Mr. American

by George MacDonald Fraser

  'Did she attempt to prevent you by force? Did she simply impede you, or did she offer to strike you?'

  This was the vital question and he had to answer carefully. 'She was holding a parasol, in such a way that I might have run onto it. I grabbed it from her, and she drew back and shouted some slogan. Then the attendant caught hold of her and pulled her away.'

  'Did she not attempt to strike you with the parasol?'

  Mr Franklin permitted himself the hint of a smile. 'I can't say what she might have done if there had been more time. As it was, things happened very quickly. I saw the parasol in her hands, and without thinking, I suppose, snatched it away from her. She certainly didn't attempt to recover it; indeed, she took a step away.'

  It was as far as he could go, in honesty. Mr Lees's lips tightened. 'Other witnesses will say that they saw her strike violently at you with the parasol - at your head. If that were so, you must surely have been aware of it?'

  'It happened very quickly, sir, as I said. As I was moving towards her, she may have raised the parasol, drawing it back from me. I don't know. Then I was very close to her, and I wrenched the parasol away -

  'So presumably you thought she was going to strike you? Other people say they saw her actually swing the parasol at your face.'

  'I can't speak for them,' said Mr Franklin firmly. 'I know she certainly did not hit me, with that or anything else. Whatever she intended, I had the parasol away from her too fast for her to do anything. She was blocking my way, and I wanted to get past her quickly.'

  It was fairly plain that Mr Lees was not going to get the admission he wanted. He paused and changed his ground.

  'But she has struck you, on a previous occasion, has she not?'

  He had not expected it, but Mr Franklin did not hesitate.

  'Yes, sir. In September, 1909, she was selling suffragette literature outside the Waldorf Hotel. I was new to the country then, and I'm afraid I unintentionally offended her. She slapped my face, after I had declined to buy her papers.'

  There was a buzz in the court, and on the press bench there was a sudden outburst of shorthand.

  'I see. So whatever her behaviour at the Royal Academy, you knew she was given to violence - she had indeed assaulted you on a previous occasion?'

  'Yes, sir. Possibly that was why I moved so nimbly in the gallery.'

  There was a ripple of laughter from the public benches. Mr Lees looked hard at the witness, but said nothing. To his left, Mr Franklin could feel Lady Helen watching him; he glanced towards her, and she looked away, her face expressionless. Mr Lees changed his tack again.

  'During all this nimble activity on your part, in which you disarmed the defendant of her parasol for no reason, since you had no cause, apparently, to suppose she was going to strike you with it - ' Mr Franklin made a mental note that one shouldn't assume that one had ever got the better of an English barrister ' - while you were engaged in this unnecessary exercise, did you have leisure to observe what was happening to Miss Delys?'

  'I saw her grapple with the woman with the hatchet and they fell down on the floor.'

  'She grappled with the defendant Shore, who had the hatchet, and was wielding it. Did Shore attempt to strike Miss Delys with the hatchet?'

  'Not that I saw. No.'

  Mr Lees sat down, and the hawk-nosed barrister arose and looked blandly at Mr Franklin, as man to man.

  'Mr Franklin, you have told us what happened at the Royal Academy, very fairly, I believe. And at the prompting of my learned friend, you have described how Lady Helen Cessford assaulted you outside the Waldorf Hotel.' No mincing of words, straightforward stuff. 'I wonder would you tell the jury precisely why she slapped your face on that occasion.' His smile was sympathetic.

  'As I said, I was new to England. I was foolish enough to make a joke about ... about the sale of suffragette papers. Lady Helen was offended.'

  'I see. But I gather that you were not so violently assaulted that you took grave exception to it? There was no question of a charge - anything of that nature?'

  'It wouldn't have crossed my mind,' said Mr Franklin, but he forebore to mention the policeman.

  'So - we have heard of two of your encounters with my client. But I understand that you have met her on other occasions also?'

  'We've met socially - yes.'

  'Where, Mr Franklin?'

  'At Sandringham House, Norfolk.'

  There was an instant murmur in the court, and counsel repeated: 'Yes, at Sandringham - '

  'Where, Sir Huntly?' said the judge.

  'Sandringham House, m'lud, the -'

  `Where's that?' demanded the judge.

  'In Norfolk, m'lud.'

  'Ah. Norfolk. Very well.'

  Sir Huntly sighed, and said loudly: 'You met at Sandringham, where you were the guests of his late Majesty King Edward, and of Queen Alexandra?'

  'Yes, sir. Christmas, 1909.'

  'So you know my client well?'

  'Not well, sir. We're acquainted.'

  'But you conversed with her - talked in friendly terms? The customary exchanges between fellow guests.' 'Yes, sir.'

  'I see. But you are not close friends, although both of you were honoured by the friendship of their majesties.' Having established that, for what he conceived it to be worth in the eyes of a middle-class jury who presumably loved a lord (and equally, a lady), Sir Huntly reluctantly turned to weightier matters. 'Mr Franklin, I will not trespass further on your time, or on the time of the gentlemen of the jury. We have heard you tell my learned friend of the unhappy events which befell at the Royal Academy. I believe these gentlemen will agree with me - ' Sir Huntly invited the jury into intellectual fellowship' - that you gave your evidence with admirable clarity and good sense. Nothing could be fairer. I will confine myself to one question, the all-important question to my client. She is charged with assault - upon you. Mr Franklin, did she assault you?'

  'No, sir.'

  'Thank you, Mr Franklin.'

  Sir Huntly smiled and sat down. Mr Lees smiled and stood up.

  'One last question on my side. She did not assault you, you say. You may not be entirely clear on the legal meaning of assault. Did she offer to strike you?'

  'By offer,' said Mr Franklin slowly, 'you mean did she intend - ' 'No, not precisely. Did she make as though to strike you - was she on the point of striking you?'

  'M'lud,' interposed Sir Huntly with weary tolerance, 'I do believe the witness has already answered the question to the very best of his ability - '

  'Indeed, Sir Huntly. I am inclined to agree, Mr Lees, that you covered the point thoroughly in your examination.'

  'As your lordship pleases.' Mr Lees bowed. 'I had thought that the witness had avoided answering the question to the best of his ability.

  But if I may touch on a point raised by my learned friend.' He turned to the witness box. 'Mr Franklin, you have told us that while you are not a close friend, especially, of the defendant Cessford, you are acquainted with her on social terms - Sandringham, and so forth. You are both accustomed to move in the highest station of society?'

  Mr Franklin was far from sure that Lady Helen would be flattered by the association, but he replied carefully: 'Yes, sir.'

  'I see. Now, despite the fact that she has assaulted you once, and - ' Mr Lees paused for effect ' - shall we say for the moment has rather strenuously impeded you (it will be for the jury to decide whether a stronger term is applicable) in the present instance - despite this, and the fact that you say - 'there was just the barest emphasis on the two words' - that there is no special intimacy between you, am I right in suggesting that your feelings towards her are those natural from a gentleman towards a lady in that exalted circle to which you both belong?'

  Not quite how Mr Franklin would have put it, but he could only say: 'I hope so, sir,' and trust it didn't sound too pompous.

  'From a gentleman to a lady,' continued Mr Lees, 'in distress?'

  'I don't quite follow,' said Mr Franklin, and
Mr Lees shrugged expressively.

  'The lady is in the dock, Mr Franklin. A distressing position, you will allow. And I am sure you feel keenly for her in that unhappy situation, do you not?'

  'I'm sorry to see her there, of course.'

  'Of course. You feel that natural sympathy - chivalry might not be too strong a term - which a man of sensibility must feel for her. The more so since you both move in a class,' Mr Lees went on relentlessly,

  'which must view her predicament with peculiar abhorrence, and would do anything consistent with honour to alleviate it?'

  Mr Franklin, pressed, gave as neutral a reply as possible. 'Very well, sir.

  Mr Lees became brusquely frank. 'Come, come, sir - can you deny that it has been most painful to you to give evidence today? That while you have given it, as you believe, truthfully, your sense of loyalty to one of your own kind has revolted at the thought that your words might tell against her? That you have felt obliged to give her the benefit of every doubt?' Mr Lees threw back his head. 'Can you deny that you would most gladly see Lady Helen Cessford acquitted of the charge on which you have done your best to defend her?'

  Sir Huntly's protests, drowned by Mr Lees' peroration, broke through in an indignant squawk, the judge rebuked the prosecution, Mr Lees apologised and withdrew the question, the jury looked knowingly from witness to defendant, and the former member of the Wild Bunch, saddled with the ideals and principles which Mr Lees had so generously thrust upon him, was allowed to stand down. He took a seat on the public benches, at a safe distance from General Flashman, who had viewed the prosecutor's performance with the approving eye of a connoisseur of the art of humbug.

  Miss Priscilla Delys was called, and tripped demurely to the witness box, where she took the oath in a breathless little voice which Mr Franklin guessed had been carefully rehearsed. The judge told her gently to speak up a little, Miss Delys turned in the box to regard him with unbounded awe, and his lordship smiled paternally. Mr Lees elicited from her that she was a revue artiste, witness implying by her tone and manner that the decorum of her stage performance would have done credit to a morality play; she had also appeared in musical comedy and pantomime, and was a professional artist's model -

  'What did you play in pantomime?' asked the judge with kindly interest.

  'Dandini, my lord,' said Pip gravely, and the judge said, 'Ah, yes, in Cinderella, I think,' and nodded wisely. Pip gave him her first shy smile, and then agreed carefully with Mr Lees that she had been at the Royal Academy on May 18. Alone? No, she had been accompanied by Mr Franklin, the first witness - the jury regarded him with respectful envy while Mr Franklin sighed inwardly; his own evidence had not been quite so specific. Mr Lees invited her to describe what had taken place, and Pip drew herself up, took a deep breath which caused the jury to become even more attentive, and complied.

  She did it extremely well, in a quiet, modulated voice, without smiling; while looking quite astonishingly pretty she seemed to be entirely unaware of the fact, which was as unlike Pip as Mr Franklin could imagine. Modesty, he decided, was obviously her watchword of the day.

  'Now, you saw the defendant Shore begin to deface the picture, you say. Tell us about that.'

  'Well, my lord, I was so shocked that for a moment I couldn't move, and then Mr Franklin ran forward to try to stop her, but someone bumped into him, you see, and - '

  'Speak to the jury, not to me,' said the judge, not without regret.

  'Oh, I beg your pardon. Well, then, when I saw her hacking at the painting, I called out to her to stop, but she just went on cutting at it, and it was shocking to see, so I just ran at her and tried to catch hold of her hand, but I - '

  'The hand that was wielding the cleaver?' asked Mr Lees.

  'What? Oh, yes, but I couldn't catch it, and it nearly hit me - '

  'What did? The cleaver?'

  'Yes. It just missed my fingers.' Pip held up a small grey-gloved hand, and even Mr Lees winced. 'So I pushed at her, and she fell over, and I tumbled on top of her, and we landed on the floor.'

  'And then what did you do?'

  'Well, nothing, you see. I just wanted to stop her spoiling the picture, and when she fell, of course, that stopped her. It was a dreadful mess, with a great piece of canvas hanging down. I couldn't bear to look at it.'

  Don't overdo it, thought Mr Franklin, but Pip had weighed her audience to a nicety, and although not a soul in court realised it, she had calculated carefully how to give her evidence with the maximum of credit to herself and the minimum of damage to Millicent Shore. At the moment she had the jury furrowing their brows in sympathy, and Mr Lees was nodding solemnly.

  'I see. Now, Miss Delys, there is a point on which I want you to answer very carefully indeed. When you tried to stop the defendant striking the picture, you say you tried to catch her hand, and the cleaver just missed you.' Mr Lees signed to a constable who picked up the cleaver from the clerk's table and passed it to him. Mr Lees weighed it in his hand, and turned it so that the ugly, glittering blade caught the light.

  'Is this the weapon, Miss Delys?' Pip nodded, wide-eyed. 'I don't wish to distress you, but I'm sure you are aware that it could have injured you very seriously.'

  Pip said in a small voice: 'I didn't think of that,' and the jury would have laid down their collective life for her.

  'Well, that does you great credit. But tell me - you came at her from the side, and caught at her hand. Was she in the act of striking the picture?'

  'Yes, sir. She had her hand up, like this - ' Pip raised her hand above shoulder level ' - and as she struck, I grabbed and missed.'

  'I see. Did the cleaver then strike the picture?'

  Pip frowned. 'No, sir, it missed, too. It went sort of sideways, but it didn't hit anything.'

  'It went sideways. It went towards you, in fact?'

  'Well - sort of, yes.'

  'Miss Delys, I know it is difficult for you to say exactly, because in a struggle of that kind everything is confused, but is it possible that the cleaver was aimed at you?'

  Pip might have been expected to widen her eyes and look like a stricken fawn, but she reacted quite otherwise. She shook her head firmly and said: 'Oh, no. It wasn't, I'm sure.'

  'Well,' said Mr Lees, hiding his disappointment, 'you may not like to think it was aimed at you, but some of the people watching will say they believe it was. Are you certain you were in a position to judge?'

  'Oh, yes,' said Pip confidently. 'You see, she was trying to hit the picture - she never even saw me until I grabbed at her, just as she was letting fly. She's very small, you know, and my snatching at her spoiled her aim and put her off balance, so that the axe thing missed the picture. But it was just an accident that it swung near my hand, which was stretched out. I know she wasn't trying to hit me, because she wasn't looking at me, you see; when she started to swing the thing, she didn't even know I was there, I'm sure.'

  It was comprehensive, and Mr Lees may have wondered sadly what he had done to deserve such articulately unco-operative witnesses. However, he had not earned his silk for nothing, and he was an even more practised public performer than Pip herself; he made one or two further attempts, in a disarmingly gentle manner, to induce her to admit that the cleaver might have been aimed at her, and then said:

  'I've no doubt, Miss Delys, that you were considerably upset by the incident, and it reflects great credit on you that you acted as promptly and bravely as you did. Many young ladies would have been quite incapable of moving - I believe one woman at the scene fainted, did she not? Well, well. But you were not at all flustered when you tried to stop the defendant Shore? Were you?'