Trial and Error (31 page)

“I understand it's touch and go with me, at any minute?” suggested Mr Todhunter with the hint of apology with which he always referred to his impending death.

“You're going to bed straight away,” said the doctor, briskly putting up his stethoscope. “And what's more, you're going to stay there.”

Mr Todhunter suddenly became aware that the idea of bed was not unattractive.

“It's been a bit of a strain,” he mumbled.

4

There was one thing that bothered Mr Todhunter a good deal during the next day or two, and really only one thing. That was the constant presence of two warders in the cell with him. Whether he was sleeping or waking, reading or thinking, in bed or in the more private apartment which opened off the cell, there they always were, not watching him obtrusively but never taking their attention off him. Mr Todhunter, who was a solitary by choice as well as through force of circumstances, found their presence at times decidedly irksome.

Not that they were not good fellows; all six of them; for they took duty in pairs on eight-hour shifts. One pair in particular who usually took the midday to 8 p.m. spell of duty Todhunter was always glad to see. Of these, Birchman, the elder, who had conducted him to the cell in the first place, a big, burly man with a bald head and a walrus moustache to compensate, was an excellent companion, not at all self-conscious and always ready to perform any service that Mr Todhunter from his bed might demand. Fox, the second man, was not so easy in his manner and was obviously a little worried by his position; he was of the military type, a shade stiff, and lacked the fatherly friendliness of Birchman; but Mr Todhunter had no fault to find with him. In fact the three of them made an excellent trio, and it was not twenty-four hours before Mr Todhunter's sardonic cackle was to be heard at fairly frequent intervals, followed by an occasional deep guffaw from Birchman and a less frequent subdued bark of a laugh from Fox.

Mr Todhunter indeed came to know all his gaolers very well. He liked them and was touched by the eagerness with which they were always suggesting a game of draughts or any other diversion which might. be calculated to take Mr Todhunter's mind off the immediate present and future.

“It's as hard on us as it is on you,” Birchman would say frankly. “Harder in a way, you might say especially in
this
case,”

“No need to be hard on anyone in this case,” Mr Todhunter would cackle. “To tell you the truth, Birchman, I'm enjoying myself very much.”

“Darn it all, I really believe you are.” And Birchman would rub his bald head and look at Mr Todhunter at ease in his comfortable bed with such a comical expression of bewilderment that Mr Todhunter would cackle again.

Then the governor would drop in quite often for a chat. He soon lost his first embarrassment, which Mr Todhunter decided had been caused in equal parts by his own notoriety and by the fact that the two of them came from the same social stratum; and then he would discuss with intelligence and zest the whole question of penal reform, prison conditions and such kindred matters, in which he evidently took a deep interest. Mr Todhunter, delighted to find the man so human and so unlike the unimaginative, reactionary martinet that a prison governor is often pictured, drew him out with cunning and incorporated many of his ideas in articles for the
London Review.

The doctor, too, came in three or four times a day and could usually be relied on for a chat; and once the chaplain had been made to realise that Mr Todhunter was not interested in dogma, refused to study the orthodox textbooks of the Christian religion and would not discuss the condition of his soul (with which he was forced to appear immodestly satisfied), he, too, proved a good fellow, ready to come and talk on any subject under the sun at two minutes notice when the somewhat limited intelligence of Mr Todhunter's gaolers began to pall.

Nor was paper lacking, in unlimited quantities and all neatly stamped with the name of the prison, so that Mr Todhunter was able to cover sheets of it in his small, angular writing for the benefit of Ferrers and the
London Review;
a series of articles, he could not but flatter himself, quite unique in the history of critical journalism.

Finally, as to creature comforts, Mr Todhunter found himself not permitted to smoke (but only by doctor's orders) and had no wish to do so, and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food. Enquiring, he was informed that it was based on the standard hospital diet, but the bacon and eggs for breakfast which had so roused his approbation had been specially ordered for him by the doctor.

Altogether, in his comfortable quarters and surrounded on all sides by the friendliest consideration, Mr Todhunter began to regret that his spell in prison was necessarily so short (three clear Sundays from the date of conviction).

It was in fact difficult to realise that he was only being cherished like this in order to be hanged.

5

Of one particular piece of irony Mr Todhunter was acutely aware.

There were two condemned cells in the prison. One was occupied by himself. The other was still tenanted by Vincent Palmer.

For his own conviction had not, as he had somewhat vaguely imagined it would be, been instantly followed by the automatic pardon and apologetic release of Palmer. Nothing of the sort. The authorities had Palmer in the condemned cell, and it looked as if they meant to keep him there.

Two days passed, three, four; and still came no news of Palmer's freedom.

Had Mr Todhunter but known it, he was not the only person to feel agitated on this score. After forty-eight hours the authorities, it was true, had begun to feel that they could now safely hang Mr Todhunter; but it appeared that they could not make up their minds to let Palmer go. On the third day a question was asked in the House.

There had been time for very little notice, but the time had been long enough for a permanent reprieve to be hurried through, which the home secretary was thus enabled to announce, with a slightly injured air, to the House. But he could not announce that the reprieve was accompanied by a free pardon; and to the contention of the questioner's opposition supporters that since a jury, with a fuller grasp of the facts than was available to the first jury, had believed Mr Todhunter's story, therefore Palmer should go free, only an evasive reply was returned. Pressed, the home secretary was understood to intimate that the authorities were by no means satisfied with Palmer's position as a possible accessory before and/or after the fact.

This hedging pleased no one, with the possible exception of the home secretary himself; and the newspapers the next day were for once in their history unanimous in demanding that Palmer should be given the benefit of such a far-fetched doubt and be released forthwith. Whereupon the home secretary, a doctrinaire and obstinate, dug his toes well in and refused to budge. The only result was that Palmer was removed from the condemned cell and placed in the gaol proper, among such burglars, thugs and psychoanalytical cases as happened to be his neighbours.

As for Mr Todhunter, when the governor told him the news, he was seized with such a fit of rage that Fox was despatched posthaste there and then for the doctor.

“It's all right,” said Mr Todhunter grimly. “I'm not going to die till I've got Palmer out of here, so you can take that damned syringe of yours away.”

The doctor, who was trying to administer a quarter grain of morphia for the benefit of Mr Todhunter's nerves, hesitated. The governor it was, after all, who succeeded in soothing his agitated prisoner.

“It's all right, Todhunter. Perhaps I oughtn't to tell you, but the Press is solid for letting Palmer go, and the country's behind 'em. No government would have the guts to hold out.”

“That's more like it,” growled Mr Todhunter.

As the door closed behind them the doctor grinned at his colleague.

“Lucky you thought of that. I believe if I'd tried to inject him, he might have resisted; and as little effort as that would probably kill him straightaway.”

“We can't have that at any cost,” muttered the governor.

The lock clicked behind them.

Mr Todhunter was lying back on his pillows, apparently exhausted. The other two had spoken in low voices, as they passed through the doorway. But Mr Todhunter was not so exhausted that his ears had failed to retain their sharpness. He had overheard, with interest.

6

The result showed itself the next morning, on the tubby little doctor's first visit.

“I want to get up,” announced Mr Todhunter after he had been sounded and examined as usual.

“Sorry, I'm afraid that can't be done,” returned the doctor cheerfully.

“Oh, it can't, can't it? Mr. Todhunter cackled maliciously. “Why not, eh?”

“You're in no state to get up, I'm afraid.”

“And suppose I have visitors.”

“It can be arranged for you to see them in here.”

The malice in Mr Todhunter's cackle deepened. “I understand of course. You've got to keep me alive, eh?”

“Naturally.”

“You've got to look after me as tenderly as a newborn babe. No patient was ever more precious to you. At all costs you must keep me alive—to be hanged?”

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. “You know the situation, Todhunter, as well as I do.”

“A bit barbarous, don't you think?”

“I won't contradict you. It's damned barbarous. But there it is.”

“So you won't let me get up?”

“I can't.”

Mr Todhunter cackled again. “Well, I'm sorry, Doctor, but I want to get up, and I'm going to get up. And I don't quite see how you're going to stop me.”

The doctor smiled. “What's the blackmail?”

“You know as well as I do. You can't keep me in bed by force. If you do, I'll struggle. And if I struggle…” Mr Todhunter looked positively baleful.

The doctor laughed outright. “You're too intelligent to be a prisoner. Well, and if I do let you get up, will you behave yourself?”

“I'll make a bargain with you,” grinned Mr Todhunter. Like Mr Ramsbottom of immortal fame, he had thought it all out and he'd got his own way; but he was not going to jeopardise things by going on to laugh fit to bust. “I want to look over the prison. If you'll let me do that and sit out in the sun occasionally and stretch my legs when I want to, I'll undertake not to struggle with any officer of the prison in the execution of his duties. (Dear me, execution's an unfortunate word, isn't it?)” Mr Todhunter tee-hee'd horribly. “Well, do you agree?”

“This is a matter for the governor,” said the doctor. “Mind waiting till I've consulted him?”

“Not in the least,” replied Mr Todhunter amiably.

The doctor vanished.

Mr Todhunter grinned at his keepers. “You know, I've got you all by the short hairs,” he said.

Fox looked a little shocked that anyone could have the officers of one of H.M.'s prisons by the short hairs, but Birchman laughed robustly.

“You have, and that's a fact. We've been warned not to handle you. Well, well, you're a smart one, and that's a fact.”

“That's two facts,” corrected Mr Todhunter pedantically.

The governor frowned on Mr Todhunter.

“It's impossible to grant your request. The regulations lay it down that you're to be kept apart from all other prisoners. They're not allowed even to catch a glimpse of you.”

“Dear me, what a pariah that makes one feel. Now, may I speak to you alone, Governor?”

The governor made a sign to the two warders, who filed out of the cell.

“No, you stay, Doctor,” commanded Mr. Todhunter.

The doctor stayed.

Mr Todhunter climbed gingerly out of bed, a long, stringy figure in his pale pink pyjamas. He gripped the end of the table.

“I thought we'd better have no witnesses to your discomfiture,” he observed seriously to the governor. “Now watch, please. I have hold of the end of this table. If you don't grant my request, I shall lift the table up. The strain will be too much for me. I shall drop dead at your feet. Ask the doctor.”

The governor glanced anxiously at his colleague,

“I'm bound to tell you it's true,” the latter confirmed. “It'd finish him.”

The governor pulled his moustache.

“Look here, Todhunter, be reasonable.”

“I won't be reasonable,” said Mr Todhunter mutinously and gave the table a little tilt.

“Wait!” implored the governor. “Now look here, I can't possibly take such a decision on my own responsibility. It cuts right across prison discipline. No, wait, man! Will you let me ask the permission of the Home Office?”

“Oh, certainly,” agreed Mr Todhunter courteously.

The governor drew a breath of relief. “You stay with him, Doctor. I'll go and telephone at once.” He marched out.

The doctor and Mr Todhunter grinned at each other.

“Like to go back to bed while you're waiting?” said the doctor.

“No, thank you,” said Mr Todhunter. “I'll sit here.” He sat down carefully in a comfortable chair by the fire and began to massage his knees.

The doctor lit a cigarette. It was not his pigeon, and the break in the monotony rather tickled him.

The governor was away from nearly twenty minutes.

Mr Todhunter saw at once from his expression that something had gone wrong.

“I'm sorry, Todhunter,” said the governor curtly. “The Home Office refuses to entertain your request. On the other hand they feel there is no need for you to be kept in bed. You may get up, and you may also take exercise at the usual times and in the usual place.”

“But. . .” began Mr Todhunter.

“That is all I have to say,” the governor cut him short.

7

Mr Todhunter was extremely angry.

He had been outmaneuvered, and he knew it. The Home Office was cunning. It did not want to hang him after all. The Home Office would, in fact, be most grateful to Mr Todhunter if he would kindly go ahead and kill himself. The Home Office would then be free to deal with Vincent Palmer just as it saw fit, without the handicap of Mr Todhunter's execution to tie its hands.