XXVIII. THE COURT OF ASSIZE
"Call Lady Beltham!"
It was a perfect May day, and everyone who could pretend, on anyconceivable ground, to belong to "Paris" had schemed and intrigued toobtain admission to a trial over which public opinion had been excitedfor months: the trial of Gurn for the murder of Lord Beltham,ex-Ambassador and foremost man of fashion, whose murder, two yearsbefore, had caused a great sensation.
The preliminary formalities of the trial had furnished nothing to ticklethe palates of the sensation-loving crowd. The indictment had beenalmost inaudible, and, besides, it contained nothing that had notalready been made public by the Press. Nor had the examination of theprisoner been any more interesting; Gurn sat, strangely impassive, inthe dock between two municipal guards, and hardly listened to hiscounsel, the eminent Maitre Barberoux, who was assisted by a galaxy ofjuniors, including young Roger de Seras. Moreover, Gurn had franklyconfessed his guilt almost immediately after his arrest. There was notmuch for him to add to what he had said before, although the Presidentof the Court pressed him as to some points which were still notsatisfactorily clear with respect to his own identity, and the motiveswhich had prompted him to commit his crime, and, subsequently, to paythat most risky visit to Lady Beltham, at the close of which Juve hadeffected his arrest.
But Lady Beltham's evidence promised to be much more interesting. Rumourhad been busy for a long time with the great lady and her feelings, andodd stories were being whispered. She was said to be beautiful, wealthyand charitable; people said, under their breath, that she must know agood deal about the murder of her spouse, and when she made herappearance in the box a sudden hush fell upon the crowded court. Shewas, indeed, a most appealing figure, robed in long black weeds, young,graceful, and very pale, so sympathetic a figure that scandal wasforgotten in the general tense desire to hear her answers to thePresident of the Court.
Following the usher to the witness-box, she took off her gloves asdesired, and, in a voice that trembled slightly but was beautifullymodulated, repeated the words of the oath, with her right hand raisedthe while. Noticing her agitation, the President mitigated somewhat theharshness of the tone in which he generally spoke to witnesses.
"Pray compose yourself, madame. I am sorry to be obliged to subject youto this examination, but the interests of Justice require it. Come now:you are Lady Beltham, widow of the late Lord Beltham, of Englishnationality, residing in Paris, at your own house in Neuilly?"
"Yes."
"Will you kindly turn round, madame, and tell me if you know theprisoner in the dock?"
Lady Beltham obeyed mechanically; she glanced at Gurn, who paled alittle, and answered the President.
"Yes, I know the prisoner; his name is Gurn."
"Very good, madame. Can you tell me first of all how you came to beacquainted with him?"
"When my husband was in South Africa, at the time of the Boer War, Gurnwas a sergeant in the regular army. It was then that I first met him."
"Did you know him well at that time?"
Lady Beltham seemed to be unable to prevent herself from casting longglances at the prisoner; she appeared to be almost hypnotised andfrightened by his close proximity.
"I saw very little of Gurn in the Transvaal," she answered. "It was justby chance that I learned his name, but of course the difference betweenhis own rank and my husband's position made the relations that I couldhave with a mere sergeant very limited indeed."
"Yes, Gurn was a sergeant," the President said. "And after the war,madame, did you see the prisoner again?"
"Yes, immediately after the war; my husband and I went to England by thesame boat on which Gurn went home."
"Did you see much of him on board?"
"No; we were first-class passengers, and he, I believe, went second. Itwas just by accident that my husband caught sight of him soon after theboat sailed."
The President paused and made a note.
"Were those all the relations your husband had with the prisoner?"
"They are at any rate all the relations I had with him," Lady Belthamreplied in tones of some distress; "but I know that my husband employedGurn on several occasions, to help him in various affairs and matters ofbusiness."
"Thank you," said the President; "we will return to that pointpresently. Meanwhile there is one question I should like to ask you. Ifyou had met the prisoner in the street a few months ago, should you haverecognised him? Was his face still distinct in your memory, or had itbecome blurred and vague?"
Lady Beltham hesitated, then answered confidently.
"I am sure I should not have recognised him; and some proof of this is,that just before his arrest was effected I was conversing with theprisoner for several minutes, without having the faintest idea that thepoor man with whom I imagined I had to do was no other than the man Gurnfor whom the police were looking."
The President nodded, and Maitre Barberoux leaned forward and spokeeagerly to his client in the dock. But the President continuedimmediately.
"You must forgive me, madame, for putting a question that may seemrather brutal, and also for reminding you of your oath to tell us theentire truth. Did you love your husband?"
Lady Beltham quivered and was silent for a moment, as thoughendeavouring to frame a right answer.
"Lord Beltham was much older than myself----," she began, and then,perceiving the meaning implicit in her words, she added: "I had the veryhighest esteem for him, and a very real affection."
A cynical smile curled the lip of the President, and he glanced at thejury as though asking them to pay still closer attention.
"Do you know why I put that question to you?" he asked, and as LadyBeltham confessed her ignorance he went on: "It has been suggested,madame, by a rumour which is very generally current in the newspapersand among people generally, that the prisoner may possibly have beengreatly enamoured of you: that perhaps--well, is there any truth inthis?"
As he spoke the President bent forward, and his eyes seemed to pierceright through Lady Beltham.
"It is a wicked calumny," she protested, turning very pale.
Throughout the proceedings Gurn had been sitting in an attitude ofabsolute indifference, almost of scorn; but now he rose to his feet anduttered a defiant protest.
"Sir," he said to the President of the Court, "I desire to say publiclyhere that I have the most profound and unalterable respect for LadyBeltham. Anyone who has given currency to the malignant rumour you referto, is a liar. I have confessed that I killed Lord Beltham, and I do notretract that confession, but I never made any attempt upon his honour,and no word, nor look, nor deed has ever passed between Lady Beltham andmyself, that might not have passed before Lord Beltham's own eyes."
The President looked sharply at the prisoner.
"Then tell me what your motive was in murdering your victim."
"I have told you already! Lady Beltham is not to be implicated in mydeed in any way! I had constant business dealings with Lord Beltham; Iasked him, over the telephone, to come to my place one day. He came. Wehad an animated discussion; he got warm and I answered angrily; then Ilost control of myself and in a moment of madness I killed him! I amprofoundly sorry for my crime and stoop to crave pardon for it; but Icannot tolerate the suggestion that the murder I committed was in theremotest way due to sentimental relations with a lady who is, I repeat,entitled to the very highest respect from the whole world."
A murmur of sympathy ran through the court at this chivalrousdeclaration, by which the jury, who had not missed a word, seemed to beentirely convinced. But the President was trained to track truth indetail, and he turned again to Lady Beltham who still stood in thewitness-box, very pale, and swaying with distress.
"You must forgive me if I attach no importance to a mere assertion,madame. The existence of some relations between yourself and theprisoner, which delicacy would prompt him to conceal, and honour wouldcompel you to deny, would alter the whole aspect of this case." Heturned to the usher. "Recall Mme. Doule
nques, please."
Mme. Doulenques considered it a tremendous honour to be called aswitness in a trial with which the press was ringing, and wasparticularly excited because she had just been requested to pose for herphotograph by a representative of her own favourite paper. She followedthe usher to where Lady Beltham stood.
"You told us just now, Mme. Doulenques," the President said suavely,"that your lodger, Gurn, often received visits from a lady friend. Youalso said that if this lady were placed before you, you would certainlyrecognise her. Now will you kindly look at the lady in the box: is thisthe same person?"
Mme. Doulenques, crimson with excitement, and nervously twisting in herhands a huge pair of white gloves which she had bought for thisoccasion, looked curiously at Lady Beltham.
"Upon my word I can't be sure that this is the lady," she said afterquite a long pause.
"But you were so certain of your facts just now," the President smiledencouragingly.
"But I can't see the lady very well, with all those veils on," Mme.Doulenques protested.
Lady Beltham did not wait for the request which the President wouldinevitably have made, but haughtily put back her veil.
"Do you recognise me now?" she said coldly.
The scorn in her tone upset Mme. Doulenques. She looked again at LadyBeltham and turned instinctively as if to ask enlightenment from Gurn,whose face, however, was expressionless, and then replied:
"It's just what I told you before, your worship: I can't be sure; Icouldn't swear to it."
"But you think she is?"
"You know, your worship," Mme. Doulenques protested, "I took an oathjust now to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth; so I don't wantto tell any stories; well, this lady might be the same lady, and againshe mightn't be."
"In other words, you cannot give a definite answer."
"That's it," said the concierge. "I don't know; I can't swear. This ladyis like the other lady--there's a sort of family likeness betweenthem----, but at the moment I do not exactly recognise her; it's muchtoo serious!"
Mme. Doulenques would willingly have continued to give evidence for everand a day, but the President cut her short.
"Very well; thank you," he said, and dismissed her with the usher,turning again meanwhile to Lady Beltham.
"Will you kindly tell me now what your personal opinion is as to therelative culpability of the prisoner? Of course you understand that hehas confessed to the crime, and your answer will bear chiefly on themotive that may have actuated him."
Lady Beltham appeared to have recovered some of her confidence.
"I cannot say anything definite, can only express a very vague feelingabout the matter. I know my husband was quick-tempered, veryquick-tempered, and even violent; and his peremptory temper predisposedhim to positive convictions. He maintained what he considered his rightsat all times and against all comers; if, as the prisoner says, there wasa heated discussion, I should not be surprised if my husband did makeuse of arguments that might have provoked anger."
The President gently gave a clearer turn to the phrase she used.
"So, in your opinion, the prisoner's version of the story is quitepermissible? You admit that Lord Beltham and his murderer may have had aheated discussion, as a consequence of which Gurn committed this crime?That is your honest belief?"
"Yes," Lady Beltham answered, trying to control her voice; "I believethat that may be what took place. And then, it is the only way in whichI can find the least excuse for the crime this man Gurn committed."
The President picked up the word, in astonishment.
"Do you want to find excuses for him, madame?"
Lady Beltham stood erect, and looked at the President.
"It is written that to pardon is the first duty of good Christians. Itis true that I have mourned my husband, but the punishment of hismurderer will not dry my tears; I ought to forgive him, bow beneath theburden that is laid upon my soul: and I do forgive him!"
Ghastly pale, Gurn was staring at Lady Beltham from the dock; and thistime his emotion was so visible that all the jury noticed it. ThePresident held a brief colloquy with his colleagues, asked theprisoner's counsel whether he desired to put any questions to thewitness, and, receiving a reply in the negative, dismissed Lady Belthamwith a word of thanks, and announced that the Court would adjourn.
Immediately a hum of conversation broke out in the warm and sunny court;barristers in their robes moved from group to group, criticising,explaining, prophesying; and in their seats the world of beauty andfashion bowed and smiled and gossiped.
"She's uncommonly pretty, this Lady Beltham," one young lawyer said,"and she's got a way of answering questions without compromisingherself, and yet without throwing blame on the prisoner, that isuncommonly clever."
"You are all alike, you men," said a pretty, perfectly dressed woman inmocking tones; "if a woman is young, and hasn't got a hump on her back,and has a charming voice, your sympathies are with her at once! Oh, yes,they are! Now shall I tell you what your Lady Beltham really is? Well,she is nothing more nor less than a barnstormer! She knew well enoughhow to get on the soft side of the judge, who was quite ridiculouslyamiable to her, and to capture the sympathy of the Court. I think it wasoutrageous to declare that she had married a man who was too old forher, and to say that she felt nothing but esteem for him!"
"There's an admission!" the young barrister laughed. "_Vive l'amour_,eh? And _mariages de convenance_ are played out, eh?"
On another bench a little further away, a clean-shaven man with a highlyintelligent face was talking animatedly.
"Bosh! Your Lady Beltham is anything you like: what do I care for LadyBeltham? I shall never play women's parts, shall I? She does not standfor anything. But Gurn, now! There's a type, if you like! What aninteresting, characteristic face! He has the head of the assassin ofgenius, with perfect mastery of self, implacable, cruel, malignant, aTorquemada of a man!"
"Your enthusiasm is running away with you," someone laughed.
"I don't care! It is so seldom one comes across figures in a city thatreally are figures, entities. That man is not an assassin: he is TheAssassin--the Type!"
Two ladies, sitting close to this enthusiast, had been listening keenlyto this diatribe.
"Do you know who that is?" one whispered to the other. "That isValgrand, the actor," and they turned their lorgnettes on the actor whowas waxing more animated every moment.
A bell rang, and, heralded by the usher proclaiming silence, the judgesreturned to the bench and the jury to their box. The President cast aneagle eye over the court, compelling silence, and then resumed theproceedings.
"Next witness: call M. Juve!"