The Judas Window

'So you examined him 'in a cursory way', did you?'

H.M.'s voice made even the judge look up.

'Do you examine all your patients 'in a cursory way'?'

'That is neither here nor there.'

'It is if they die, ain't it? Do you think a man's life should depend on an examination 'in a cursory way'?'

'No.'

'Or that sworn testimony in a court of law should depend on it?'

Dr Stocking's mouth grew tighter. 'It was my duty to examine the body; not to take a blood-test of the prisoner. Dr Spencer Hume, I consider, is an authority sufficiently well known for me to accept his considered opinion.'

'I see. So you can't give first-hand evidence yourself? It's all based on what Dr Hume thought - Dr Hume, by the way, not bein' here now?'

'My lord, I must protest against that implication,' cried Sir Walter Storm.

'You will please confine yourself to what the witness says, Sir Henry.'

'Begludship's pardon,' growled H.M. 'I understood that the witness was confinin' himself pretty closely to what Dr Hume said ... Will you swear from your own knowledge that he had not taken a drug?'

'No,' snapped the witness, 'I am not going to swear; I am going to give an opinion; and I swear that the opinion I give shall be an honest one.'

The judge's soft, even Voice intervened. 'I still do not understand. You think it impossible that the prisoner should have taken a drug? That is the matter before us.'

'No, my lord, I 'do not say it is impossible; that would be going too far.'

'Why would it be going too far?'

'My lord, the prisoner told me that he took this drug, whatever it was, at about fifteen minutes past six. I did not examine him until nearly eight o'clock. If by any chance he had taken one, the effect would be largely worn off. However, Dr Hume examined him before seven o'clock -'

'Dr Hume's opinion has not been presented to us,' said Mr Justice Rankin. 'I should like to be quite clear about this, since the matter is vital. If the effect of this mysterious drug would have worn off in any case, I take it that you are hardly in a position to say a great deal about it?

'My lord, I have said that I can only give an opinion.'

'Very well. Proceed, Sir Henry.'

H.M., clearly well pleased, went on to other matters.

'Dr Stocking, there's another side of this business that you've called unlikely to the edge of impossible: I mean any suggestion that the arrow might 'a' been projected. Let's take this question of the position of the body. Do you accept the accused's statement that, at the beginnin', the body was lyin' on its left side facing the side of the desk?'

The doctor smiled grimly. ‘I believe it is the accused's statements that we are here to examine; not to accept.'

'Not under any circumstances, it'd seem. But could you bring yourself to agree with that particular one?'

‘I might.'

Ts there anything you know of to contradict it?'

'No, I cannot say that there is.'

'For the sake of argument, then. Suppose the deceased had been standing on that side of the desk - which would be (look at your plan, there) facin' the sideboard across the room. Suppose he had been bendin' over to look at something on the desk. If while he had been bent forward, the arrow had been discharged at him from the direction of the sideboard: might it have gone into the body just the way it did?'

'It is remotely possible.'

'Thanks; nothing else.'

H.M. plumped down. The Attorney-General was curt in his re-examination.

'Had matters taken place in any such fashion as my learned friend suggests,' observed Sir Walter Storm, 'would there have been any signs of a struggle?'

T should not have expected to find any.'

'You would not have expected to find the rumpled collar and tie, the disarranged coat, the grimy hands, the cut on the palm of the right hand?'

'No.'

'Can we believe that the cut on the palm of the hand was caused by any attempt to seize in the air at an arrow fired at the deceased?'

'Personally, I should call it ridiculous.'

'Do you consider it likely that a murderer, equipped with a large cross-bow, was lurking in the sideboard itself?'

‘No.'

'Finally, doctor, with regard to your qualifications to pronounce on whether or not a drug had been swallowed by the prisoner: you were for twenty years on the staff of St Praed's Hospital, Praed Street?'

'I was.'

The doctor was allowed to stand down, and the Crown then called its most damning witness - Harry Ernest Mottram.

Inspector Mottram had been sitting at the solicitors' table. I had noticed him a number of times without knowing who he was. Inspector Mottram was slow-footed, surefooted, careful of both manner and speech. He was comparatively young, not more than forty; but his smooth style of replying to questions, never in a hurry to get out an answer too quickly, indicated some experience of court. His manner, as he stood at attention, seemed to say: 'I don't particularly like putting a rope around anyone's neck; but let's not have any nonsense; murder is always murder, and the quicker we dispatch a criminal the better it will be for society.' He had a square face and a short nose, a face running to jaw, and the expression of his eyes indicated either that they were very sharply penetrating or that he needed glasses. The air of a well-brushed family man, defending society, invaded the court. He took the oath in a strong voice, and fixed his penetrating or near-sighted eyes on counsel.

'I am a Divisional Detective-Inspector of the Metropolitan Police. In consequence of what I was told, I proceeded to 12 Grosvenor Street and arrived there at six-fifty-five p.m. on January 4th.'

'What happened?'

'I was conducted to the room called the study, where I found the accused in company with Mr Fleming, the butler, and Police-Constable Hardcastle. I questioned the last three, who told me what they have already testified to here. I then asked the accused if he had anything to say. He replied: 'If you will get these harpies out of the room, I will try to tell you what happened.' I asked the others to leave the room. Then I shut the door and sat down opposite the accused.'

The statement made by the prisoner, as the inspector quoted it, was much the same as that which had been read by the Attorney-General in his opening speech. As Mottram repeated it in dispassionate tones, it sounded even balder and thinner. When it came to the part about the drugging of the whisky, Sir Walter intervened.

'The prisoner told you that the deceased had given him a glass of whisky-and-soda; that he had drunk over half of it, and then put the glass down on the floor?'

'Yes, by his chair.'

'I think, Inspector Mottram, that you are a teetotaller?' 'Yes.'

'And,' said counsel very gently, 'was there any smell of whisky on the prisoner's breath?' 'None whatever.'

The thing was so simple, so obvious, that I believe the Crown had been reserving it for a bombshell. It certainly had that effect, for it was a practical and everyday point which came home to the jury.

'Go on, Inspector.'

'When he had finished making this statement, I said to him: 'You realize that what you tell me cannot possibly be true?' He replied: 'It is a frame-up, Inspector; I swear to God it is a frame-up; but I cannot see how they can all be crooked, or why they should have it in for me, anyway.' '

'What did you understand him to mean by this?'