The Crime and the Criminal

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  THE CASE FOR THE CROWN CONCLUDES.

  After that the court adjourned till to-morrow. Mr. Alexander Taunton'sperformance wound up the programme of the day's entertainment, as itappeared to me, with adequate spirit.

  At the inn or hotel, or whatever they called it, at which I wasstopping, every one was talking of the trial. The chambermaid, whowaited on me at dinner, could talk of nothing else. She went gabble,gabble all the time that she was in the room, and it seemed to me thatshe stopped in the room as much as she possibly could. Her manners, ifrustic, were familiar.

  She had witnessed Tommy's arrival at the court.

  "A more dreadful-looking wretch I never saw. It gave me quite a feelingto look at him. He's got pig's eyes. And cruel! There was cruelty allover him!"

  Poor Tommy! She must have had an insufficient view, or she wasprejudiced. A milder-mannered man was never charged with having cut athroat, nor, I verily believe, a tenderer-hearted one.

  "And they tell me his wife was in court. I never! She must be a one!I'd have drowned myself sooner than let people know I was the wife of aman like that. She must be almost as bad as he is, or she would neverhave dared to show her face."

  Alas for the rarity of Christian charity! Dear, dear, how theseChristians do love each other! To think that that sweet-faced,true-hearted woman should have been spoken of like that!

  "They're sure to hang him, that's one comfort. I think it's a shamethey don't hang him out of hand, without making all this fuss about it.I think such creatures ought to be hung directly they catch 'em."

  "Before ascertaining if they are guilty?"

  "He's guilty, safe enough. The wretch!"

  Well, of course, she knew best. Still, what a funny world it is.

  At dinner I ordered a bottle of wine. The landlord brought it uphimself, as an excuse for a gossip. He was a shrivelled-up little man,about sixty, not at all like the typical Boniface.

  "I thought that I should have been on the jury. But I was on the juryyesterday instead. But there are two cousins of mine who are--got headsscrewed on their shoulders both of 'em."

  "Indeed? Will you have a glass of wine?"

  "Thank you, ma'am, you're very kind. I don't mind if I do." He did notmind.

  "I can recommend this port wine. I've had it in my cellars over twentyyears. Your very good health, ma'am. Yes." He shook his head. "Neitherof them holds with this chap's little games." I had not the faintestnotion to what little games he alluded. "I saw you in court, ma'am.Might I ask if you're interested in any of the parties?"

  "Not at all. I am an American. While I was staying in England I thoughtthat I would not lose an opportunity of seeing one of your greattrials."

  "Ay, this is a very great trial, this is. It won't soon be forgotten.Do you think he's guilty?"

  "Do you?"

  "Well, what I say is just this. I wouldn't be locked up alone with astrange woman in a railway carriage all the way from Brighton toLondon, not for--not for any amount of money."

  "You are flattering."

  "I don't mean nothing--not at all. Only, in this case, how are we tosay what happened? He seems to be a decent kind of chap. She might havebeen nasty, there might have been a rumpus, he might have tried to getaway from her, she might have fallen out upon the line. How is any oneto tell?"

  My friend, the landlord, in spite of his somewhat unpromisingappearance, seemed to be one of the few sensible persons I had recentlyencountered. I pressed him to take another glass of wine. He yielded tothe pressure.

  "Don't you think they'll find him guilty, then?"

  "Oh, they'll find him guilty, safe enough, and I daresay they'll hanghim, too. That's just the best of it. When a man gets mixed up with awoman in a thing like this they're sure to think the worse of him. Butit doesn't follow that he did it, any the more for that. As for thatchap Taunton, I'd hang him!"

  It seemed that my friend the gentleman had good cause to congratulatehimself on the possession of such a relative. He seemed to be held ingeneral esteem.

  When the court reopened the next day I changed my seat. I had takencareful stock of the scene of action the day before. The result hadbeen that I came to one or two conclusions. I perceived, for one thing,that one might very easily sit upon the bench and yet preserve one'sanonymity. If I wore a cloak, kept my veil down, sat on the back row,and kept myself in the shade, I need fear no recognition from Tommy.

  I quite hungered for a sight of the prisoner. I had not dared to turnand look at him from where I sat the day before. The action might notimprobably have attracted his attention.

  Besides, I wanted to have a good view of what might, not improperly, bedescribed as the closing tableau.

  So when I entered the court this time I presented the usher with asovereign for a seat on the bench. I had a seat on the bench--quite inthe shade.

  The place was, if anything, more crowded than ever. It was understoodthat the trial was to conclude in the course of the day. Perhaps thatproved an extra attraction. Anyhow, we were uncomfortably crowded onthe bench, and the court, everywhere, was as full as it could hold. Iwondered how much--in a theatrical sense--the house was worth to a someone--say the usher.

  The judge came in. Then Tommy. They let him have a chair. I had agood look at him. He badly wanted shaving; there was a month'sgrowth of hair upon his cheeks and chin. But he looked better than Iexpected--and braver. His wife sat in front of him, as she had done theday before. She turned as he came in, and greeted him with a smile.Such a brave one! Without a suspicion of a tear! He smiled back at her.

  Poor dears! Their smiling days were nearly done.

  When he was seated and had recovered from the excitement of his entry,after all, the expression began to creep into his face, which I hadexpected to see there all along. The expression of stupor, of mentalparalysis, of shame, of horror at the position in which he foundhimself, and at the things which were to come.

  Poor, dear Tommy! He looked to me as if there was no fight left in him.

  I need not have feared his recognition. He never looked at any one. Hejust glanced now and then at his wife, and every time he did so therecame into his face a something which was a curious commingling ofpleasure with pain. But, with the exception of Mrs. Tennant, I doubt ifhe clearly realised the personality of any other creature there.

  The first witness called was a man named Stephen Rodman. He said he wasa "tapper," which, I suppose, had something to do with railway work,though I don't know what. Early on the morning of Monday, November 9th,he was walking in the six-foot way of the arrival platform of VictoriaStation. He saw a handkerchief lying on the ground. He picked it up. Itwas soaked with blood, and was still damp. In the corner was a name,"T. Tennant." The 8.40 from Brighton had been drawn up at that platformthe night before. Sir Haselton Jardine's colleague, who was examining,handed witness a handkerchief--still unwashed. That was the one hefound.

  Jane Parsons followed, actually the girl who had been in Mrs. Tennant'sservice and who had applied for my situation. Certainly the prosecutionwere fitting the rope round Tommy's neck, as if they did not mean toleave him a loophole of escape. I wondered what she had to say.

  Not much. She began by showing an inclination to cry, which inclinationshe presently gave way to. The tears trickled down her cheeks. She keptdabbling at them with a handkerchief, which she had squeezed into theshape and size of a penny ball.

  She was a parlourmaid. Had been, till recently, in Mrs. Tennant'sservice. Remembered November 8th. Mr. Tennant went to spend the day atBrighton. Mrs. Tennant told her he had gone. Miss Minna was not well,so missus stayed to nurse her. Admitted Mr. Tennant on his return. Itwas pretty late. After eleven. Mr. Tennant did not seem to be himselfat all. He seemed all anyhow--as if he had been fighting. There was agreat cut on his cheek. Helped him off with his overcoat. It was alltorn and rumpled about the collar. The top button had been torn rightoff, and a piece of cloth torn with it. It was
spotted with blood.Shown an overcoat; recognised it as the overcoat which Mr. Tennant hadworn. His collar and tie were disarranged. As a rule he was a mostparticular gentleman about his clothes.

  Mr. Bates asked a question or two.

  Had been in Mrs. Tennant's employ more than two years. Mr. Tennant wasa very good master--no one could want a better. Lived a quiet, regularlife. Was very fond of his wife, and she of him. Made a perfect idol ofhis little girl.

  At this point poor Tommy covered his face with his hands.

  She didn't believe he had ever done it, and she never would--she didn'tcare what nobody said. This statement was volunteered, amidst a burstof sobbing. Mr. Tennant was very nervous. They used to make a joke ofit in the kitchen. The least thing put him off. She meant that he waseasily flustered. He was a tender and a loving husband and father, agentle and a kind master, and she didn't believe that, willingly, hewould hurt a fly. Jane's tears burst forth afresh.

  Mr. Bates sat down.

  The detective who had arrested Tommy next appeared. His name wasMatthew Holman. He was a sinewy, greybearded, greyheaded, notunkindly-looking man, looking more like a sailor than anything else.His evidence was purely cut and dried, and formal. Prisoner had made nostatement on being arrested. All efforts to trace the identity of thedead woman had been unsuccessful. Mr. Bates allowed the witness todepart unquestioned.

  The medical evidence which followed revived the flagging interest. Itroused Tommy more than anything which had gone before. As well itmight.

  Two doctors were called. The first was a country doctor. A middle-agedman, with a fatherly sort of manner, and something of the milk of humankindness about his mouth, and in the twinkling of his eyes. His namewas Gresham.

  Dr. Gresham had examined the body twice. First at the Three Bridges,afterwards in the mortuary at East Grinstead. The first occasion wasbetween nine and ten on the morning of Monday, November 9th. Life hadbeen extinct some hours, probably twelve. The body was that of awell-nourished, healthy young woman, probably under twenty-one years ofage.

  When he heard this Tommy started. Certainly no doctor could havemistaken me for under one-and-twenty.

  She was far advanced in pregnancy.

  Tommy started again. I fancied that Mrs. Tennant started too.

  The cause of death was strangulation.

  Tommy started more and more. Leaning over the rail of the dock, hestared at the witness with all his eyes.

  He was sure of it. He had no doubt upon the point whatever.Unfortunately, there was no room for doubt. She had been killed by thepressure of a man's hands and fingers. Great violence must have beenused. In fact, extraordinary violence. The skin of the throat wasdiscoloured. Marks of a man's hands and fingers were most distinct.Indeed, so distinct, that when he first saw them they amounted almostto a model. There were slight bruises on the body, such as might havebeen caused by a fall. There was a livid bruise which ran from shoulderto shoulder across the back. It had probably been caused by pressure.For instance, by pressure against the edge of a carriage seat. Histheory was that she had been forced back against the edge of thecarriage seat, and in that position strangled. Falling from the trainhad not been the cause of death. The fall had nothing to do with it.

  When Sir Haselton Jardine sat down Tommy and Mr. Bates had quite a longconfabulation. Tommy seemed half beside himself with excitement--I verywell knew why! It struck me, however, that Mr. Bates did not seem verymuch impressed.

  Still, acting no doubt on his client's strenuous instructions, hesubjected the doctor to a rigorous cross-examination.

  But it was all in vain.

  Poor Tommy!

  Mr. Bates first of all suggested, as it were, casually, that the womanwas more than one-and-twenty. The doctor did not think it possible.Everything went to show that she was not. Then, after some fencing, hetried to induce the doctor to admit that she might have been strangledafter she had fallen from the train. That she might have fallen fromthe train by accident. Been stupefied by the fall, and, on recoveringfrom her stupor, that some one might have come along and strangled her.The doctor would have none of it, He deemed the thing incredible. Mr.Bates hammered away, but the doctor held his own.

  Tommy was done!

  He was done still more when it came to the second doctor's turn. He wasa Dr. Braithwaite, a great swell from London. He had examined the bodyat East Grinstead. He corroborated all that Dr. Gresham had had to say,putting things, if anything, a little stronger against poor Tommy. Hedeclined to move a hair's-breadth from his fixed conviction that thewoman had been strangled--in the train.

  When he left the box every creature in court was aware that, unlesssomething amounting almost to a miracle intervened, Tommy's fate wassealed.

  Sir Haselton Jardine, half rising from his seat, announced that thatwas the case for the Crown.