Surgeon: “Yes. There was a severe wound at the back of the head which would undoubtedly have caused death, probably instantaneously.”
Coroner: “Were there any other wounds or injuries?”
Surgeon: “Yes. Several bones were broken, both in the limbs and in the chest.”
Coroner: “What did this suggest to you?”
Surgeon: “That the deceased had fallen from a considerable height. I have seen such injuries on other occasions, and the circumstances were always thus.”
Coroner: “Is it possible, in your experience, that death could have been caused in any other way?”
Surgeon: (after a moment’s consideration) “Yes, there is one other possibility: that the deceased was struck on the head with a blunt object - say, a large stone - which killed him, and that his lifeless body was then flung from a great height into the quarry.”
Coroner: “Is there anything in the state of the body to distinguish between these two possibilities?”
Surgeon: “No. All the injuries occurred either at the same time or within a very few moments of each other. This would have been the case whether the death was an accident or the result of foul play.”
Foreman of the jury: “There was nothing specifically in your findings which would suggest foul play?”
Surgeon: “No.”
The constable was then recalled and asked if there had been any evidence in the quarry to indicate which stone, of all those there, might have been the one upon which Brookfield struck his head.
Constable: “No. There were several stones in the vicinity of the deceased which, from their shape and size might have been responsible.”
Coroner: “There was no stone on which there were traces of blood, for instance?”
Constable: “No. It had rained quite heavily between the probable time of death and the time the body was discovered, and I think that some of the blood-stains had been washed away. For example, although there was some blood around the head where the deceased lay, as you would expect, even that was not of uniform appearance, but was blotchy and partly washed away.
Evidence was then taken from Brookfield’s friends and acquaintances, and others who had been in the Royal Oak on the evening of his death. The coroner asked each of them first if they knew of anyone who might have wished Brookfield ill, to which all answered “no”. He then asked each of them if Brookfield’s manner had seemed in any way different on the evening of his death, and all agreed that he had been more morose than usual. There appeared to have been two reasons for this: first that he had had little money, and, second that he had earlier had a quarrel with his daughter, which he regretted. The general opinion, also, was that he was somewhat more inebriated than usual. The coroner asked how this could be so if Brookfield had had little money, to which several of those who had been present in the Royal Oak stated that Brookfield had “borrowed” a drink from them with the promise to return the favour at some future date - although no-one entirely believed this promise.
The coroner also asked each of the witnesses in turn if they thought it possible that Brookfield might have considered taking his own life. Each declared that such a thought was inconceivable.
Coroner: “I am asking this question in an attempt to shed light on the reason why the deceased should have approached the edge of the quarry on the night in question, which matter seems to me to be in need of explanation.”
At this, one of the witnesses, Thomas Hopkins, asked to be recalled, and gave the following additional testimony:
Hopkins: “Mr Brookfield said to me, on the evening of his death, that he did not wish to go home until he could be sure that his daughter and son-in-law were in bed and asleep, as he did not wish to face them after the row they had had earlier in the evening.”
Coroner: “Are you suggesting, then, that the deceased went to sit by the edge of the quarry on that occasion simply in order to pass a little time before going home?”
Hopkins: “Yes, sir.”
Coroner: “Would the edge of the quarry be a suitable place for anyone to sit down to pass the time? Is there nowhere safer or more comfortable?”
Hopkins: “There is nowhere much on that road to sit down, sir, which is comfortable, except for that stretch of grass by the quarry. I have sat there myself occasionally in years past on sunny days. But I would not go there at night, and nor would I go near the edge of the quarry, for it’s a mighty drop.”
The coroner made a note of all this, and then called Brookfield’s daughter, Mrs Elizabeth Naylor. He apologized for doing so, and said he had hoped it would not be necessary, but said that the court needed to know about the quarrel that was said to have occurred on the evening of Brookfield’s death, as that was thought to have played a part, if only indirectly, in what had later taken place.
Mrs Naylor: “My father lived with us. He did odd jobs about the house, for which I gave him a small allowance. On the day in question, he asked for some money, but I had already given him some the day before and I told him I could not afford to give him any more, which was true. He then said that I did not appreciate the work he did - which wasn’t true - and that he would go where he was more appreciated, mentioning his sister at Banbury. I told him that he was welcome to go there as far as I was concerned, but that she wouldn’t put up with him as I did, and we had a quarrel about it all.”
Coroner: “Had he ever threatened to move to his sister’s house before?”
Mrs Naylor: “Yes, once or twice, but he had never done so. He visited her occasionally, but never as a result of a quarrel with me.”
Coroner: “Were you surprised when your father had not returned by the time you retired for the night?”
Mrs Naylor: “No. He was often late home if he stayed to chat to a crony of his in the village after he had left the pub.”
Coroner: “And when he did not return at all that night, or, indeed, for the next two weeks, were you not then surprised?”
Mrs Naylor: “A little, but I assumed he had gone to his sister’s, as he had threatened, and that he would turn up again eventually.”
The coroner then asked all those present if any of them had stood talking with Brookfield after leaving the inn on the night in question. One man, Arthur Streedbank, stood up and stated that he had done so.
Coroner: “Did the deceased mention to you the quarrel he had had with his daughter?”
Streedbank: “No, your honour.”
Coroner: “What did you talk about, then?”
Streedbank: “Country matters, your honour: rabbits and suchlike.”
Coroner: “For how long were you in conversation?”
Streedbank: “I don’t rightly know. At least half an hour, I should say.”
Coroner: “So there was probably not really much need for the deceased to pass any further time by sitting by the quarry, but, of course, he might have wished to make absolutely certain that his daughter had retired for the night before he returned.”
The coroner wrote for some time, then, looking up from his papers, summarized the evidence we had heard. He then asked the jury if they had understood it all. A short discussion ensued among the members of the jury, then the foreman, a tall, distinguished-looking man with white hair and a long, thin nose, stood up and said that they had understood it all perfectly. The coroner then asked them to consider their verdict on all that they had heard. Another discussion, somewhat more prolonged, ensued, during which there seemed to be some disagreement between the foreman and a large man sitting directly behind him, but eventually the foreman stood up once more and gave their verdict as follows:
“It is our belief that the death of Jacob Brookfield was an accident, and that no-one else was involved in any capacity whatever. We believe that he had gone to sit by the quarry to pass a little time, and that, his judgement, and perhaps, also, his
physical capability being impaired by the amount of alcoholic liquor he had consumed, he came too close to the edge of the quarry, stumbled, and so fell to his death.”
“Is that the verdict of you all?”
“It is. May we make a further observation?”
“By all means.”
“We feel that the owner of the land on which the quarry stands, whom we believe to be Mr Pearson of Lower Cropley Farm, should be obliged to erect a wire fence at the place where the quarry comes close to the road, to prevent any repetition of this tragic accident.”
“I will make a note of your recommendation,” said the coroner. He then thanked the jury for their efforts, formally closed the proceedings, and we made our way out into the street.
“The foreman of the jury was a well-spoken man,” I observed to Farringdon Blake, as we stood amid a large throng of people, milling about outside the inn. “I don’t know what Pearson will think of the suggestion that he should be obliged to erect a fence,” I added. “It tends to imply that Pearson himself was partly culpable for the death.”
“Yes, I had the same thought,” returned Blake with a dry chuckle. “Pearson won’t like that at all. The foreman of the jury was Ashton, by the way.”
“What, your rival for Mrs Booth’s interest? Why, he looks old enough to be her father! Surely, he can’t be much of a rival?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Watson,” returned Blake. “You know what widowers are like - or, perhaps you don’t: they mourn their wives for some time, but eventually come to the point of fancying a little more company about the house. And when they do, they nearly always set their sights on someone a lot younger than wife number one.”
“If that is really what he has in mind,” I returned, “he is a little premature. Mrs Booth is still married to someone else.”
“Yes, of course. But I suspect that, like a careful and methodical architect, he may be laying the groundwork now, in a general sort of way, groundwork upon which he can later erect an attractive edifice of wealth and position, with which to lure Mrs Booth in his direction.”
I nudged Blake in the ribs as surreptitiously as I could. “He’s approaching now,” I said.
A moment later, we were greeted by the tall, white-haired man I had seen acting as foreman of the coroner’s jury.
“Good morning, Blake!” he cried in a pleasant tone. “Well, that’s that business out of the way. I don’t know why the coroner prolonged the proceedings by raising the possibility of foul play in the way he did. It was obvious from start to finish that it was just a ghastly accident!”
Blake returned his greeting and introduced me.
“A doctor, eh?” said Ashton. “Pleased to meet you! It’s something of a coincidence, actually: I’ve just been reading about the part played by the doctor who sailed with Christopher Columbus. It’s fascinating, I can tell you!”
“I’m sure it is,” I responded, hoping that he would not launch into an account of it there and then.
“With regard to the coroner and the question of foul play,” said Blake: “I suppose he was duty-bound to consider all possibilities. After all, he did also raise the possibility of suicide.”
“Yes,” returned Ashton, “but that was ridiculous, too. Men like Brookfield don’t kill themselves - too old, too set in their ways! And as for foul play: who’d want to kill him? He might as well have raised the possibility of the man in the moon coming down and pushing Brookfield over the edge of the quarry! Anyway, enough of that! Must be off! Looks like it might rain again! Nice to have met you, doctor! You must come over and have supper with us one evening!”
As we made our way back to the Grange under heavy skies, Blake asked me what I thought of the inquest and the verdict which had been reached.
“Of course,” he said, “it is apparent that Ashton, and no doubt others, were already convinced that Brookfield’s death was an accident before the inquest even began, and I suppose that, all things considered, that is the most likely explanation. And yet, I can’t help harbouring a few doubts. What do you think, Watson?”
I shook my head. “On the evidence presented,” I replied cautiously, having in mind Holmes’s instruction not to divulge his own view of the matter, “I would have to agree that ‘accidental death’ was the most reasonable verdict. I did notice, however, that, to begin with, at least, there appeared to be some disagreement between the jurors on the point. That large man who was sitting behind Ashton seemed to be arguing about something.”
Blake nodded his head. “I noticed that, too. The large man was Perkins, an old crony of Brookfield’s. He evidently thought that there was something not quite right about the whole business.”
“And yet, Ashton’s view prevailed in the end,” I remarked. “I could not help but wonder if the fact that Ashton was more eloquent and probably more highly educated than the other jurymen had more to do with that than the actual facts of the case. Perhaps without Ashton they would have reached a different verdict.”
Again Blake nodded his head. “That is always the trouble in these rural parts: the large landowner states his opinion and other men tend to defer to him and go along with what he has said, as much because of his social position as his arguments. I don’t know, Watson. Perhaps my own recent experiences have made me suspicious of everything that happens, and have inclined me to see plots and conspiracies where none exist, but it seems something of a coincidence that Brookfield should have met his death in this untimely fashion at just the same time as I am being spied upon at the Grange and having stones thrown at me in the dark. You must remember that this is a parish in which nothing out of the ordinary occurs from one year’s end to the next, and now, all at once, odd things are happening all the time, one after the other. There was no connection between Brookfield and me - I had probably only spoken to him four or five times in three years - but, still, the coincidence of his death strikes me as odd. Did Mr Holmes express any opinion about it?”
“He was certainly interested in it,” I responded. “As you will imagine, with a mind like Holmes has, he is always trying to fit things into some overall pattern. He dislikes treating anything as simply a coincidence unless it is absolutely impossible to connect it up to other things; but sometimes, of course, coincidences do occur.”
“So he has no particular opinion on the matter?”
“I should not say that, exactly,” I returned. “But, as far as I am aware, he has no definite evidence which would prove the matter one way or the other. if he did have, he would certainly have communicated it to the authorities.”
With that somewhat evasive answer from me, our discussion of the matter drew to a close. Upon our return to the Grange, Blake at once retired to his study to continue his essay on railway braking systems. He was evidently able to get back into it again very quickly, for over lunch he explained to me in great detail some of the intricacies of the subject, including the latest developments in the United States of a brake which would be applied automatically, very quickly and with permanent effect should the vehicles of the train part for any reason. I have always found this sort of technical discussion fascinating, I must say, and I was glad that Blake had something to occupy his mind other than the mysterious and unpleasant events which had beset him recently.
After lunch, Blake returned to the study with Whitemoor. “It shouldn’t take us above an hour or two at most,” he said to me. “Whitemoor is helping me with a couple of diagrams to accompany the text. They don’t have to be works of art, as the journal’s own artist will almost certainly re-draw them for publication, anyway, but they must be clear. I’ll let you have a look at them later on, Watson. You can act as our ‘Mr Everyman’, if you wouldn’t mind, and let us know if you can understand them!”
“By all means,” I returned. “I shall look forward to it.”
After they had left me, I sat for some
time, reflecting on all that had happened recently, but could make little sense of it. As it had begun to rain again, I decided to take the opportunity to write an account of the morning’s inquest for Holmes’s benefit, so took myself off to my bedroom and laid out my foolscap once more. I glanced at what I had already written. It seemed quite a pile. Holmes had been gone for little over twenty-four hours and yet I had covered sheet after sheet with my reports of the people I had met and the conversations that had taken place. Holmes might find my reports inadequate in some respects, but I was sure he could not fault my thoroughness.
It took me some considerable time to complete my account of the inquest and of our brief meeting with Ashton afterwards, and by the time I had finished I felt so exhausted that I lay on my bed, closed my eyes and, within a few moments, had fallen fast asleep.
11: Mr Needham of Abbeyfield House
I AWOKE to the sound of someone tapping on my bedroom door. As I opened my eyes, the door opened and Farringdon Blake put his head in.
“Sorry to disturb you, Watson,” said he.
“That’s perfectly all right. I should probably be up, anyway. Do you know what the time is?”
“Just after four o’clock. I came to tell you that my account of railway brakes is all finished. It’s stopped raining now, too, so we could walk over to Needham’s place if you felt up to it.”
“Certainly,” I said. “I’ll be with you in a few moments.”
“I’ve asked Ann to make us a pot of tea,” Blake added, “so we can fortify ourselves before we set off.”
Five minutes later, we were sitting in the drawing-room and Blake was showing me his latest article and the illustrations that were to accompany it.
“What you have labelled a ‘triple valve’ looks an ingenious device,” I remarked.
“It is,” said Blake. “It’s extremely simple in conception, but very effective in practice. It was invented by George Westinghouse, in America. He seems to be a very prolific inventor of such things. I imagine it must be very satisfying to see a problem and come up with a solution to it. Most of us don’t even see the problems, let alone find solutions to them.”
The Riddle of Foxwood Grange Page 14
