Take My Life (14 page)

He decided that it might. He decided that the risk was very small.

He rose and left the chapel.

Friday was more cloudy, and in the court-room the alternating sun and shadow was like the passing of a great hand ever and again across the glass dome.

The newspapers had made a lot of Mr Tyler's unexpected move, and if he had been craving publicity for his future in law he could have chosen no better way. But in justice to Mr Tyler, his only aim was the acquittal of his client.

The morning saw a duel between Archer and Tyler. Archer was of different stuff from Grieve, and if anything the case for the defence lost ground as a result of the Inspector's recall. Archer was unshakable in his statement that under no circumstances could Grieve have seen the photograph in the locket, and somehow made his case the stronger by freely admitting that there had been some irregularity on the part of the police in allowing Grieve to remain in the room during the first minutes of their inquiries. Knowing that his attack on Grieve would almost certainly mean Archer's recall, Tyler had saved his cross-examination until now, and the morning was far gone before Archer stood down and the prosecution's case was closed.

Then it was Mr Tyler's turn again. He began in his conversational easy manner.

‘You have been told, members of the jury, that the defence will assail the Crown's evidence for being all of a circumstantial nature. Well, you have been told wrong. My complaint, as I am sure yours must be too, is that the evidence is not circumstantial enough. At first sight it may look quite a formidable case; but on closer examination how plainly one sees everywhere the element of doubt! The defence, of course, is a complete denial of the story.

‘You shall hear what really happened to the accused that night. A simple ordinary quarrel between himself and his wife, such as any of us might have. That is all. Nothing more. And only one person's evidence, mark you, to contradict Nicolas Talbot's story. You are asked to believe Grieve's word before that of the prisoner: that is the issue and nothing more than that.

‘I have already been asked whether I am attempting to level any direct accusation against this man Grieve. Let me say, as I have said before, that it is no part of my duty to provide the police with alternative hypotheses for this murder. It is not for me to prove the guilt of another man – though I propose with the court's permission to call one witness whose evidence you may think has a significant bearing on this point. It may even occur to you that, whatever the truth, Grieve with his history would naturally be personally concerned in seeing the suspicion diverted to someone else. That is not for me to say. But let me remind you of another thing. It is not even for me to prove the innocence of the man you see in the dock. The whole onus of proof lies upon the Crown, who must prove Talbot's guilt
beyond all doubt
before you can bring in a verdict against him.'

Nick listened with a growing sense of comfort. One's spirits, one's hopes, constantly wavered between two extremes as the witnesses and the speakers came and went. When Tyler was on his feet he felt as good as a free man. When Wells rose he could smell Brixton again and feel the tightening of the rope.

He looked at the first witness for the defence in some surprise. So did most of the others in court. The tradition is well established that on a capital charge the defending counsel shall call the prisoner first. But Mr Tyler was not afraid of tradition.

As for Nick he had never seen this witness before.

‘Your name is Jonah Hartley and you live at No. 46, Loften Street?'

‘Yes.'

‘You rent the room immediately above the one in which the murder took place?'

‘Yes.'

‘Tell us what happened on the afternoon of the 28th March.'

‘WeIl, I was just going off to work – I work nights, see, and I was coming down the stairs when I heard raised voices in Miss Rusman's room and the door was half open, and as I passed I heard Miss Rusman say: ‘‘I'm not interested in what you think or feel, Mr Grieve. Kindly get out of this bedroom or I'll call the police.'' '

So this was the one witness, thought Nick.

‘Go on, Mr Hartley.'

‘Well, it not being my business, like, I was for going on, being a peaceable man; but just then Miss Rusman must have heard me passing, for she came to the door and called me in.'

‘What did you find?'

‘Grieve was standing by the mantelpiece looking red and awkward, and Miss Rusman was really angry, I could see that. She says to me, ‘‘Mr Hartley, would you please see Mr Grieve downstairs. He was just leaving,'' she says. So I waits a moment and then Grieve comes along and slouches off out without saying a word to either of us. Then Miss Rusman thanked me and I went too.'

‘Thank you, Mr Hartley.'

Sir Alfred was at once on his feet.

‘Was there anything in what you saw to suggest that Grieve had been pressing his attentions on Miss Rusman?'

‘Well … she was certainly angry about something.'

‘From what you saw or heard, might they not have been having words over another matter, say that Mr Grieve had gone up to ask for some back rent and Miss Rusman had refused to pay it?'

‘Well … it didn't look like that to me.'

‘I am not asking you what it looked like. I am asking you for a plain answer, yes or no. Was there anything you heard or saw inconsistent with a quarrel over the rent or some other ordinary matter?'

Hartley hesitated. ‘Maybe not.'

‘Can you say that it could not have been such a quarrel?'

‘.… No.'

Sir Alfred sat down. Mr Tyler got up.

‘Mr Hartley, if you were behind in your rent and the landlord came up to ask for back money, would you threaten him with the police?'

‘No.'

‘No,' said Mr Tyler, ‘I thought not,' and sat down.

A succession of minor witnesses followed. First an analyst who told of the discovery of glass particles in a rug in Talbot's bedroom. Then a series of people came forward to testify to the prisoner's good character. This Nick found the most embarrassing part of the trial, but Tyler had insisted on taking full advantage of his gamble. This saw the luncheon break through and it was not until the middle of the afternoon that there was a brief pause and a voice said:

‘Mrs Talbot …'

‘Mrs Talbot …'

Nick felt his mouth go dry.

She came in steadily enough and took her place in the witness-box, repeating the oath in a low clear voice. On the lapel of the severely tailored black suit she was wearing was the diamond clip he had given her for Christmas. In her pocket, though he did not know it, was the crystal elephant he had given her six weeks ago.

Once, just for a moment, she glanced at Nick and their eyes met. Then she turned to her counsel.

Mr Tyler was very kind. Seeing her so nervous to begin, he led off with a number of soothing and largely irrelevant questions to give her time to get her bearings. Everybody in the court seemed to be sitting forward to hear Philippa's evidence.

Gently the story came round to the night of the opera, the meeting with Elizabeth Rusman, the quarrel.

‘In short, Mrs Talbot, remembering that you are on oath, you can state quite definitely that you alone were responsible for your husband's head injury on the night of the murder?'

‘I swear it.'

‘Thank you.' Tyler abruptly sat down. The evening before he had said to Land, ‘Let Wells do the questioning. He won't find it easy.'

But Wells realized just as well as Tyler how easy it would be to lose the sympathy of the jury if he tried to harass this witness.

With the utmost courtesy he began:

‘This quarrel you say you had with your husband. What was it about?'

‘It wasn't really about anything. I was in a tired nervous state ready to be upset by almost anything. I really can hardly remember what began it.'

‘Yet it went so far, you say, that you threw a large glass bottle at him and cut his head open?'

Philippa glanced down at the box.

‘Yes … I'm ashamed to say.'

‘If I may say so, Mrs Talbot, you look a reasonable woman. But that is surely an unreasonable act you are confessing to?'

Philippa said: ‘I – I lost my temper. You see, my husband –'

‘One thing at a time, please. Would you or would you not describe it as an unreasonable act?'

‘I certainly think it was, now.'

‘You won't blame us, therefore, if we look on it in that light?'

‘No,' she said, and then quickly: ‘But I did do it.'

‘Did this – er – quarrel arise from seeing your husband's meeting with Elizabeth Rusman that evening?'

‘That more or less began it, yes.'

‘Did you resent the meeting?'

‘A little.'

‘And you say that your husband, after receiving the injury, at once put on his hat and coat and went out?'

‘Yes.'

‘Not even stopping to examine or tie up the injury?'

‘He was naturally angry and went straight out.'

‘Was it bleeding much?'

‘A little.'

‘But when the police came there was no blood to show?'

‘No, he left so quickly that there was no blood in the flat. He took his handkerchief with him.'

‘Nor was there a single sign of this quarrel in the way of stains or broken glass or corroborative evidence from a neighbour – that is – er – apart from the microscopic dust a witness has been at pains to discover?'

‘I cleaned it up,' said Philippa. ‘I've told you what happened.'

Mr Justice Ferguson leaned forward.

‘You ask us to believe that this bitter quarrel took place and left no evidence of any sort you could show the police?'

She turned, gripping the box. ‘My Lord, I washed out my things which were stained with the lotion and mopped it up off the floor, which is of oak. I brushed the broken glass into a piece of newspaper and carried it downstairs to the incinerator.'

‘Why were you so anxious to remove all traces of the affair?' asked his Lordship.

‘I was very sorry – and ashamed of what I'd done. I was expecting my husband back and I purposely tried to leave no sign of any quarrel. Home comings are important, aren't they, my Lord?'

For a few seconds a pair of faded but alert brown eyes stared into a pair of very clear hazel ones. The judge was the first to look away.

‘Go on, Sir Alfred.'

‘In the first place, Mrs Talbot, you denied ever having had this quarrel with your husband. Why?'

‘That was only because I wanted to keep it to myself – just as he did.'

Wells puffed out his lips, as if about to say ‘shush' to the whole court. ‘Mrs Talbot,' he said gently, ‘I am going to put a suggestion to you. You need not answer it. If you dont wish to. We all appreciate your grief at your husband's plight; you are no doubt still in love with him and are greatly concerned for the outcome of the trial. I am going to suggest to you that you did quarrel with your husband that evening, that he forced the quarrel on you in order to have a pretext for leaving you and going out. But I suggest that there is no truth in the story of your having thrown something at him, that he put forward this falsehood to explain the injury, and that you are supporting him out of a mistaken sense of loyalty.'

Philippa said, ‘ That isn't so! It did happen just as I've said. My Lord, I've told only the truth.'

Damn this trial! Nick thought. Damn that great fat crow with his tattered black gown. Standing there well-fed and shabby and self-righteous.

Someone touched his shoulder and he shook off the hand. Why couldn't the man –?

‘Nicolas Talbot!' said a loud voice, and a hand grasped his arm so that this time it could not be dislodged.

Nick looked across and saw that the witness-stand was empty. He looked at the warder beside him. It was his turn at last.

He found himself facing rows of hungry faces to whom previously he had only shown his back. He stared at them woodenly. Philippa was in court now, that was one comfort. She was sitting between John and Joan Newcombe. He could see them all and was conscious of their feelings without directly looking at them. Mike Grieve was there too.

I wonder, he thought, if Grieve really did it. I wonder if Tyler's move was good detection as well as good law.… Somehow it would have been easier to believe if Grieve had looked more of a villain and less of a fool. A perfect specimen of the small-time tough. But would he ever have had the guts to kill a woman with his hands? Knowing Elizabeth, Nick would have thought her able to handle this man without anyone's help. Grieve surely would not have-come off unscratched, as apparently he had done.

No, for all Tyler's cleverness, he was inclined to believe Grieve's story of the man coming down the stairs. And he was afraid the jury would do the same. Fortunately an accused man, through his counsel, could claim the best of both worlds. It was perfectly fair defence to imply in one breath that Grieve did it, and add in the next, ‘ But if you don't believe that, then you must believe in an unknown man X whom Elizabeth Rusman knew during the three missing years.'

And Philippa thought, so far they say the case has gone fairly well, and I can see by their eyes that they aren't deceiving me. If we come through this and he's free I swear I'll shoot myself before I ever quarrel with him again. Keep your fingers crossed, Nick. God, don't let that fat man twist it all back again.

It was nearly That Fat Man's turn. Tyler had four more questions to ask.

‘What was your reason for telling those different stories to the chemist and the doctor?'

‘In each case I made the first excuse that came into my head. I'd no wish to go into details of a family quarrel.'

‘This message Elizabeth Rusman scribbled on your programme. Did you know of its existence?'