Flowers For the Judge (31 page)

‘I am an accountant employed by Messrs Barnabas. I have known the accused and the deceased for about two years, ever since I came to work in the office. On January the twenty-seventh I went into the deceased’s rooms at the office and on into the book-file room, which leads off it. When I entered the room the two men were talking. They ceased when they saw me, but when I went into the little office they continued their conversation.’

‘Was the door open or shut?’

‘Open.’

‘Could you hear what was said?’

‘Clearly.’

‘Can you repeat what you overheard, word for word?’

‘I can.’

‘Is it not extraordinary that you should remember a chance conversation so clearly?’

‘No, because it was an extraordinary conversation.’

‘Will you repeat it?’

Mr Rigget considered and began in a slightly affected voice.

‘Mr Paul, the deceased, said: “You mind your own damned business, Mike. She’s mine. I’ll manage my own life in my own way.” And then after a pause he said: “Make love to her if you want to. God knows I’m not stopping you.”’

‘Did you hear any more?’

‘No. I came out then and they stopped talking.’

‘Did you see both men?’

‘Of course.’

‘How close to them were you?’

‘I passed quite close to Mr – to the accused – within two feet.’

‘Did you notice anything about him?’

‘He was very white. His hands were clenched. He looked as if he could – he looked very angry.’

‘Had you ever seen him like that before?’

‘I had never seen him like that before.’

Miss Curley’s neighbour nudged her.

‘They’ll get him,’ he whispered jubilantly, and then, as she turned to him, coughed apologetically into his handkerchief and reddened round the ears.

Cousin Alexander rose majestically and scattered a sheaf of papers to the floor with the sleeve of his gown. While Mr Rigget’s attention was still distracted by the incident he put his first question.

‘Some time before you entered the employment of Messr. Barnabas, Limited, you were employed by Messrs Fitch and Sons, paper merchants, were you not?’

Mr Rigget started violently.

‘Yes.’

‘Is it true that after you left them you gave evidence for the prosecution in an action brought against that firm by the Inland Revenue department and were rewarded by that department for information received?’

The Attorney-General sprang up and protested violently, and for the first time real heat was infused into the chill argument which had taken place between the two Counsel. Lord Lumley blinked at Cousin Alexander.

‘I confess I don’t see the purpose of such a question, Sir Alexander,’ he rumbled mildly.

Cousin Alexander bowed.

‘I will not press it, My Lord,’ he said virtuously, and Mr Rigget was sufficiently ill-advised to smile.

‘Are you an accountant?’

‘I am.’

‘Have you very little to do with the book publishing side of Messrs Barnabas’ business?’

‘I suppose I have.’ Mr Rigget spoke grudgingly.

‘Is it true you do not know even the titles of all the books they publish?’

‘No, not all,’ said Mr Rigget nervously.

‘Is it true that you did not know, for instance, that in January Messrs Barnabas acquired the rights of an autobiography entitled
My Own Life
, by Lady Emily Trumpington?’

‘No – o.’

‘Did you or did you not?’

Cousin Alexander’s chill eyes suddenly reminded Mr Rigget of the portrait in the waiting-room.

‘I may have heard of it.’

‘Did it occur to you then or does it occur to you now that what you really overheard the deceased say on the occasion when you were “overhearing” in the next office was “You mind your own damned business, Mike. She’s mine. I’ll manage
My Own Life
in my own way,” meaning, of course, the author, Lady Trumpington, is my client and I will manage her book – that is to say, I will publish her book – in my own way.’

‘No,’ said Mr Rigget, turning a dull brown in the green light. ‘No. I thought he was talking about his wife.’

‘You thought …!’ began Cousin Alexander, apparently temporarily overwhelmed by the iniquity of fools, but recovering himself with pretty dignity … ‘What made you think that he was talking about his wife?’

‘Well,’ said Mr Rigget uncomfortably, ‘there had been a bit of talk in the office about Mrs Brande and the accused carrying on, and I naturally thought –’

His voice trailed away.

‘A bit of talk.’ Cousin Alexander’s tone rose melodiously. ‘A bit of talk in the office. Tittle-tattle among the employees. A’s wife has been seen with B, and so when A and B talk heatedly it must be about Mrs A. Is that how you reasoned, Mr Rigget?’

‘I – I may have done.’

Lord Lumley leant forward.

‘When you heard the words “my own life”, did they sound like the title of a book? Were they said with equal emphasis on each word, or on one or two words only?’

The quiet affable question brought the whole tricksy business back to earth again, out of the realms of cleverness into the quiet line of inquiry, the results of which should determine if Mike should hang by the neck until he was dead.

Mr Rigget dithered while the court held its breath.

‘I can’t remember,’ he said at last, and the ready tears which were such a constant source of embarrassment to him crept into his eyes.

Cousin Alexander let the admission sink in before he tackled the next stage of his inquiry.

‘You have told us that you cannot remember the inflection on the words “my own life”,’ he said quietly. ‘Are you sure that you remember the words “make love to her if you want to. God knows I’m not stopping you”? You are sure you heard them?’

‘I am sure.’

‘Did the accused say anything at all while you were in the inner office?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Are you saying that you heard him say nothing?’

‘I heard nothing.’

‘Might he have whispered?’

‘No. I should have heard him if he had.’

‘Were you listening carefully?’

‘I was.’

‘Were you remembering everything you heard?’

‘Everything.’

‘And yet you are not sure if the deceased was talking about his own life or the title of a book.’

‘That’s your suggestion,’ sneered Mr Rigget.

‘Yes, it is,’ said Cousin Alexander, with lightning heat. ‘And it is also my suggestion that in order to convince yourself that you had heard Mr Brande talking about his wife, you imagined the second part of the statement.’

‘No.’

Cousin Alexander took a deep breath.

‘Consider those two remarks, first side by side and then concurrently. Do you think they could have been made by the same man, the same man in the same mood and on the same point? Are they not directly contradictory? “I’ll manage my own married life in my own way: make love to my wife if you want to.” Taken together, do not they sound absurd?’

‘I heard it,’ said Mr Rigget obstinately.

‘I suggest,’ said Cousin Alexander, ‘that you thought you heard it.’

‘No, I heard it.’

‘Is it possible, Mr Rigget, that you may have been mistaken in what you heard?’

There is a blessed quality of moral absolution in the word ‘mistaken’, and Mr Rigget fell for it.

‘Perhaps,’ he said, and Cousin Alexander sighed.

‘Do you like the accused? – or rather, is it true that you bear no grudge against him?’

‘I hardly know him.’

‘Yet you knew the intimate affairs of his life. You knew he had been “carrying on” with Mrs Brande?’

‘I had heard it.’

‘Do you think now that you may have been mistaken?’

‘I had heard it.’

‘May it have been untrue?’

‘It may.’

Cousin Alexander began to enjoy himself. His elation, which had been slowly growing ever since Mr Rigget had entered the box, was shared by all those whose personal feelings were not harrowed by the case. Throughout the last part of the cross-examination people had been coming into the room. Barristers from other courts slipped in unobtrusively and the undercurrent of whispers which broke out in every pause became a natural part of the proceedings.

Miss Curley was stirred by the excitement of it all, in spite of herself. She could not help reacting to the general animation which had arisen so suddenly. It frightened her. She felt that it was at moments like these when mistakes were made, but she could feel the exhilaration and her neighbour was quite frankly beside himself with delight.

There was so much movement going on all round the room that she did not notice that the Attorney-General had left the court. It was Gina who called her attention to the fact.

‘Where’s Sir Montague Brooch gone?’ she whispered. ‘A note was brought in to him and he hurried out. Did you see? Where’s Albert Campion? They’ll need him, won’t they? Something’s happening.’

Miss Curley realized with a shock of self-reproach that the different atmosphere in the court had not registered upon the girl. Gina was concerned only with the truth and the man in the dock. Cousin Alexander’s dexterities had passed her by.

‘I don’t notice anything,’ she whispered back, and before she had time to consider the suggestion Cousin Alexander began again.

‘We will leave for a moment the question of what you do and do not remember, Mr Rigget,’ he said graciously, ‘what you are sure you heard and what you cannot remember
if
you heard, and go on to something which happened so short a while ago that I am sure you will have no difficulty in calling it to mind. I put it to you that you visited the strong-room where the deceased was found after office hours on the ninth of this month on the eve of this trial. Did you or did you not?’

Mr Rigget’s glance turned nervously towards the prosecution and he saw for the first time that Sir Montague Brooch was not present. Sir Alexander was still waiting.

‘Did you or did you not?’

‘I may have done.’

‘Come, come, Mr Rigget, that’s no answer to a perfectly straightforward question. It is now Thursday. Did you on Tuesday night go down to the strong-room of the office where you are employed after office hours?’

Again Mr Rigget looked round helplessly, and this time even Miss Curley was aware that something untoward was afoot. Cousin Alexander’s junior tugged his gown and slipped a note into his hand, and at the same time the Clerk, who had been in conference for some minutes with Fyshe, rose and whispered to the Judge.

Mr Rigget, finding himself temporarily forgotten, said ‘Yes’ sulkily, and the whole court waited.

‘’Ullo? ’Ullo?’ murmured Miss Curley’s unknown neighbour expressively, and at the same time Gina caught the older woman’s hand.

‘I told you something had happened. What is it? More evidence against Mike? I can’t bear it, Curley, I can’t bear it!’

‘Hush, dear, hush,’ said Miss Curley, patting the hand she held and moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue.

Cousin Alexander bustled out of court and his junior rose to take his place. The Clerk still stood whispering and Lord Lumley, looking more like a very old and very wise bloodhound than ever, sat forward, his head on one side. Now and again he nodded gravely and sometimes put a muttered question, which was answered by more whispered volubility from the Clerk.

The junior for the defence repeated Cousin Alexander’s
last
question and received the same sulky reply from Mr Rigget, but its importance was lost. The jury were whispering heatedly, and only the little group in the dock sat stolidly silent, waiting.

‘While you were there, what did you do?’

‘I looked for things.’

‘Were you on the firm’s business?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did anyone from the office know you were there?’

‘They may have done.’

Mr Rigget’s eyes were snapping. He saw his opportunity and was taking it. The junior had no terrors for him, and he saw his chance to deny the truth of the statement he had made in Mr Scruby’s office. He supposed he could get that respected firm of solicitors and the odious Mr Campion into the devil of a row if he played his cards carefully.

Looking up, he saw Mike’s eyes resting upon him, and he turned away hastily from that pale unhappy face.

‘Will you tell the court what was the nature of the business on which you were engaged in the strong-room at that unlikely hour?’

The fact that the court was certainly not listening to anything Mr Rigget might have to tell unnerved the young barrister and the question lacked authority.

‘I was looking up some royalty accounts for our department,’ said Mr Rigget mendaciously, and remembered suddenly that perjury is a crime.

‘Had you any authority to do that?’

‘No, but I like to do my job thoroughly.’

The whispered conversation at the bench had ceased, and now Sir Andrew Phelps was talking to the Clerk.

The cross-examination went on its desultory way.

‘While you were there were you disturbed?’

‘Yes, I was. I was set upon and nearly killed.’

‘Did you not attack the man who discovered you there?’

‘No, he attacked me.’

‘You must be more explicit. Did your assailant come straight into the room and hit you?’

The quiet voice from the bench at his side startled Mr
Rigget
out of his wits. Under cover of the mysterious upheaval, which seemed to have distracted the entire court, he had been happily chirruping on. Now it was as though God had stretched out a great finger and pinned an impudent sparrow to the gate. He gasped.

‘No. I went out to see who it was, and he hit me then.’

Counsel continued.

‘Did you turn on the light?’

‘No, I ran out into the passage in the dark.’

Mr Rigget’s face grew rigid after he had spoken. His eyes blinked piteously and he trembled, waiting for the next question.

It was a very long time in coming, and at last he looked up in sheer desperation, only to see the Attorney-General and Cousin Alexander back at the table again. Both men seemed slightly excited. There was a flush on Sir Montague Brooch’s thin dark cheek-bones and Cousin Alexander was forcing a smile, which was clearly not genuine. There was a pause. The Attorney-General looked at the Judge, and when His Lordship nodded to him imperceptibly he rose.