there she was… You’ve got to do something about it, quickly. Please, you must.”
“There was who?”
“Evadne Leithan.”
“Are you certain?”
“Of course I am,” she cri
ed desperately. “Send someone to find her. You can’t…”
“Be quiet,” snapped the judge. “Confine yourself to answering my questions.”
“But all this time…”
“I am usually averse, Mrs. Breslow, from committing anyone for contempt of court. Yet I have to admit that I should find less reluctance than usual in the present instance.”
There was a short silence.
“What happened after you claim you saw Mrs. Leithan?”
“I shouted to her to stop. She saw who it was and ran for the door leading out to the street. I tried desperately to catch up, but she was out first and when I reached the road there were an awful lot of people around. I couldn’t see her, but I tried to the left.”
“I presume you were unsuccessful in your attempt to speak to her?”
“She wasn’t anywhere. I rushed back here to tell you. She’s laughing at Charles: she’s laughing because he’s being tried for her murder.”
The judge unfolded his hands as he looked across at one of the two white-gloved policemen who guarded the doors into the courtroom. “Go outside, officer, and ask the constable on duty out there to come in here.”
Within seconds, a young policeman entered the courtroom and stood irresolutely at the foot of the steps.
“Constable,” said the judge, “has anything unusual recently taken place in the hall outside?”
The policeman cleared his throat loudly. “There was a young lady calling out, my Lord.”
“Calling out what?”
“To get hold of someone called Evadne, my Lord. She was shouting and I was about to tell her to stop when she ran out on to the road. I went to see what was happening, but by the time I was outside she’d disappeared. She came back a little later on and I again went to speak to her about what was going on, like, but she evaded me and ran in here.”
“You are quite certain she ran out on to the road?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Did you see whether she was running after anyone?”
“No, my Lord.”
With characteristic quickness, the judge came to a decision. “The court will adjourn, Mr. Alliter, for an hour. This will give the police a little time in which to make inquiries.”
The Benefits of Death Page 13
