“No, sir.” Finney squared his shoulders, assuming a brave look. “I was the only one. If something blew up, I didn’t want them to get hurt.”
“A commendable caution, I’m sure,” Savidge remarked in a dry tone. “You testified that you applied the labels to the bottles. Where did you do this?”
Detective Finney smiled. “Right on the side, sir.” The spectators tittered.
Savidge smiled. “Very good, Detective, very good, indeed. Where were you when you applied the labels?”
“In the defendants’ rooms, sir. I labeled ’ em as I found ’em.”
“Thank you. You testified that you handled the bottles with care. How exactly did you handle them?”
Finney frowned. “Sir?”
“Did you pick them up by the base?” Savidge asked patiently. “By the neck? Did you cradle them in your hands? Did you wear gloves?”
“No gloves.” Finney’s grin was crooked. “But I was careful. Didn’t want to get blown to pieces, y’see.”
“I do see,” Savidge said. He turned away as if to sit down, and the detective, obviously relieved, took a step backward preparatory to leaving the box. The prosecutor opened his mouth to call the next witness, but Savidge turned quickly, catching them both off their guard.
“And how about fingerprints, Detective Finney? Since fingerprint evidence prevailed in this very courtroom only two days ago, we must not neglect it. I don’t suppose you made an effort to wipe the bottles clean of any fingerprints that may have been left by persons who handled them prior to your discovery?”
“Wipe them clean?” Finney darted a surprised look at the prosecutor. “No, I didn’t see any reason to-”
“Very good, Detective. Now, then, did you make any effort to refrain from leaving your fingerprints on the bottles?”
Kate noticed that the judge seemed to be listening with a greater interest.
Finney frowned. “Well, no. I had to put on the labels, y’see, which means that-”
“So we are likely to find your fingerprints on all three of these bottles?”
“I suppose,” Finney said, now quite clearly nettled. “But I don’t know what you’re-”
Sims had gotten to his feet. “I would like to ask my estimable friend what he-”
“Thank you, Detective,” Savidge said. “That will be all.”
The judge was leaning forward, a slight frown on his face. “Does counsel for the defense wish to explain to the jury what fingerprints are? I rather think that most of them are puzzled.”
“I do indeed, but not at the present time, may it please your lordship,” Savidge replied. “I expect to have occasion to do so later.”
“Very well.” The judge took out his gold watch and consulted. “Twenty minutes to the luncheon adjournment.” He peered down at the prosecution. “Mr. Sims? Will that be sufficient time to present your next witness?”
“I believe so, Your Honor,” Sims replied. With a sidelong glance at Savidge, he added, “Unless my honored colleague plans a lengthy cross-examination.”
Savidge smiled.
“We’ll risk it,” the judge said, and tapped his gavel. “Proceed, Mr. Sims.”
“Call Mr. George Baker,” the prosecution said.
Mr. George Baker, sworn, identified himself as a chemist employed by Scotland Yard to conduct routine chemical analyses. He had, he testified, analyzed the contents of three ginger-beer bottles brought to him by Detective Finney.
“And what did your analysis reveal, Mr. Baker?” asked Sims.
Mr. Baker spoke with the precision that Kate might have expected from a chemist. “In the bottle labeled
“A little over a pint, all told.” Sims’s face was somber. He seemed to suppress a small shudder. “And how might an Anarchist use nitric acid? As a weapon, I mean.”
“In concentrated form, it can cause severe burns-thrown into a person’s face, for instance. And it is an active ingredient of nitroglycerine, a well-known explosive.”
“I see.” Sims paused. “And to make nitroglycerine, you also need-”
“Glycerine, of course.” At this elementary answer, Mr. Baker smiled in a self-deprecating way.
The courtroom buzzed. The judge rapped his gavel sharply. Sims raised his voice over the hubbub. “You’ve had an opportunity to analyze the contents of the bottle labeled Exhibit C, Mr. Baker?”
“Yes. It contains glycerine.”
“So the Anarchists had, ready at hand, the ingredients of a powerful explosive. Is that not correct?”
“That’s correct, sir. And nitroglycerine is the explosive compound in dynamite.”
There was an audible gasp in the court, and several small squeals from the more fashionably-dressed of the ladies. One fanned herself, while another appeared to be searching in her reticule for her salts. The journalists and artists along the wall were scribbling and sketching madly. Kate looked at Charles and saw that he wore a faint smile.
The prosecutor cast a sympathetic glance at the spectators. “But there is nothing to fear from these bottles, I understand, since the substances are not in combination. The ladies in this court are safe, are they not?”
“Yes,” Baker said dryly, “they are safe.”
“However, since each of these four bottles contains an ingredient of an explosive, each therefore falls under the sanctions of the Explosives Act.” He put on a pair of reading glasses, took a sheet of paper from his assistant, and read aloud, “ ‘Explosives are to be defined as any apparatus or substance used or adapted for causing, or aiding in causing, any explosion.’ Is that correct?”
“That is correct.”
Sims cast a triumphant glance in the direction of the defense. “Then, sir, we are justified in calling these containers of explosives ‘bombs,’ are we not?”
“I believe so, sir,” Baker said.
“That will be all, Mr. Baker,” Sims said conclusively, and swept to his seat.
Savidge rose. “I have several questions of the witness.”
The judge pursed his lips. “You will be brief, won’t you, Counsel?”
Savidge bowed. “I fear I cannot promise, my lord. However, I shall certainly try to-”
The judge gave an audible sigh. “Proceed.”
“Very well. Mr. Baker, the nitric acid that you found in the bottles labeled
The chemist spoke somewhat reluctantly. “Nitric acid has many industrial uses related to metallurgy. It is also used to make certain fertilizers.”
“It could be used to etch metal printing plates, could it not?”
Mr. Baker was wary. “So I understand.”
“So it might not be surprising if nitric acid were found in the possession of a printer? And what about glycerine?”
“Glycerine,” Mr. Baker acknowledged slowly, “has a number of applications related to medicine.”
“It is used in soap, is it not? And in other cleaners? Could not Dr. Gabriel’s Pure Medicinal Glycerine also be used to remove printers’ ink from hands and equipment?”
“If you’re suggesting that-”
“I am only suggesting, Mr. Baker, that these substances have many innocent uses. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I suppose. But in combination-”
“But the ingredients were
Mr. Baker sighed. “That is correct.”
“Nor did any of one of the three defendants have in his possession all the ingredients required to concoct an explosive?”
“I… don’t believe so.”
“Very good,” Savidge said, with the air of a man who is finally getting somewhere. “Now, tell us how you handled these bottles.”
“Delicately. I had no way of knowing whether they might contain an unstable explosive compound.” Baker paused. “However, once I unscrewed the stoppers of the ginger-beer bottles, there was little need to run an analysis. In fact, I was glad I was wearing rubber gloves.”
Savidge looked puzzled. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Nitric acid fumes are very strong and quite distinctive. As I mentioned earlier, in concentrated form, the substance causes serious burns to the skin. It turns a bright yellow and begins to peel off after a little time.”
Kate noticed that Charles, who had been watching the proceedings intently, was writing again in his notebook.
“So you never touched these bottles with your bare fingers?” Savidge asked.
“Absolutely not,” Mr. Baker replied, with emphasis.
“Thank you.” Savidge looked up at the bench. “That concludes my examination of this witness, if your lordship pleases.”
“I am indeed pleased,” the judge said, with obvious relief. “We will break for lunch, and return at two P.M.” He banged his gavel sharply. “Court is in recess.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Until the opening of the first tea shops, there was nowhere a lady could have a meal by herself, nowhere for women to meet their friends outside their own homes; it was inconceivable for them to go to a public restaurant unescorted by husband or brother… Roger Fulford in Votes for Women contends that the tea shop was an integral part of the Women’s Suffrage Movement.
Alison Adburgham,
Kate had thought that she and Charles might have lunch together. He seemed, however, to be going off with Savidge, probably to talk over what had transpired that morning, and she did not like to intrude.
Still thinking about what she had heard that morning, she made her way out of the courtroom, left the Old Bailey, and walked the short distance to Ludgate Circus, where she chanced with pleasure upon a white-and-gold-fronted J. Lyons & Co. Ltd. tea shop, next door to Salmon & Gluckstein’s tobacconist shop.
