The Judas Window

'Exactly. Yet he still kept ringin' up your flat incessantly from as early as nine in the morning - when you hadn't started from Frawnend?'

'Yes.'

'When you talked to him over the phone at one-thirty on Saturday afternoon, had you ever heard his voice before, or seen him?'

'No.'

'I want to hear about the beginnin' of that conversation on the telephone. Just tell us how it began.'

'The phone rang,' replied Answell in a calm voice. ‘I picked up the receiver (he illustrated). I was sitting on the couch, and I reached over after it while I was looking at a newspaper. Mr Hume spoke. At that time I thought he said: 'I want to speak to Caplon Answell.' So I said: 'Speaking.'' H.M. leaned forward.

'Oh? You thought he said: 'I want to speak to Caplon Answell.' But later, when you looked back on it, did you realize he said something different?'

'Yes, I did. I knew it must be.'

'What did he really say, then?'

'Something different.'

'Did he really say this? Did he really say 'I want to speak to CAPTAIN Answell'?' 'Yes.'

H.M. dropped his brief on the desk. He folded his arms, and spoke with a ferocious gentleness.

'In short,' said H.M., 'during that whole conversation, and afterwards at his own house, he thought he was talkin' to your cousin, Captain Reginald Answell: didn't he?'

XI

'In Camera'

FOR perhaps ten seconds there was not so much as a whisper or a creak in the court-room. I imagined I could hear people breathe. The implication penetrated slowly; we had seen it suddenly appear and come closer; but it had to be adjusted to the case, and I wondered whether the judge would allow it. The prisoner, whose tired face now wore a sardonic look, seemed challenging Reginald Answell to meet his eye. Reginald did not. His back was to the witness-box as he sat at the solicitors' table; he had his hand on the water-bottle, and he scarcely appeared to have heard. His saturnine face, with hair the same colour as the prisoner's, showed only a rather bored astonishment.

'Yes, I mean that man there,' insisted H.M., drawing attention to him.

Captain Reginald shook his head and smiled contemptuously. Sir Walter Storm rose in full panoply.

'My lord,' he snapped, 'may I suggest that the prisoner is hardly an authority on what Mr Hume may or may not have been thinking?'

The judge considered, rubbing his temples lightly with his small hands.

'The point is well taken, Sir Walter. At the same time, if Sir Henry has any evidence to put forward in this matter, I think we may allow him some latitude.' He looked at H.M. with sharpness.

'Yes, my lord, we got the evidence.'

'Then continue; but remember that the prisoner's suspicions are not evidence.'

Although the Attorney-General sat down without attack it was clear that he had declared war. H.M. turned again to Answell.

'About this telephone-call which we're trying to explain: your cousin had come up to London the night before, hadn't he?'

'Yes, from the same place I was staying.'

'And, when he was in London, he always stayed at your flat? I think we've heard that testified here?'

'That is true.'

'So, if the deceased wanted to get in touch with him, it's natural that he should have rung up your flat as early as nine on Saturday morning?'

'Yes.'

'When you went to Grosvenor Street on Saturday evenin', was your first name mentioned at any time?'

'No. I said to the butler: 'My name is Answell'; and, when he announced me, he said: 'The gentleman to see you, sir.''

'So, when the deceased said: 'My dear Answell, I'll settle your hash, damn you,' you believe he was not speaking about you at all?'

‘I am sure he was not.'

H.M. shuffled with some papers in order to allow this to sink in. Then, beginning with the drinking of the whisky, he went through the story. We knew that part of it to be true; but still, was he guilty? The man was not the world's best witness; but there was an air of fierce conviction about everything he said. He conveyed a little of that trapped feeling which must have possessed him if he were innocent. It was a long examination, and Answell would have made a good impression if only - last evening - he had not announced his own guilt from the dock. It hung over every word he said now, even if nobody referred to it. He was a self-confessed murderer before he started. It was as though there were two of him, merging each into the other like figures on a double-exposed photographic plate.

'Finally,' growled H.M., 'let's take the reasons for various things. When did you first begin to believe that a mistake had been made, and that all that evening the deceased had been mistakin' you for your cousin?'

'I don't know.' Pause. 'I thought of it that same night, later, but I could not believe it.' Pause. 'Then I thought about it again. Afterwards.'

'Was there a reason why you didn't want to say anything about it, even then?'

'I -' Hesitation.

'Just tell me: did you have a reason?' (Watch your step, H.M.; for God's sake watch your step!)

' 'You have heard the question,' said the judge. 'Answer it.’

'My lord, I suppose I did.'

Mr Justice Rankin frowned. 'You either had a reason, or you had not?' 'I had a reason.'

It was possible that H.M. was beginning to sweat. 'Just tell me this: Do you know why the deceased might have wanted to make an appointment with your cousin and not you?'

Between counsel and prisoner there seemed to be a scales; and now the scale-pan dipped. The young blockhead squared his shoulders and drew a deep breath. Putting his hands on the rail, he looked with a clear eye round the court.

'No, I don't know,' he replied clearly.

Silence.

'You don't know? But there was a reason, wasn't there, why this mistake might have occurred?' Silence.

'There was a reason, wasn't there, why the deceased may have disliked Captain Answell, and wished to 'settle his hash'?'

Silence.

'Was it because -?'

'No, Sir Henry,' interposed the judge into that tightening strain, 'we cannot let you lead the witness any further.'

H.M. bowed, and leaned his weight on his fists. He clearly saw that it was useless to go on with this. All sorts of speculations must have been buzzing soundlessly in the court, behind those impassive faces banked up round us. The first thing which occurred to me was that it almost certainly concerned Mary Hume. Suppose, for instance, that there had been an affair of striking proportions between Mary Hume and the penniless Captain Answell? And suppose that the practical Avory Hume meant to cut it through to the core before it spoiled a good marriage? It fitted every circumstance; and yet would the prisoner have put his neck in a rope rather than acknowledge it? This was incredible. Let us face it sensibly: it does not happen nowadays. It is carrying chivalry too far. There must be some other reason which concerned Mary Hume-but what it was none of us, I think, then guessed. When we did learn, we understood.

Presently H.M. relinquished his witness, and the formidable Sir Walter Storm rose to cross-examine. For a moment he did not speak. Then in a tone of calm and detached contempt, he threw out one question.

'Have you made up your mind whether or not you are guilty?'

There are certain tones you must not take with any., man, even when he is helpless. What nothing else could do, this did. Answell pulled up his head. Across the well of the court he looked the Attorney-General in the