The Coroner: “What explanation can you suggest for Cathcart’s behavior?”
Duke of D.: “None. I was simply staggered. But I think he must somehow have got wind of the letter, and knew the game was up.”
The Coroner: “Did you mention the matter to anybody else?”
Duke of D.: “No. It wasn’t pleasant, and I thought I’d better leave it till the morning.”
The Coroner: “So you did nothing further in the matter?”
Duke of D.: “No. I didn’t want to go out huntin’ for the fellow. I was too angry. Besides, I thought he’d change his mind before long—it was a brute of a night and he’d only a dinner-jacket.”
The Coroner: “Then you just went quietly to bed and never saw deceased again?”
Duke of D.: “Not till I fell over him outside the conservatory at three in the morning.”
The Coroner: “Ah yes. Now can you tell us how you came to be out of doors at that time?”
Duke of D. (hesitating): “I didn’t sleep well. I went out for a stroll.”
The Coroner: “At three o’clock in the morning?”
Duke of D.: “Yes.” With sudden inspiration: “You see, my wife’s away.” (Laughter and some remarks from the back of the room.)
The Coroner: “Silence, please … You mean to say that you got up at that hour of an October night to take a walk in the garden in the pouring rain?”
Duke of D.: “Yes, just a stroll.” (Laughter.)
The Coroner: “At what time did you leave your bedroom?”
Duke of D.: “Oh—oh, about half-past two, I should think.”
The Coroner: “Which way did you go out?”
Duke of D.: “By the conservatory door.”
The Coroner: “The body was not there when you went out?”
Duke of D.: “Oh, no!”
The Coroner: “Or you would have seen it?”
Duke of D.: “Lord, yes! I’d have had to walk over it.”
The Coroner: “Exactly where did you go?”
Duke of D. (vaguely): “Oh, just round about.”
The Coroner: “You heard no shot?”
Duke of D.: “No.”
The Coroner: “Did you go far away from the conservatory door and the shrubbery?”
Duke of D.: “Well—I was some way away. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t hear anything. It must have been.”
The Coroner: “Were you as much as a quarter of a mile away?”
Duke of D.: “I should think I was—oh, yes, quite!”
The Coroner: “More than a quarter of a mile away?”
Duke of D.: “Possibly. I walked about briskly because it was cold.”
The Coroner: “In which direction?”
Duke of D. (with visible hesitation): “Round at the back of the house. Towards the bowling-green.”
The Coroner: “The bowling-green?”
Duke of D. (more confidently): “Yes.”
The Coroner: “But if you were more than a quarter of a mile away, you must have left the grounds?”
Duke of D.: “I—oh, yes—I think I did. Yes, I walked about on the moor a bit, you know.”
The Coroner: “Can you show us the letter you had from Mr. Freeborn?”
Duke of D.: “Oh, certainly—if I can find it. I thought I put it in my pocket, but I couldn’t find it for that Scotland Yard fellow.”
The Coroner: “Can you have accidentally destroyed it?”
Duke of D.: “No—I’m sure I remember putting it—Oh”—here the witness paused in very patent confusion, and grew red—“I remember now. I destroyed it.”
The Coroner: “That is unfortunate. How was that?”
Duke of D.: “I had forgotten; it has come back to me now. I’m afraid it has gone for good.”
The Coroner: “Perhaps you kept the envelope?”
Witness shook his head.
The Coroner: “Then you can show the jury no proof of having received it?”
Duke of D.: “Not unless Fleming remembers it.”
The Coroner: “Ah, yes! No doubt we can check it that way. Thank you, your grace. Call Lady Mary Wimsey.”
The noble lady, who was, until the tragic morning of October 14th, the fiancée of the deceased, aroused a murmur of sympathy on her appearance. Fair and slender, her naturally rose-pink cheeks ashy pale, she seemed overwhelmed with grief. She was dressed entirely in black, and gave her evidence in a very low tone which was at times almost inaudible.2
After expressing his sympathy, the coroner asked, “How long had you been engaged to the deceased?”
Witness: “About eight months.”
The Coroner: “Where did you first meet him?”
Witness: “At my sister-in-law’s house in London.”
The Coroner: “When was that?”
Witness: “I think it was June last year.”
The Coroner: “You were quite happy in your engagement?”
Witness: “Quite.”
The Coroner: “You naturally saw a good deal of Captain Cathcart. Did he tell you much about his previous life?”
Witness: “Not very much. We were not given to mutual confidences. We usually discussed subjects of common interest.”
The Coroner: “You had many such subjects?”
Witness: “Oh, yes.”
The Coroner: “You never gathered at any time that Captain Cathcart had anything on his mind?”
Witness: “Not particularly. He had seemed a little anxious the last few days.”
The Coroner: “Did he speak of his life in Paris?”
Witness: “He spoke of theaters and amusements there. He knew Paris very well. I was staying in Paris with some friends last February, when he was there, and he took us about. That was shortly after our engagement.”
The Coroner: “Did he ever speak of playing cards in Paris?”
Witness: “I don’t remember.”
The Coroner: “With regard to your marriage—had any money settlements been gone into?”
Witness: “I don’t think so. The date of the marriage was not in any way fixed.”
The Coroner: “He always appeared to have plenty of money?”
Witness: “I suppose so; I didn’t think about it.”
The Coroner: “You never heard him complain of being hard up?”
Witness: “Everybody complains of that, don’t they?”
The Coroner: “Was he a man of cheerful disposition?”
Witness: “He was very moody, never the same two days together.”
The Coroner: “You have heard what your brother says about the deceased wishing to break off the engagement. Had you any idea of this?”
Witness: “Not
