The Case of Miss Elliott

by Baroness Orczy

  “‘I am such a light sleeper, you know, sir,’ he said in a tear-choked voice. ‘Usually I could hear every noise the mare made if she stirred at all. But, there – last night I cannot say what happened. I remember that I felt rather drowsy after my supper, and must have dropped off to sleep very quickly. Once during the night I woke up; the mare was all right then.’

  “The man paused, and seemed to be searching for something in his mind – the recollection of a dream, perhaps. But the veterinary surgeon, who was present at the time, having also been hastily summoned to the stables, took up the glass which had contained the beer for Cockram’s supper. He sniffed it, and then tasted it, and said quietly:

  “‘No wonder you slept heavily, my man. This beer was drugged: it contained opium.’

  “‘Drugged!’ ejaculated Cockram, who, on hearing this fact, which in every way exonerated him from blame, seemed more hopelessly wretched than he had been before.

  “It appears that every night Cockram’s supper was brought out to him in the stables by one of the servants from the Manor House. On this particular night Mrs Keeson’s maid, a young girl named Alice Image, had brought him a glass of beer and some bread and cheese on a tray at about eleven o’clock.

  “Closely questioned by Mr Keeson, the girl emphatically denied all knowledge of any drug in the beer. She had often taken the supper tray across to Cockram, who was her sweetheart, she said. It was usually placed ready for her in the hall, and when she had finished attending upon her mistress’ night toilet she went over to the stables with it. She had certainly never touched the beer, and the tray had stood in its accustomed place on the hall table looking just the same as usual. ‘As if I’d go and poison my Cockram!’ she said in the midst of a deluge of tears.

  “All these somewhat scanty facts crept into the evening papers that same day. That an outrage of a peculiarly daring and cunning character had been perpetrated was not for a moment in doubt. So much money had been at stake, so many people would be half-ruined by it, that even the nonracing public at once took the keenest interest in the case. All the papers admitted, of course, that for the moment the affair seemed peculiarly mysterious, yet all commented upon one fact, which they suggested should prove an important clue: this fact was Cockram’s strange attitude.

  “At first he had been dazed – probably owing to the after-effects of the drug; he had also seemed too wretched even to resent Mr Keeson’s very natural outburst of wrath. But then, when the presence of the drug in his beer was detected, which proved him, at any rate, to have been guiltless in the matter, his answers, according to all accounts, became somewhat confused; and all Mr Keeson and the ‘vet’, who were present, got out of him after that, was a perpetual ejaculation: ‘What’s to be done? What’s to be done?’

  “Two days later the sporting papers were the first to announce, with much glee, that thanks to the untiring energy of the Scotland Yard authorities, daylight seemed at last to have been brought to bear upon the mystery which surrounded the dastardly outrage on the Earl of Okehampton’s mare Cigarette, and that an important arrest in connection with it had already been effected.

  “It appears that a man named Charles Palk, seemingly of no address, had all along been suspected of having at least a hand in the outrage. He was believed to be a bookmaker’s tout, and was a man upon whom the police had long since kept a watchful eye. Palk had been seen loafing around the Manor House for the past week, and had been warned off the grounds once or twice by the grooms.

  “It now transpired that on the day preceding the outrage he had hung about the neighbourhood of the Manor House the whole afternoon, trying to get into conversation with the stable-boys, or even with Mr Keeson’s indoor servants. No one, however, would have anything to do with him, as Mr Keeson’s orders in those respects were very strict: he had often threatened any one of his employés with instant dismissal if he found him in company with one of these touts.

  “Detective Twiss, however, who was in charge of the case, obtained the information that Alice Image, the maid, had been seen on more than one occasion talking to Palk, and that on the very day before the Coronation Stakes she had been seen in his company. Closely questioned by the detective, Alice Image at first denied her intercourse with the tout, but finally was forced to admit that she had held conversation with him once or twice.

  “She was fond of putting a bit now and again upon a horse, but Cockram, she added, was such a muff that he never would give her a tip, for he did not approve of betting for young women. Palk had always been very civil and nice-spoken, she further explained. Moreover, he came from Buckinghamshire, her own part of the country, where she was born; anyway, she had never had cause to regret having entrusted a half-sovereign or so of her wages to him.

  “All these explanations delivered by Alice Image, with the flow of tears peculiar to her kind, were not considered satisfactory, and the next day she and Charles Palk were both arrested on the charge of being concerned in the poisoning of the Earl of Okehampton’s mare Cigarette, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm.”

  3

  “These sort of cases,” continued the man in the corner after a slight pause, during which his nervous fingers toyed incessantly with that eternal bit of string – “these sort of cases always create a great deal of attention amongst the public, the majority of whom in this country have very strong sporting proclivities. It was small wonder, therefore, when Alice Image and Charles Palk were brought before the local magistrates, that the court was crowded to overflowing, both with pressmen and with the general public.

  “I had all along been very much interested in the case, so I went down to Newmarket, and, in spite of the huge crowd, managed to get a good seat, whence I could command a full view of the chief personages concerned in this thrilling sporting drama.

  “Firstly, there was the Earl of Okehampton – good-looking, but for an unmistakable air of the broken-down sporting man about his whole person; the trainer, Mr Keeson – a lean, clean-shaven man, with a fine, proud carriage, and a general air of ancient lineage and the Domesday Booke about him; Mrs Keeson – a pale, nervous-looking creature, who seemed very much out of place in this sporting set; and, finally, the accused – Alice Image, dissolved in tears, and Charles Palk, overdressed, defiant, horsey, and unsympathetic.

  “There was also Cockram, the groom. My short-sighted eyes had fastened on him the moment I entered the court. A more wretched, miserable, bewildered expression I have never seen on any man’s face.

  “Both Alice Image and Charles Palk flatly denied the charge. Alice declared, amid a renewed deluge of tears, that she was engaged to be married to Cockram, that she ‘no more would have hurt him or the pretty creature he was in charge of, for anything’. How could she? As for Palk – conscious, no doubt, of his own evil reputation – he merely contented himself with shrugging his shoulders and various denials, usually accompanied with emphatic language.

  “As neither of the accused attempted to deny that they had been together the day before the outrage, there was no occasion to call witnesses to further prove that fact. Both, however, asserted emphatically that their conversation was entirely confined to the subject of Alice’s proposed flutters on the favourite for the next day’s race.

  “Thus the only really important witness was the groom, Cockram. Once again his attitude as a witness caused a great deal of surprise, and gradually, as he gave his evidence in a peculiarly halting and nervous manner, that surprise was changed into suspicion.

  “Questioned by the magistrate, he tried his hardest to exonerate Alice from all blame; and yet when asked whether he had cause to suspect anyone else he became more confused than ever, said, ‘No,’ emphatically first, then, ‘Yes,’ and finally looked round the court appealingly, like some poor animal at bay. That the man was hiding something, that he was, in point of fact, lying, was apparent to everyone. He had drunk the beer, he said, unsuspectingly on that fatal night; he had then dropped off to sleep almost immediatel
y, and never woke until about six a.m., when a glance at the mare at once told him that there was something very wrong.

  “However, whether Cockram was lying or not – whether he suspected anyone else or was merely trying to shield his sweetheart, there was, in the opinion of the magistrate, quite sufficient evidence to prove that Alice Image, at any rate, had a hand in the hocussing of Cigarette, since it was she who had brought the drugged beer to Cockram. Beyond that there was not sufficient evidence to show either that she was a tool in the hands of Palk, or that they both were merely instruments in the hands of some third person.

  “Anyway, the magistrate – it was Major Laverton, JP, a great personal friend of the Earl of Okehampton, and a remarkably clever and acute man – tried his hardest to induce Alice to confess. He questioned the poor girl so closely and so rigorously that gradually she lost what little self-control she had, and everyone in the court blamed Major Laverton not a little, for he was gradually getting the poor girl into a state of hysterics.

  “As for me, I inwardly commended the learned JP, for already I had guessed what he was driving at, and was not the least astonished when the dramatic incident occurred which rendered this case so memorable.

  “Alice Image, namely, now thoroughly unnerved, harassed with the Major’s questions, suddenly turned to where Cockram was sitting, and, with hysterical cry, she stretched out both her arms towards him.

  “‘Joe! my Joe!’ she cried; ‘you know I didn’t do it! Can’t you do anything to help me?’

  “It was pathetic in the extreme: everyone in the court felt deeply moved. As for Cockram, a sudden change came over him. I am accustomed to read the faces of my fellow men, and in that rough countenance I saw then emerging, in response to the girl’s appeal, a quick and firm resolution.

  “‘Ay, and I will, Alice!’ he said, jumping to his feet. ‘I have tried to do my duty. If the gentlemen will hear me I will say all I know.’

  “Needless to say, ‘the gentlemen’ were only too ready to hear him. Like a man who, having made up his mind, is now resolved to act upon it, the groom Cockram began his story.

  “‘I told your worship that, having drunk the beer that night, I dropped off to sleep very fast and very heavy-like. How long I’d been asleep I couldn’t say, when suddenly something seemed not exactly to wake me but to dispel my dreams, so to speak. I opened my eyes. and at first I couldn’t see anything, as the gas in the stable was turned on very low; but I put out my hand to feel the mare’s fetlocks, just by way of telling her that I was there all right enough, and looking after her – bless her! At that moment, your worship, I noticed that the stable door was open, and that someone – I couldn’t see who it was – was goin’ out of it. “Who goes there?” says I, for I still felt very sleepy and dull, when, to my astonishment, who should reply to me but –’

  “The man paused, and once more over his rough, honest face came the old look of perplexity and misery.

  “‘But –?’ queried the magistrate, whose nerves were obviously as much on tension as those of everyone else in that court.

  “‘Speak, Joe – won’t you?’ appealed Alice Image pathetically.

  “‘But the mistress – Mrs Keeson, sir,’ came from the groom in an almost inaudible whisper. ‘You know, ma’am,’ he added, while the gathering tears choked his voice, ‘I wouldn’t ’ave spoke. But she’s my sweetheart, ma’am; and I couldn’t bear that the shame should rest on her.’

  “There was a moment’s deadly silence in that crowded court. Everyone’s eyes wandered towards the pale face of Mrs Keeson, which, however, though almost livid in colour, expressed nothing but the most boundless astonishment. As for Mr Keeson, surprise, incredulity, then furious wrath at the slander, could be seen chasing one another upon his handsome face.

  “‘What lie is this?’ burst involuntarily from his lips, as his fingers closed more tightly upon the heavy riding whip which he was holding.

  “‘Silence, please!’ said the Major with authority. ‘Now, Cockram, go on. You say Mrs Keeson spoke to you. What did she say?’

  “‘She seemed rather upset, sir,’ continued Cockram, still looking with humble apology across at his mistress, ‘for she only stammered something about: “Oh, it’s nothing, Cockram. I only wanted to speak to my son – er – to Mr Harold – I –”’

  “‘Harold?’ thundered Mr Keeson, who was fast losing his temper.

  “‘I must ask you, Mr Keeson, to be silent,’ said the Major. ‘Go on, Cockram.’

  “And Cockram continued his narrative:

  “‘“Mr Harold, ma’am?” I said. “What should ’e be doing ’ere in the stables at this time of night?” “Oh, nothing,” says she to me, “I thought I saw him come in here. I must have been mistaken. Never mind, Cockram; it’s all right. Good night.”

  “‘I said good night, too, and then fell to wondering what Mr ’Arold could have wanted prowling round the stables at this hour of the night. Just then the clock of St Saviour’s struck four o’clock, and while I was still wondering I fell asleep again, and never awoke until six, when the mare was as sick as she could be. And that’s the whole truth, gentlemen; and I would never have spoke – for Mr and Mrs Keeson have always been good to me, and I’d have done anything to save them the disgrace – but Alice is goin’ to be my wife, and I couldn’t bear any shame to rest upon ’er.’

  “When Cockram had finished speaking you might have heard a pin drop as Major Laverton asked Mrs Keeson to step into the witness-box. She looked fragile and pale, but otherwise quite self-possessed as she quietly kissed the book and said in a very firm tone of voice:

  “‘I can only say in reply to the extraordinary story which this man has just told that the drug in the beer must have given him peculiarly vivid dreams. At the hour he names I was in bed fast asleep, as my husband can testify; and the whole of Cockram’s narrative is a fabrication from beginning to end. I may add that I am more than willing to forgive him. No doubt his brain was clouded by the opiate; and now he is beside himself owing to Alice Image’s predicament. As for my son Harold, he was absent from home that night; he was spending it with some bachelor friends at the Stag and Mantle hotel in Newmarket.’

  “‘Yes! By the way,’ said the magistrate, ‘where is Mr Harold Keeson? I have no doubt that he will be able to give a very good account of himself on that memorable night.’

  “‘My son is abroad, your worship,’ said Mrs Keeson, while a shade of a still more livid hue passed over her face.

  “‘Abroad, is he?’ said the magistrate cheerfully. ‘Well, that settles the point satisfactorily for him, doesn’t it? When did he go?’

  “‘Last Thursday, your worship,’ replied Mrs Keeson.

  “Then there was silence again in the court, for that last Thursday was the day of the Coronation Stakes – the day immediately following the memorable night on which the mare Cigarette had been poisoned by an unknown hand.”

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  “I doubt whether in all the annals of criminal procedure there ever occurred a more dramatic moment than that when so strange a ray of daylight was shed on the mysterious outrage on Cigarette. The magistrate, having dismissed Mrs Keeson, hardly dared to look across at the trainer, who was a personal friend of his, and who had just received such a cruel blow through this terrible charge against his only son – for at that moment I doubt if there were two people in that court who did not think that Mrs Keeson had just sworn a false oath, and that both she and her son had been in the stables that night – for what purpose only they and their own conscience could tell.

  “Alice Image and Charles Palk were both discharged; and it is greatly to the credit of Cockram that in the midst of his joy in seeing his sweetheart safe he still remained very gloomy and upset. As for Mr Keeson, he must have suffered terribly at all this mud cast at his only son. He had been wounded in what he worshipped more than anything else in the world – his family honour. What was the use of money and the old estates if such a stain rested upon his name?
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  “As for Mrs Keeson, public sympathy was very much overshadowed with contempt for her stupidity. Had she only held her tongue when Cockram challenged her, suspicion would never have fastened upon Harold. The fact that she had lied in the witness-box in order to try and remedy her blunder was also very severely commented upon. The young man had gone abroad on that memorable Thursday accompanied by two of his bachelor friends. They had gone on a fishing expedition to Norway, and were not expected home for three weeks. As they meant to move from place to place they had left no address: letters and telegrams were therefore useless.

  “During those three weeks pending Harold Keeson’s return certain facts leaked out which did not tend to improve his case. It appears that he had long been in love with Lady Agnes Stourcliffe, the daughter of the Earl of Okehampton. Some people asserted that the young people were actually – though secretly – engaged. The Earl, however, seems all along to have objected to the marriage of his daughter with the son of a trainer, and on more than one occasion had remarked that he had not sunk quite so low yet as to allow so preposterous a mésalliance. Mr Keeson, whose family pride was at least equal to that of the Earl, had naturally very much resented this attitude, and had often begged his son to give up his pretensions, since they were manifestly so unwelcome.

  “Harold Keeson, however, was deeply in love; and Lady Agnes stuck to him with womanly constancy and devotion. Unfortunately a climax was reached some days before the disastrous events at Newmarket. The Earl of Okehampton suddenly took up a very firm stand on the subject of Harold Keeson’s courtship of his daughter. Some hot words were exchanged between the two men, ending in an open breach, the Earl positively forbidding the young man ever to enter his house again.