The Mammoth Book of Unsolved Crimes (72 page)

Although prisoners had been allowed to give evidence on their own behalf for only three or so years, there had already grown up a practice that such evidence should be given
before
the other defence witnesses, if only, as far as possible, to make fabrication of evidence more difficult. But Wild seems to have been allowed, without objection, to call Gardiner last. His first witness was Mrs Gardiner, who claimed to have been unable to sleep that night until five o’clock owing to aches and pains that she attributed to the thunder: she remembered remarking to her husband, at about twenty past two, that it was beginning to get light: in cross-examination she conceded that her husband had not told her of the scandal until the morning of the Sibton inquiry.
³²

Amelia Pepper said that she lived next door to the Gardiners and, owing to the thinness of the partition, was able to hear everything that went on in their house. She had herself gone to bed at one o’clock and had heard her neighbours retire at two o’clock: at twenty past two she had come downstairs and had remained there until a quarter past four, apparently because she was worried by the storm. She had stayed in the front room and had from time to time opened the front door to see if the storm had stopped: at no time did she notice any footsteps or hear anyone leave the Gardiners’ home, although she did hear somebody moving about and understood it to have been Mrs Gardiner (who admitted getting up to look at one of the children). Amelia Pepper’s tale was an odd one but, if believed, it provided an alibi for Gardiner after two o’clock: the lady must be distinguished from Rosanna Dickenson, the brontophobe with whom the Gardiners claimed to be until two o’clock.

Martha Walker was called to corroborate Mrs Gardiner’s explanation of the broken bottle, which was that she had filled it with camphorated oil and given it to Rose about Eastertime for a cold. Mrs Walker was a regular attendant at the Sibton chapel and had known the Gardiners for some twelve years: her daughter was a member of the Sibton choir. She was able to remember Rose telling her that she had cured a cold with camphorated oil given her by Mrs Gardiner: this conversation was not strictly admissible in evidence, but the prosecution generously did not object to it.

Gardiner then gave his evidence. It was mostly a string of denials of each separate incriminating fact. To account for the blood on his knife, he told the rabbit story and swore that he had not cleaned the knife since 31 May. To account for being seen outside his house at ten o’clock, he said that he was watching the storm coming up. In view of the nature of his evidence, it is not surprising that he was unshaken by cross-examination.

Wild then sought to show that the Rev. Mr Guy had described the evidence of Wright and Skinner as a fabrication and for this purpose proposed to call an elder named Abraham Goddard. The judge doubted if this was admissible, Wild referred to Lord Denman’s Act, and the judge then said that it might be wiser to admit the evidence even if, strictly, it was inadmissible. Goddard then quoted Guy as having called the youths’ tale a fabrication, but it emerged in cross-examination that the superintendent had also said that it was a case of two for and two against and that he preferred those within the chapel to those without.

Of the other witnesses who contradicted Nunn’s audition tests and Gurrin’s handwriting evidence, little need be said: they made a poor showing and Wild, in his final address, obviously realized their shortcomings. He explained that Gurrin was a professional witness: the defence witnesses were not and were therefore at the mercy of a skilled cross-examiner like Mr Dickens. On the other hand, both Gardiner and his wife had stood up to this last test and emerged unscathed. He also made the amazing suggestion that the footprints seen by Morriss may have been a blind to draw suspicion in the direction of Gardiner, which hardly seems a fruitful line of argument. Dickens replied, expressing the hope that he had discharged with consideration his distasteful duty of cross-examining the prisoner and his wife: in the prosecution view, the murderer had to fulfil certain conditions and Gardiner was alone in fulfilling them all. I deal so cavalierly with counsels’ arguments as we shall be meeting them on a second occasion.

On the other hand, Mr Justice Grantham was to have only one occasion to address his mind to the Peasenhall problem. His summing up was strongly adverse to the prisoner, but not unwarrantably so: it certainly did not justify all the bitter strictures that have been passed upon it by posterity. He began, as seems to have been his custom,
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by saying that the case was a remarkable one and that he could not remember one in which the issues were so difficult. The jury did not have to decide the truth of the scandal in the chapel, nor could they place any reliance on the verdict of the Sibton elders in view of their obvious preference for the version given by their colleague: the important fact was that, as a result of the affair, Guy had felt it incumbent on himself to caution Gardiner about his attitude to the charming chorister. There was no evidence that Davis was aware of the girl’s pregnancy and no reason to suspect him of the murder. Crimes of this class were as a rule committed by the last person one would suspect, and therefore the prisoner’s good character did not affect the matter much. The murder was deliberately planned, and Gardiner’s conduct, both in the six months preceding the crime and upon hearing of it, struck his lordship as suspicious: it was odd that he should have displayed no emotion on hearing of her death. The evidence of Morriss was most important: no bloodstains were found, but then the jury was well aware of the ease with which India rubber soles could be washed: the judge did not appear to realize that it was never suggested that the murderer stepped in the blood at all. It did not matter that Mrs Crisp had originally timed the scream between one and two o’clock but could no longer be sure: in such circumstances, it was hard for anyone to be sure. The presence of the charred paper was not important, since the newspaper concerned had a wide circulation: of far greater importance was the little bottle with Gardiner’s name on it, and the jury might think it improbable that the girl would herself have filled it with paraffin. The similarity of the envelopes was not important since they were of a common type. The evidence as to the similarity of handwriting given by Gurrin was highly significant and the contradiction of his evidence by the defence witnesses was “lamentably deficient”. In short, Mr Justice Grantham ran true to form.

The jury retired at a quarter past four and returned at half-past six to ask the judge what was the inference to be drawn from the absence of blood on the accused’s clothing. Grantham properly advised them that it was a point in his favour, although it was not and could not of itself be conclusive of his guiltlessness. The jury again retired until twenty minutes to nine when they announced their inability to reach a verdict. It was soon evident that eleven were for conviction when the dissentient was asked by the judge if further time might make him change his opinion. “I have not made up my mind not to agree,” was the reply, “if I was convinced that the prisoner was guilty, but I have heard nothing to convince me that he is guilty.” There was a swiftly suppressed burst of applause, and the jury was discharged. It was subsequently suggested that the juror was not a believer in capital punishment, but a careful analysis of his remark suggests rather that he was not a believer in circumstantial evidence.

And so Gardiner had to be tried again. Both prosecution and defence had shown their hand and both were aware of what they had to meet. The English practice, in the ordinary way, results in the prosecution putting all its cards on the table, while the defence need disclose nothing until there is no time to refute its story. Gardiner’s advisers were therefore somewhat at a disadvantage, but they used the opportunity to bring forward some fresh evidence and in particular to unearth certain derogatory incidents from the past of that hoary old pry Henry Rouse. For a while there was a suggestion of entrusting the defence to Sir Charles Gill but this was felt to be unfair to Wild and most amply did he justify the trust reposed in him. The same counsel accordingly crossed swords again at Ipswich on 21 January 1903, for another four-day trial of the old issue.

The judge, on this second occasion, was Mr Justice Lawrance. His Chancery background had not fully prepared him for the hurlyburly of the criminal courts but he had by now experienced twelve years in the King’s Bench Division and his was a more judicial personality than that of Mr Justice Grantham. He was strong enough to rebuke Wild when necessary and it will not be anticipating the story too much to say that he was not too favourably impressed with Gardiner’s version of his relations with Rose.

Dickens was never a brutal prosecutor: he had just come from the Old Bailey where he had put up a valiant though vain effort on behalf of Kitty Byron. He opened his case temperately and was far too good a tactician to overcall his hand: counsel can never be sure that a witness will come up to his proof. His survey of the facts was accurate, apart from his adding a decade to the prisoner’s age. In his view, the interchange in the Doctor’s Chapel and in particular the details of it given by Skinner were beyond invention and this incident was the keystone to the case. He indulged in a little theorizing in respect of the oil lamp and the broken bottle, but his theory was sound and met all the facts: the murderer had brought the bottle of paraffin to start a fire, but he had corked it so well that he was unable to open it: he had then dismantled the oil lamp, but had been unable to extract the combustible fluid from it and had then smashed the bottle, forgetting that it bore his name. This evidence, and all the other evidence, pointed at Gardiner as the culprit.
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After plans and photographs had been proved, George Wright told his story. Wild tried to discredit him by suggesting that he had been reprimanded at the works by Gardiner but, since the first trial, Wright had ascertained the exact date of the rebuke and it had been
after
the chapel incident: witness said that, if anything, he was grateful to the accused, who had been responsible for his promotion to wheelwright. He agreed that five or seven years earlier he and his friends had observed one Cady
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and his young woman from a tree: pressed by Wild as to why he had talked about it, he made the reasonable reply, “They were in my mother’s orchard and they had no business there.” He could have added that he cannot have been more than fifteen at the time.

Alphonso Skinner, the older observer, was more firmly handled by Wild who was so domineering that first Dickens and then the judge had to intervene. To the suggestion that he had learnt his story by heart came the reasonable retort that he had by now told it many times, to the elders, to the magistrates, to the coroner, and at the previous trial. When pressed too hard to concede that Gardiner had always denied the indecency and always admitted being in the chapel with Rose, Fonzo remarked that, at the works, Gardiner had originally denied ever going to the chapel at all. Wild sat down hurriedly.

The Rev. John Guy, superintendent of the Wangford circuit, told of the inconclusive investigation at Sibton: he agreed that he had, at one time, mistakenly said that Rose Harsent was questioned by the elders. He became angry when counsel suggested that his memory was defective, and denied ever describing the chapel incident as a trumped-up affair. It was quite clear that the minister was never satisfied of Gardiner’s innocence but he pointed out that one of the difficulties of pursuing the matter was that the next investigatory body was comprised of himself, Gardiner, and one other elder. In his view Rouse was senior to Gardiner in Primitive Methodist hierarchy since he was a lay preacher and Gardiner was not. Rather surprisingly, Wild elicited from Guy that he had himself been taxed on one occasion with comparable indiscretions: as counsel took the same line with Rouse, the jury can hardly have formed a favourable impression of the Sibton elders, of whom of course the accused was one.

Henry Rouse gave his age as seventy-three and claimed to have been a Primitive Methodist for thirty-five years. He had come to Sibton some two years prior to the chapel incident, in which, so he claimed, he had taken Gardiner’s part. He told his tale of the subsequent association between the accused and the dead girl but, however much Wild might seek to discredit him, there was no gainsaying that in the April,
when Rose was pregnant but before Mrs Crisp had taxed her
, Rouse had had that letter written to the choirmaster taxing
him
with excessive familiarity. Rouse had to admit bringing a charge of arson against a thirteen-year-old boy which was dismissed by the magistrates. This was the second murder trial at which he had given evidence but it was not his fault he had not given evidence in the police court. It was true that he had himself once been accused of misconducting himself with the wife of a farmer whom he had persuaded to look after a sow for him, and it was said that, under the joint pretence of visiting the sow and spreading the gospel, he had called on the lady for other than religious purposes. This was quite false, as was an accusation of misconduct with another woman, although it was true that he had left the district shortly after these accusations. He was not much more fortunate in his new abode, where he quarrelled with a villager over money and pursued his quarrel by telling the vicar that his enemy’s daughters were a couple of whores. It was not an impressive performance, and Wild had once had to interrupt him by saying, “I don’t want any preaching.” This amazing man had been a lay preacher for a quarter of a century: in private life he described himself as a labourer.

Harry Harsent, Rose’s fourteen-year-old brother, said that he had often taken letters between Gardiner and his sister in both 1901 and 1902: he agreed that at the previous trial he said that he had taken no such letters in 1902 and supposed that was the truth: Constable Nunn had not tried to make him remember since. On the other hand, Wild did not cross-examine the postman who had delivered the assignation note at a quarter past three on the afternoon before the murder, although he claimed to have delivered similar envelopes to Rose on three or four other occasions. It should be made clear that Gardiner admitted writing twice to Rose, and that she had written once to him, about the choice of hymns for choir practice. Rose was a girl who kept her letters and, if there had been others, it is curious that they too had not been preserved, if not for romantic reflection at least with an eye on subsequent proceedings in bastardy.