Trial and Error (24 page)

Mr Todhunter also demanded to know what the doctor had said about his prospects of surviving the trial, and Mr Chitterwick was able to report that these were good.

“He said that provided you avoid the slightest overexertion or shock there's no reason why you shouldn't live another couple of months,” he said, marvelling slightly that Mr Todhunter and he were able to discuss this question of the latter's approaching death as calmly as if it were a mere visit to the theatre instead of a visit to another world.

“Ha!” said Mr Todhunter with satisfaction.

After that the evening was uneventful, except that at about half past eleven Mr Todhunter insisted upon sending for his solicitor in order to add a codicil to his will, leaving to the nurse (to whom he had taken a violent and quite unreasonable dislike) the sum of five pounds wherewith to purchase a complete set of the works of Charles Dickens, she having failed to recognize a growling allusion to Mrs Gamp which Mr Todhunter had privately considered rather telling.

Mr Benson was quite resigned. There were now over a hundred codicils to Mr Todhunter's will, and it had been redrafted completely just seven times during the last five months.

CHAPTER XVI

The first witness on the second day of the trial was Furze.

Sir Ernest greeted him in the box with an unctuous subservience which Mr Todhunter, from the dock, thought a little overdone.

“Mr Furze, it is you who are bringing this grave charge of murder against the accused?”
yy

“I am.”

“Will you tell my lord and the jury what caused you to take so grave a step?”

“It was because I felt convinced that a serious miscarriage of justice had been done and this appeared the only possible way of rectifying it.”

“Exactly. You are acting solely out of public spirit and for no other reason at all?”

“I hope so.”

“That,” said Sir Ernest with a little bow, “is after all only what one would expect from one with your record of public service, Mr Furze; for I am sure there is no need to say anything to the jury of your admirable and unselfish work in connection with the Middleman's League. Now, what was it, Mr Furze, that caused you to form the opinion that a miscarriage of justice had occurred?”

“Two conversations that I had with Mr Todhunter,” replied Furze, blinking behind his big spectacles.

“Will you tell my lord and the jury what the purport of these conversations was?”

Mr Todhunter, watching from the dock, approved of Furze's manner, deliberate as it was and evidently sincere. He made a note to the effect that Furze appeared to fulfil all the qualifications of the perfect witness. He answered only what he was asked, and no one could doubt that he was speaking the truth.

“The first conversation,” said Furze, “took place at my club about six months ago. I remember it clearly, for it was a very unusual conversation. Mr Todhunter, to the best of my recollection, opened the chief topic by asking me if I knew of anyone who needed murdering. I enquired in a jocular way whether he was proposing to murder anyone I recommended, and Mr Todhunter agreed that he was. We then debated the possibility of his assassinating either Hitler or Mussolini, an idea to which Mr Todhunter seemed much drawn; but I recommended him not to try, for various reasons which perhaps I need not recapitulate.”

“Quite so,” purred Sir Ernest. “Now you say that you received Mr Todhunter's suggestion of murdering any nominee of yours in a jocular spirit. Did that jocular spirit remain with you during the whole of the conversation that ensued?”

“It did.”

“You did not take the suggestion seriously?”

“I'm afraid not. I see now that I made a serious mistake.”

“One that you can hardly be blamed for, Mr Furze. Now you understood of course that Mr Todhunter had only a few months to live. Did you give him any advice as to how he might employ this period rather than devote it to murdering somebody?”

“Yes. I think I told him to have a good time and forget about Hitler and everyone else.”

“Very practical. It is only to be regretted that Mr Todhunter did not see fit to follow it. Was anything else said that you think the jury should hear?”

“I think something was said about the possibility of murdering a blackmailer or any other person who was making the lives of several people a burden.”

“Ah yes. You discussed with Mr Todhunter the idea of murdering some person, some complete stranger, who could be shown to be a cause of widespread unhappiness and misery?”

“Yes.”

“But for your part you did not take the discussion seriously?”

“Not for a moment.”

“Nor did you realise that Mr Todhunter was serious?”

“I thought he was toying with the idea, in an academic and idealistic way, but I certainly did not think that he would ever put it into action.”

“Precisely. Now you alluded to two conversations. What was the second?”

“The second took place about two months ago; that is, after Palmer's arrest for the murder but before his trial. Mr Todhunter visited me in my office and told me that it was he who had committed this murder. He asked my advice as to what he should do, since the police obviously did not believe his confession.''

“Yes, and what did you tell him?”

“I told him in that case it would be necessary to prove his contention, and I advised him to get into touch with a common friend, a Mr Chitterwick, who had had some experience in the detection of crime, and see if he could be persuaded to help detect the murder.”

“You mean, Mr Todhunter was to collaborate with Mr Chitterwick in detecting his own crime?”

“Exactly.”

“Was anything else said?”

“Yes. I advised Mr Todhunter not to be too much upset, since I considered it very doubtful that Palmer would be convicted. In fact I hardly considered it possible that he could be convicted in view of Mr Todhunter's story.”

“The conviction came as a great surprise to you?”

“A very great surprise.”

“You felt that a miscarriage of justice had occurred?”

“I was convinced that an appalling blunder had occurred.”

“Did you take any steps yourself?”

“Yes. I interviewed a high police official and satisfied myself that the authorities were quite genuine in their belief that they had the real murderer under lock and key.”

“But that did not allay your anxiety?”

“On the contrary, it increased it; because this could only mean that the police would prove obstructive to any reopening of the case.”

“You kept in touch with the investigations of Mr Chitterwick?”

“Yes.”

“Did what you leaned from him confirm or lessen your feeling that a miscarriage of justice had occurred?”

“It confirmed my opinion.”

“So in the end, acting with the full approval and co-operation of Mr Todhunter himself, you took this drastic step of filing a private charge of murder against him?”

“I did.”

“Thank you, Mr Furze.”

Mr Jamieson asked only a question or two, to bring out more strongly Furze's original impression that Mr Todhunter was only toying with the idea of murder; and Furze agreed that a man might carry such make-believe, right up to the last moment and yet never intend murder in his heart of hearts.

2

The stream of witnesses went on.

It lasted for three more full days, and it would be impossible even if it were of any use, to give so little as a summary of all their evidence.

Young Fuller had done his work well. Anyone who could give the smallest corroboration was called. The judge was very patient.

Witnesses were taken more or less in their consecutive order in the story.

At one point Mr Todhunter had a surprise. He knew that Farroway had been subpoenaed, but had never expected him to appear. A doctor's certificate of inability to attend seemed to Mr Todhunter the natural sequence of subpoenaing Farroway. But whether it was that young Fuller's methods were more efficacious than those of Palmer's solicitor or not, when Farroway's name was called, it was Farroway who entered the box.

Sir Ernest spared him as much as possible. His liaison with Jean Norwood was mentioned but not emphasised. It was upon certain conversations which he had held with Mr Todhunter that Farroway's evidence was chiefly required. Sir Ernest questioned him upon them.

Farroway responded nobly. If Sir Ernest was willing to spare him, he was not willing to spare himself. (Mr Todhunter suspected some plain speaking from Farroway's wife.) He was a useful witness in another way, too, for it was clear that he held no doubts about Mr Todhunter's guilt; and the more people who clearly felt that way, the more likely it was that the jury would follow them.

Farroway described his conversations with Mr Todhunter, at lunch in the expensive restaurant when Mr Todhunter had learned the extent of his infatuation for Miss Norwood and how it had broken up his home; and secondly, that long and fatal conversation in Farroway's lodgings.

While Farroway was describing this, the court was completely silent. At times Farroway's voice sunk almost to a whisper, but there was no need to ask him to speak up. The jury and the judge could hear even a whisper.

“I told him,” muttered Farroway in so broken a way that Mr Todhunter felt acutely embarrassed in his dock, “I told him, I think, that she was the wickedest woman I knew. I know I told him that I'd often thought of killing her myself but hadn't the courage. I remember saying she was more worth killing than anyone I'd ever met. I loved her then,” whispered Farroway with desperate courage, “but I couldn't help knowing what she was.”

“Mr Farroway,” said Sir Ernest, no less solemnly, “it is my duty to put a very painful question to you. Assuming that the accused was at that time debating with himself whether to kill this woman or not, do you agree that the words you used to him and the attitude you showed to him on this occasion were enough to turn the scale?”

Farroway lifted his head. “Yes,” he said, more loudly than he had spoken before. “It's a conclusion I can't escape. I must have incited him to kill her.”

Mr Jamieson's few questions, designed to show that Farroway as a novelist and therefore a student of character was quite ready to agree that Mr Todhunter had been incited not to kill Miss Norwood but merely to frighten her by the flourishing of a revolver, came as very much of an anticlimax.

On the whole Farroway's evidence was the most telling that had yet been given. It was obvious that the jury had been deeply impressed by it.

Then came Mr Budd, who no less nobly admitted to having inflamed Mr Todhunter with tales of Miss Norwood's unpleasing behaviour in her theatre. Mr Budd further was able to establish that Mr Todhunter had without a shadow of doubt been making enquiries about Miss Norwood and especially about her less attractive nature; and this, too, Mr Pleydell was able to confirm, with the notable addition of Mr Todhunter's question of whether, taking it by and large, the world would not be a more pleasant place with Miss Norwood out of it. Then came Mrs Vincent Palmer, to drive the point still further home.

Mrs Palmer was asked one other series of questions, which sounded highly mysterious.

“Have you,” said Sir Ernest, looking extremely cunning, “have you ever seen a revolver in the possession of your husband?”

Mrs Palmer agreed that she had.

“To your knowledge he possessed a revolver?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever handled it?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever fired it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. I just thought I'd like to, to see what it was like, one day when my husband was out.”

“When was that?”

“I couldn't possibly say. Not very long ago.”

“Was it within the last year?”

“Oh yes.”

“Within the last six months?”

“Possibly. I think it was one day in the late summer—last summer.”

“What did you fire at?”

“I fired it into a bed in the garden.”

Like a conjurer Sir Ernest whisked a piece of paper from the desk in front. “Please look at this.” The usher took it across the court, and Mrs Palmer duly looked at it. Mr Todhunter gazed at her with admiration. She was acting so well that it might have been the first time her eyes had ever rested on that piece of paper; but Mr Todhunter had learned a thing or two by this time about witnesses and their treatment, before and after entering the box.

“Is that a plan of your garden, Mrs Palmer?”

“Yes, I see that it is.”

“The flower beds are clearly marked?”

“Quite.”

“Will you show the jury into which bed you fired that shot?”

“Into this one. It's marked with a red cross.”

“Thank you, Mrs Palmer. That's all.”

The jury studied the plan while Mrs Palmer slipped quietly out of court. It had been an ordeal for her, as Mr Todhunter well knew, but she had carried it off bravely.

Sir Ernest caught Mr Todhunter's eye and very nearly winked. Mr Todhunter looked hastily the other way.

The questions had not been mysterious to him. In fact the whole idea behind them had been his own, and very proud Mr Todhunter was of it.

It had been a point against Palmer, at his own trial, that his revolver had been recently fired. Palmer had denied having fired it himself for years. Either his solicitor had omitted to cover the possibility of someone else having fired it, or else Mrs Palmer had unaccountably forgotten that she herself had done so. In either case Mr Todhunter, while still allowed to make enquiries on his own account, had eluded Mr Chitterwick one day and paid another visit to Bromley where, without preamble, he had bluntly asked Mrs Palmer whether it might not have been she who had fired the revolver; and Mrs Palmer, after a long pause, had agreed that it might.

Mr Todhunter had then ascertained that Mrs Palmer had in fact fired into a certain flower bed, and he had gone back to London to send both Mr Chitterwick and the firearms expert down to Bromley in their turn. The expert had been given a spade and told to dig in the flower bed. In due course he had turned up a lead bullet which could only have been fired from an army pattern revolver; and when the bullet came to be examined, there was no difficulty in proving that it had been fired from Palmer's own revolver. And of course there could have been no hanky-panky about the whole thing, for Palmer's revolver was still in the possession of the police and could not have been borrowed for any such reprehensible purpose as the faking of evidence. By a piece of smart work, therefore, Mr Todhunter had seriously damaged if not destroyed one of the worst points against Palmer.

To clear the matter up, Sir Ernest called the firearms expert next to prove both where the bullet had been found and what revolver it must have been fired from.

Sir Ernest then put the bullet in as an exhibit and produced another cat out of his bag. Showing the expert the shapeless piece of lead that had been dug out of the beam in Miss Norwood's barn, he asked if that could also have been fired from the same revolver. And most obligingly the expert replied that it could not.