“Who’s Old Lofty?”
“Sorry. The headmaster. It’s just a nickname.”
“His real name is Mr. Lofthouse. Is that right?”
“Yes. And he’s tall too so…” Matthew laughed nervously without finishing his sentence.
“You were lying when you told Mrs. Bradshaw that you were waiting to see the headmaster. You accept that, don’t you?”
The boy nodded.
“That’s a yes, is it, Matthew? For the record. The tape won’t pick it up if you just nod.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. Now what did Mrs. Bradshaw do when you told her this lie?”
“She didn’t believe me. I don’t know why.”
“Perhaps because you’re not a good liar, Matthew.”
“Mr. Lambert,” said the judge crossly. “I’ve warned you about this. Let the witness say what happened without interrupting him. Go on, Matthew. Tell us what Mrs. Bradshaw did.”
“She went in the study and found Tom in there and then she called the headmaster and he made us empty our pockets and that’s when he found the paperweight. Tom had it in his pocket.”
“He’d stolen it. Yes?” asked Miles.
“We were going to put it back afterward. I already told you that,” replied Matthew defensively. “Lofty believed us. That’s why he only wrote to our parents and didn’t expel us or do anything like that. He was quite decent, really.”
“Yes, he certainly was,” said Miles. “Now, I’ve only got a few more questions, Matthew, and the first one is this: have you talked to Thomas Robinson about your evidence?”
“We’ve talked about the case at school. Everyone has.”
“Have you talked about what everyone said in the drawing room? Greta and Thomas and Sir Peter?”
“I suppose so.”
“Word for word.”
“Not word for word. No.”
“What about what you say Greta said: ‘Give that to me. It’s mine.’ Have you talked about that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe,” repeated Miles musingly, and then he suddenly opened up at Matthew Barne with all guns blazing. “Not maybe, Matthew. Definitely. Greta never said that. Thomas Robinson has told you to give that evidence, and you’ve done so even though you know it’s untrue. You’re lying, Matthew. That’s what I’m putting to you. You’re lying to this jury.”
“No, I’m not. I swear I’m not,” stammered Matthew with tears in his eyes, but Miles Lambert had already sat down with a satisfied look on his red face.
Chapter 19
Police Constable Hughes arrived in court in full uniform other than his police cap, which he held in his hands while he gave evidence, periodically turning it over as if inspiration might be waiting for him under its brim.
John Sparling had very little to ask, and it was soon his opponent’s turn. Miles Lambert tried to set the Carmouth policeman at ease with an anodyne first question: “Am I right in saying that you were the first officer to arrive at the House of the Four Winds on July fifth?”
“Yes, sir. There was an emergency call from the occupant, Thomas Robinson. Police Constable Jones and I attended in response. We were the nearest mobile unit at the time.”
“Do you have a note of the time of the emergency call?”
“Yes. It’s down on the computer printout as being received at seven-oh-six P.M.”
“Thank you. Now, which of you was driving?”
“I was.”
“It was a marked police car?”
“Yes.”
“And did you have your siren turned on?”
“Yes, sir. We were responding to an emergency call.”
“I understand. Where did you park?”
“Initially outside the front gate, sir. It was locked and so I got out and pressed the buzzer on the wall. Thomas Robinson answered and I identified myself as a police officer. He then buzzed the gate open. It works by remote control.”
“What did Thomas say when he answered?”
“He just asked who I was. That’s all, sir. Then he opened the gates.”
“Without saying anything else?”
“That’s right.”
“Now, Officer, could you see the front door of the house when you were outside the gate?”
“No, sir. I was able to see it once I drove in and parked the car but not before.”
“Was the front door of the house open or closed when you first saw it?”
“It was open. Thomas Robinson was at the top of the steps about four or five yards from the door when I first saw him. There are six quite distinctive trees in front of the house, and he was standing between the first two of them. He seemed quite distressed, sir.”
“Was he crying?”
“No. He was agitated though.”
“What was said?”
“Officer Jones and I got out of our car, and I asked him what had happened.”
“How did Thomas respond to your question?”
“He told us that two men had entered the house through the front door and that he recognized one of them from the night of his mother’s murder. He said that he had seen them approach the house from the direction of a lane, which he pointed to. It was across a wide lawn on the north side of the house.”
“Yes, you will see that the lane and the house are shown on the plan that the usher is placing in front of you.”
“Yes, sir. Thomas said that the intruders had left by the front door moments before.”
“What did you do when you had obtained this information, Officer?”
“I left Officer Jones with Thomas and drove round into the lane. I went up as far as the door in the north wall of the grounds, but there was no sign of the intruders.”
“Did you try the door?”
“Yes. It was locked, sir.”
“Did you see any footprints?”
“No. It had not been raining, and I would not have expected to find any footprints at this time of year.”
“Did you see any other sign of intruders?”
“No, but I didn’t make any close examination of the area, sir. I left that for the crime-scene officer. Detective Constable Butler arrived about one hour after Officer Jones and myself.”
“I see. What did you do after you checked the door in the lane?”
“I returned to Officer Jones. He had gone back inside the house and Thomas Robinson was showing him an old black bench in the hall where he said he had hidden from the intruders.”
“You also located the key to the front door, did you not?”
“Yes, sir. Thomas showed it to me.”
“You asked him about it?”
“Yes. It was hanging on a nail in the hall. Thomas said that the intruders had opened the door using a key and that they had run out the same way when they heard our siren.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hughes. I’ve got nothing else.”
