CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE PRISONER COMES INTO COURT.
I got the ticket, and I went to the trial.
I travelled in the same train with the judge. At Victoria, asI was standing at the carriage door, a little old gentleman, of thebeer-barrel type of architecture, went toddling by. He wore goldspectacles, he had a very red face, a double chin, and big, pursylips--the sort of old gentleman one would have liked to have smacked onthe back.
Another old gentleman was standing near me. He was tall and thin. Whenthe little old gentleman went toddling by this other old gentlemanmoved his head in the toddler's direction and his arms in mine.
"Judge Hunter."
I was most benign.
"Indeed! Is that Judge Hunter?"
"Going down to Lewes Assizes; been spending a day in town."
That was a Monday. Of course, the day before had been Sunday. But whatthe man meant is more than I can say.
The thin old gentleman and I shared a compartment. He fed me withscraps of information by the way.
"Good judge, Hunter. He has one qualification which a good judge oughtto have."
"What is that?"
"Been a bit of a rogue himself."
"Is that a qualification which goes to the making of a good judge? Thenwhat a number of good judges there must be."
The thin old gentleman smiled.
"I don't mean in a criminal sense, you understand. He's not been inprison, and that kind of thing. But Hunter has not lived exactly thelife of a saint. In the case of a judge a fellow-feeling ought to makeone wondrous kind."
"I see."
It was a delightful journey. The sun was shining; the air was warm andsweet; the country through which we passed seemed lovely. Perhaps I wasin the mood!
As we rattled through Three Bridges Junction the thin old gentlemanrecommenced his process of feeding me with titbits of information.
"This is where the murder took place."
"Is that so?"
How different it looked in the sunshine!
"Just about there"--he was pointing through the window of thecarriage--"is where they found the body."
I wondered if he was right. I, myself, had the vaguest notion. I hadnot been in a position to make a mental map of my surroundings. Itstruck me that it must have been a little farther on; to me, at thetime, it had seemed to be a good distance from the station. But then Ihad to allow for the rate at which we were moving. I had walked alongthe line.
"It was a dreadful thing--dreadful! It makes one's blood boil when onethinks of it. I do hope that, this time, no false sentimentality willbe allowed to interfere, and that they will hang the man."
I had become used to hearing that sort of remark. Everybody seemed tobe taking it for granted that Tommy was guilty. I could but acquiesce.
Lewes seemed to me to be a charming town--all up-hill and down--thoughI must confess that there was a little more up-hill than down. And allso old! I do so like a town to be old. Of course one would never dreamof living in it, but it is so nice to visit.
The assizes were not to open till the Tuesday. Tommy's trial was notexpected to begin till the Wednesday. So I had time upon my hands. Iwas truly rural. I went to Newhaven--a horrid hole!--and across theroad to Seaford--which was much of a muchness. And I lived on the LewesDowns. What a breeze there was up there! And what a view! And I saw theprison--the outside of it, I mean, not the inside. It was built righton the edge of the downs--rather cool in winter, I should think.
I came on a warder. He was smoking a pipe. I suppose he was takingthe air. He was a big man, with a huge red beard and one of thebest-humoured faces I ever saw. I wondered what he did with hisgood-humour when he went inside. I should think it must have beenagainst the prison rules to take it in.
We foregathered. He was affability itself. He pointed out the variousparts of the prison.
"That is the debtors' wing, that is; that's where we keep the hard-up'uns. A chap can't earn five-and-twenty shillings to pay his poor rate,perhaps, so we spend ten pound over locking him up. That's a prettygame, that is. I've never been able to make head or tail of it myself.But, of course, it's no affair of mine. Those are the convicted wards.We haven't got enough prisoners of our own to keep the place properlygoing, so they send us a few down from town--some of the worst they'vegot. Nice ones some of them are. That's the chapel. Oh, yes, we have aregular daily service; we couldn't get on without one, could we?--twiceon Sunday--Protestant and Catholic. They're very particular, some of'em, about their religion. We chaps don't do much in the service. Allour time's took up in looking after the boys; and the worse a man is,the more he likes his bit of chapel. That's where we keep the prisonerswho are awaiting trial--Tennant's in there."
"Indeed! How very interesting! And what sort of a man is he?--I supposehe's a dreadful man?"
The warder began combing his beard with his fingers.
"Not a bit of it; don't you think it. He's as decent and nice a chap asever you'd wish to meet."
"Don't you think he's guilty?"
"Oh, I don't know nothing at all about that. Some of the very worstmurders ever I have known have been done by some of the very nicestchaps ever you met--when you come to talk to 'em, I mean. I don't knowhow it is, but so it is. He'll be hung--safe to. That's where they'llhang him. You can't see it from where we are, but there's a little yardin there where they build the gallows. I expect I shall have the chargeof him in the condemned cell. I generally do have. I've hung 'em beforeto-day; but it's not a nice job."
Poor, dear Tommy! It made me go queer all over to hear the man talk ofhim like that. What a funny world it is? Or is it the people in it whoare funny?
When the trial began the court was like a theatre. I got in early--forreasons of my own. I wanted a particular place, and succeeded inobtaining the object of my heart's desire.
I had had a peep in at the court on the opening day of the assizes.What I wanted was a position in which I should not face the prisoner. Ifound that the prisoners were placed in a sort of railed enclosure.Their feet were about on a level with the lawyers' heads. On one sideof this enclosure was a kind of pew. So long as the occupants kepttheir seats it was impossible for any one in the enclosure to evenguess at their identity. I soon saw that a seat in this pew was exactlywhat I wanted. If I wore a thick veil, and made certain changes in myattire, Tommy would never dream that the woman whom he was charged withhaving murdered was actually sitting within reach of his hand, aspectator of the trial.
When I reached the court the usher--or whoever it was--wanted me to siton the bench, on a line with the judge and immediately facing theprisoner's dock. He assured me that that part of the court wasspecially reserved for ladies who were ticket-holders, and that it wasquite impossible that they could be allowed to sit anywhere else. Thisimpossibility I rather doubted, and when I presented him with twobeautifully bright, new yellow sovereigns he seemed to doubt it too.
"I don't want to be conspicuous," I explained. "I just want to seeeverything without being seen."
Nothing could have possibly been truer or more reasonable. Possiblythose two sovereigns aided that usher to see both the truth and thereason. Anyhow, he showed me into actually the seat I wanted.
Very soon the place was crowded. No end of ladies graced the bench.Some of them must--unlike modest little me!--have come to be seen aswell as to see. Certainly they were dressed for show. The court worequite an air of fashion.
Among the crowd, but not on the bench, was Tommy's wife. She came inwith an elderly lady and gentleman, whom I took to be her father andmother, or else Tommy's--I could not make my mind up which--and ayounger gentleman, who still was pretty well on in years. I had nodoubt that he was Tommy's solicitor. As Mrs. Tennant came in two of thebarristers, who were sitting among a heap of others at a table, stoodup and shook hands with her. I found out afterwards that, as Isuspected at the time, they were Tommy's counsel. Somebody must haveknown who she was, becau
se, directly she appeared, quite a buzz ofwhispering went round the court. The women on the bench leaned towardseach other, and stared and did everything but point at her. They mighthave been ladies--gentlewomen, as my old mother used to have it, theywere not. She removed her veil and looked at them--just once, and thatwas all. She looked very sweet and pale and troubled, but grit to thefinger-ends.
Other counsel were sitting cheek by jowl with Tommy's counsel. One ofthem, turning as Mrs. Tennant entered, looked her keenly up and down.He was an ugly, mean-looking, colourless, bloodless little man. Hisrobe, or whatever they called the thing he wore, was different to theothers--it was of silk. I wondered what he was.
Suddenly there was a stir in court. Somebody appeared like anundertaker's mute--only he wasn't a mute--from a door at the back.
"The judge."
Everybody rose to their feet. In waddled the fat little fellow I hadseen in the train. He reminded me, somehow, of the comic man in theburlesque. He had on an enormous wig, about sixty yards of what, fromwhere I sat, looked like some sort of scarlet blanketing, and--as ifthat wasn't enough!--fur. He presented a dreadful spectacle. Goodnessknows that he had a red enough face of his own! They might have put himin white.
There was some rubbish which I did not understand--and did not want to.It was some time before I could take my eyes off the judge. He wassomething to stare at. The more I looked at him the more I wonderedwhat they would do if the man was struck with apoplexy. To me the riskof something of the kind, which he seemed to be running, was simplyawful.
Then they swore in the jury. Among them were some of thestupidest-looking men I ever saw. If they were married it was a pitythey could not have sent their wives, and they themselves have stayedat home. There must have been more sense somewhere in the family.
Then somebody said--
"Bring in Thomas Tennant!"
A hush came over the court. All eyes were turned in one direction. I,alone, did not dare to turn to look. There were movements behind me,then all was still. I noticed that Mrs. Tennant had removed her veilagain, and had turned round in her seat and was looking at some onewhom I could not see--looking at this some one with a smile.
I knew that she was looking at her husband, and that Tommy was going tobe tried for the murder of me.
As I sat there, scarcely daring to breathe, staring straight in frontof me, yet seeing nothing, my thick veil obscuring my features, myhands tightly clasping the knob of my umbrella, I was experiencing themost singular sensation I had ever known.
It was worse than stage fright, by a deal.