‘I wouldn’t build on it,’ Elsie said.
‘I am building on it. I pray for Patrick, and that’s the test. If Patrick doesn’t get off, I don’t believe in God.’
‘Patrick hasn’t much chance, with the statement he made to the police against him.’
‘He was half in a trance when he made that statement. There’s a police officer that’s got an influence on Patrick, and he talked him into it. Patrick was just out of a trance.’
‘The jury won’t know what a trance is.’
‘They’ll learn.’
‘There’s a prejudice against spiritualism,’ Elsie said.
‘Oh, can’t you look on the bright side, Elsie?’
‘I don’t know what’s bright about you having Patrick wearing you down for the rest of your life.’
‘Well, he’s my choice, Elsie.’
‘I know that. I’m afraid for you.’
‘Don’t be afraid for me. And you needn’t be afraid for Patrick either, now that Father Socket’s come forward to speak for him. There’s no denying the impression Father Socket makes on people.’
‘Father Socket?’ Elsie said. ‘He’s against Patrick. He was in with Mike Garland. A couple of those.’
‘There’s been a rift. Garland is in trouble with the police and let Father Socket down. So Father Socket has come in with Patrick now. It’s going to be all right, I feel it. Father Socket was with Patrick on the morning of the twelfth of August, and he saw Patrick in a trance just before the police came—”
‘Twelfth of August was my birthday,’ Elsie said.
‘So it was. Well, that was the day that Patrick made the statement. But everything’s all right now.’
‘I don’t see you need to pray for Patrick if you’re so sure of that.’
‘It’s a test of God,’ said Alice.
Elsie telephoned from Victoria Station to Ronald. ‘I’ve got to see you. It’s about the evidence for Patrick Seton. Father Socket is going to give false evidence. I’ve got to see you.’
‘Father who?’
‘That Father I told you about, that let me down.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Well, he’s going to say that on the morning of twelfth of August — which was my birthday and I had the day off — he’s going to swear—”
‘Look,’ said Ronald, ‘I’m not the police.’
‘Can’t I tell you? I’d rather give you the story.’
‘It’s not my business. Go straight to the police station. Ask for Detective-Inspector Fergusson. Have you any evidence?’
‘No, only my word.’
‘Well, it’s as good as Socket’s. Go and see Mr. Fergusson.’
‘I’ll ring and tell you what he says.’
‘No need to,’ Ronald said. ‘It’s not my business.’
‘Then I don’t know if I shall bother,’ Elsie said. ‘It’s not my business either.’
Marlene was on the night train to Scotland.
‘I’m very sorry, Patrick,’ she had said, standing at the door of her flat, her baggage packed and visible in the hall behind her, keeping him out. ‘Very sorry indeed. But on consideration I simply must safeguard my reputation for the sake of the Circle. Nothing has changed, my feelings are the same, but on consideration I can’t give evidence. And as it happens I’ve been called away urgently. You have Father Socket. I am no loss.’
She thought, now, perhaps she had been hard on Tim. It had been well-meaning of him to telephone to her.
‘I say, Marlene, do keep out of the Seton case. You’ll be charged with suborning, Marlene dear. The police may be on the alert for suborners, Ronald Bridges gave me the tip.’
‘What is suborning?’
‘Conspiracy. Cooking up evidence in a law case beforehand.’
‘There has been no cooking up on my part. There is no contrary proof whatsoever. There—’
‘It’s a criminal offence, Marlene dear, you might go to Holloway prison. I should hate—”
‘You beastly little fellow. You snivelling…’
She had hung up the receiver in the middle of his protests. All the same, on consideration…
The train to Dundee was a rocky one. She stood up in her bunk and tried to adjust the air-conditioning equipment of the sleeping compartment, but failed. She pressed the bell. No-one came. She wondered if Patrick might have some spiritual power over her, even in Scotland. She could not sleep.
‘The key,’ said Dr. Lyte miserably, handing Patrick the key.
‘A month’s supply of insulin,’ he said, handing Patrick the prescription. ‘When will you be going?’
‘The day after the trial. Alice is upset, you know. Very depressed. She needs the holiday.’
‘I’ll be seeing you in court then tomorrow, Mr. Fergusson.’
‘Yes, Patrick. Be there at quarter past ten.’
‘If I get off, Mr. Fergusson, I may have some news for you.’
‘Let’s have your information now, then, Patrick.’
‘I’d rather wait and see if I get off.’
‘Your news wouldn’t be about Socket, would it?’
‘I’d rather not say, Mr. Fergusson.’
‘We need information about Socket. I don’t mind admitting it,’ said Fergusson.
‘That statement I signed in August — you’ll be using it in court?’ Patrick said.
‘Yes, Patrick. We can’t let you get away with that, I’m afraid. You’ve been useful to us, but a statement’s a statement. It’s filed.’
‘You got me in a weak moment when I gave you that statement,’ Patrick whispered. ‘I was upset, you remember, Mr. Fergusson—” He looked at the broad shoulders and did not want ever to have to leave the chair in which he sat contemplating them, and go out into the streets again.
‘I have no recollection,’ said Fergusson, ‘that you were upset.’
‘Don’t you remember, I was all shaken up that morning?’
‘Yes, Patrick, I know that. But as far as the law is concerned I have no recollection.’
‘There’s the question of the letter,’ Patrick said.
‘It was foolish of you to go and forge that letter. Another couple of years on your sentence at least.’
‘Our expert is convinced the letter’s genuine,’ Patrick mumbled.
‘Our expert isn’t,” said Fergusson.
Patrick wrenched himself away. But when he had plunged out into the street again, he felt better, and considering the chances, was confident of his release, so that he did not give thought to the matter again that day, but thought of Alice.
Chapter XII
FROM time to time throughout the trial, Patrick Seton sat in the dock visualizing, with fretful eagerness, Alice as she should lie on the mountainside, crumpled up, overdosed with insulin; the liberation of Alice’s spirit was so imminent, it was like a sunny radiance to distract his understanding from the proceedings of the court.
When the time came for him to speak, he was lucid and calm and clear-voiced. Alice had never heard him speak so clearly, she was astonished.
‘His voice has changed, hasn’t it?’ she whispered to Matthew, up in the public gallery.
‘I don’t know,’ Matthew said. ‘How should I know what his voice is like?’
‘I think he must be making a special effort,’ Alice whispered. ‘He feels a strong clear voice is called for.’
‘Don’t talk. I want to listen,’ Matthew said, ‘to this bit.’
‘He’s doing well, isn’t he?’ said Alice. ‘After the mess they made of the Prosecution case this morning—’
‘Don’t talk,’ Matthew said, leaning over the rail of the gallery. ‘I want to listen.’
‘I do think,’ Alice said, ‘that Elsie might have come.’
Ronald walked through the late night streets, recovering his strength. He had spent the day in court. He had been the third witness for the Prosecution.
‘Have you ever in your life made a mistake?’ said the Defence Counsel
in his cross-examination.
‘Yes,’ said Ronald.
‘This couldn’t be one of them?’
‘I have never, so far as I know, made a mistake in a case of forgery.’
‘So far as you know. Thank you, Mr. Bridges. —Oh, oh…’
‘Oh!’ said the whole world at once, ‘what’s happened? He’s falling, fainting.’
Ronald had put on his best dark suit for the occasion. He had arrived at the Criminal Court at ten minutes past ten. He had never before seen Martin Bowles in his wig and gown in court; it was an amazing sight. Martin had become instantly wise, unimpeachable. Once, at Isobel Billows’, she having found Martin’s wig at the back of his car and brought it into the house, Ronald had seen her try it on and, watching herself in the rather dim gilt-framed looking-glass, recite,
‘The quality of mercy is not strained…’
‘They always say that,’ said Martin. ‘Women, when they try on a lawyer’s wig, always do that.’
The case opened at half past ten. Hugh Farmer, Counsel for the Defence, lolled back against the bench, sometimes whispering to his pupil behind him while the indictment was read for the second time. He was thinking of his elder daughter, at that moment taking her most important examination in music.
‘Fraudulent conversion… forgery… Mrs. Freda Flower.’
Martin Bowles got up to open the case for the Prosecution. Hugh Farmer watched him respectfully as Martin gave small reasonable waves of his hand, with upturned palm, towards the jury.
‘Detective-Inspector Fergusson will read you a statement made and signed by the accused …
‘Mrs. Freda Flower will tell you…
‘I will call an expert in the detection of forgery who will give evidence on the count of…’
Now Fergusson was in the witness box, not in uniform. He took his oath. He read Patrick’s statement: ‘… I was tempted, and fell. The cheque was for premium and defence bonds. Mrs. Flower asked me to obtain them for her. She felt they were safer with me. I did not buy the bonds. I do not know where the money has gone. I have read this over…’
Hugh Farmer got up to cross-examine.
‘Mr. Fergusson, when you saw Mr. Seton on the afternoon of 12th August, the day on which you say he made this statement, did you notice anything peculiar about him?’
‘Nothing whatsoever,’ said Fergusson.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely certain,’ said Fergusson.
‘Nothing about the eyes? No slight foaming at the mouth?’
The judge said, ‘Mr. Farmer, what is the—’
‘It is relevant, my lord. My client is a spiritualistic medium and I shall show that he was in a trance when he signed that statement at the police station.’ He resumed his cross-examination.
‘You said just now you were unaware, when you obtained this statement from Mr. Seton, that he had received a letter from Mrs. Flower asking him to use the money for his own purposes?’
‘He said nothing about a letter on that occasion.’
‘Then Mr. Seton called on you the following week and told you he had made his statement while in a dazed condition, and wished to withdraw it?’
‘I have no recollection of that.’
‘He told you he had in his possession a letter from Mrs. Flower in which she made it plain that the cheque was freely given for his use in his profession?’
‘I have no recollection of him saying that.’
‘When you say you have no recollection you mean that in fact you do not remember whether he said it or whether he did not? He might in fact have stated his desire to withdraw his statement or to make a further statement, but it has slipped your recollection.’
‘He didn’t ask to withdraw his statement or make a further one. He said nothing about a letter on that occasion.
‘You have said you did not know about the existence of a letter from Mrs. Flower until some weeks later.’
‘That is correct…’
‘You said…’
Alice whispered to Matthew, ‘You can see the power he’s got over Patrick. Just look at poor Patrick.’
Patrick was sitting in the dock between two policemen, looking at tall square Fergusson with his head slightly to one side and tears shining in his pale eyes.
Next came Freda Flower. She began to swear on the Bible, glanced towards Patrick, and ended on a faltering note.
‘You are a widow?’ said Martin Bowles. ‘… You let rooms for a living?… Do you know the accused?… How long have you known the accused?… Did he offer to do a little decorating and painting in your house?… When did you become interested in the spiritualist movement? … Did you attend séances with the accused?’
‘Yes,’ said Freda Flower. ‘… Yes… Yes… That’s right… I started going to spiritualist meetings with Mr. Seton, that would be about three months after he came to my house.’
‘He was in charge of these meetings?’
‘Oh no, he was the medium.’
‘Can you describe to the court in your own words what took place when Mr. Seton acted as a medium?’
‘Well, he went under and I must say he always gave every satisfaction as a medium, I must say that. He—”
‘When you say he went under, Mrs. Flower, what does that mean? He sat in a chair, did he not?’
‘Yes, he was bound to the chair hands and feet.’
‘And this was in the dark.’
‘Well, there was always a small light burning in the Sanctuary.’
‘There was a dim light in the séance room where the meetings were held — Am I right?…’
‘Yes, that’s right.., bound hand and foot to a chair…’
‘Could you describe the trance, please? You must remember that most people present in this court have not attended a spiritualist meeting.’
‘He closed his eyes and went under.’
‘He appeared to lose consciousness?’ said Martin.
‘No, because he spoke as a medium after that. The control took over, you see.’
‘He appeared to be unaware of what was going on around him?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Will you describe his appearance?’
‘Well, you see, he’s a medium. His eyes rolled upward and he foamed a bit at the mouth and his legs and arms twitched as far as was possible because they were bound to the chair.’
‘Did he obtain messages purporting to come from an invisible world?’
‘Yes, he got through to the other side. He—”
‘Were any of these messages directed specifically to you?’
‘Yes, he got through to my late husband.’ She looked at Patrick and looked away. Patrick was accusing her. ‘His messages were often a great comfort,’ she said.
‘These messages from your late husband through the mediumship of Seton contained practical advice?’
‘Yes, sometimes…. Well, not exactly practical, but—”
‘Will you give an example?’
‘Well, only advice to keep happy and cheerful,’ she said, on the verge of tears.
‘Anything else?’
‘Well, it’s difficult …’
‘On one occasion there was something about money?’
The Defence Counsel was allowed his objection. Martin said, ‘Were you advised as to your friends, the company you kept?’
‘Yes,’ said Freda, ‘my late husband wanted me to be friends with Mr. Seton.’
‘Was this according to what the accused said while in his trance?’
‘Yes.’
‘Now,’ said Martin, ‘about this cheque for two thousand pounds …’
Up in the gallery Matthew said to Alice, ‘She’s giving very bad evidence.’
‘What other sort of evidence could she give?’ said Alice.
‘Will you look at this cheque for two thousand pounds made out to Patrick Seton and say if that is your signature?’ Martin was saying.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it’s mine.’
r /> ‘Martin Bowles is a clot,’ Matthew said.
‘He hasn’t got much of a case,’ said Alice.
Martin was referring to Freda Flower’s deposition.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘… Yes, I told him to buy them for me.’ … ‘No, it was his suggestion.’ … ‘I thought he had bought the bonds… Well, I thought the bonds would be safer with him…’
‘What do you mean by safer?’ said the judge.. ‘I thought he would keep them safer than me,’ she said. Patrick looked up at Mice. She smiled at him. Her pregnancy, he thought, is hidden by the railings of the balcony. I’m winning. She won’t live.
‘I did in a way promise him a little help with his spiritual research. I said he should ask me for money.’
Some of the jury were making notes.
‘And did he ask you?’
‘No, he never asked …’
Martin read out the letter to the court. ‘I should add,’ he said, ‘that the letter is undated.’
‘Will you look at this letter,’ he said, ‘and tell the court whether you wrote it or not?’
‘No, I never wrote it.’
‘Is that handwriting similar to your own.’
‘It looks very like my writing. But I couldn’t have written it unless I was in a trance or something.’
‘Have you ever been in a trance?’ said the judge.
‘I don’t think so, my lord.’
‘Don’t you know? Have you ever foamed at the mouth and rolled up your eyes, and twitched?’
‘No, my lord.’
Matthew said, as the cross-examination began, ‘Now we’re for it.’
‘Serve her right,’ Mice said. ‘She’s just showing herself up for what she is.’
‘You have said that Mr. Seton gave every satisfaction as a medium?’ said Patrick’s counsel.
‘Yes, he was always a good medium.’
‘You had every faith in his powers?’
‘Yes.’
‘And still have?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘You had every reason to believe that he was genuine, whatever may be the opinions of others on spiritualism in general?’
‘Oh, he was genuine, I admit.’
‘And you say he brought you comfort, and did repairs and decorations to your house?’