The Judas Window

The witness did not chew gum; but the continual restless movement of his jaws, the occasional sharp clicking sound he made with his tongue to emphasize a point, gave the impression that he was occupied with an exhaustless wad of it. He had a narrow, suspicious face, which alternately expressed good nature and defiance; a very thin neck; and hair which seemed to be the colour and consistency of liquorice. When he wished to be particularly emphatic, he would jerk his head sideways in speaking, as though he were doing a trick with the invisible chewing-gum; and turn his eye sternly on the questioner. Also, his tendency to address everyone except H.M. as 'your lordship' may have been veiled awe - or it may have been a sign of the budding Communist tendencies indicated by the curl of his lip and the hammer-and-sickle design in his militant tie.

H.M. plunged in.

'Your full name's Horace Carlyle Grabell, and you live at 85 Benjamin Street, Putney?'

'That's right,' agreed the witness with cheerful defensiveness, as though he were daring anyone to doubt this.

'Did you use to work in the block of service-flats in Duke Street, D'Orsay Chambers, where the accused lives?'

'That's right.'

'What was your job there?'

'I was an Extra Cleaner-Up.'

'What's an Extra Cleaner-Up, exactly?'

'It's like this. It's the mess they makes, that the chambermaids don't like. When their ash-trays gets full, they empties 'em into the waste-paper baskets. They sticks their old razor-blades anywhere they can, to get 'em out of sight. They leaves things about - well, you know what I mean. Extra Cleaner-Up, especially when there was parties.'

'Were you working there round about the 3rd of January last?'

'On that date,' corrected Horace Carlyle Grabell, with a pounce. 'On that date, I was.'

'Yes. Did you know the deceased, Mr Hume?'

'I hadn't the honour of his personal acquaintance -'

'Just confine yourself to answering the question,' said the judge sharply.

'Very good, your Lordship,' said the witness smoothly, and his jaw extended at the same time his upper lip drew away from his teeth. 'I was about to say: except once when we got very matey, and he gave me ten pounds to keep my mouth shut about his being a thief.'

Several times before a recorder would have had the opportunity of writing the word 'sensation'. This one, which could hardly be called a full-fledged sensation, since nobody knew what it meant, was all the more pronounced because of the casual way in which Grabell spoke. The judge slowly took off his spectacles, disengaging them from under his tie-wig, folded them up, and contemplated him.

'You quite understand what you are saying?' enquired Mr Justice Rankin.

'Oh, very good, your Lordship.'

'I wished to make sure of that. Proceed, Sir Henry.'

'We'll try to make certain of it, my lord,' growled H.M. 'Now then. How'd you come to know the deceased so well by sight?'

'I used to work at another place - not far away. Every week, Saturday mornings, they used to take the week's takings up to the Capital Counties Bank in a leather bag. I went along; kind of a bodyguard, you see; not that it was ever needed. The deceased, he didn't actually do nothing; I mean, he didn't take the money across the counter or nothing. He would just come out of that little door at the back of the bank, and stand with his hands behind his back, and nod to Mr Perkins who brought the money, like as if he was giving his blessing to it.'

'How many times d'ye think you saw him there?'

'Oh, umpteen.'

'A dozen, do you think?'

'More'n that,' insisted the witness, shaking his head sceptically and drawing the air through a hollow tooth. 'Every Saturday for six months or so.'

'Now, where were you on the morning of Friday, January 3rd, last?'

'Cleaning out the dustbin in 3c’ answered Grabell promptly. 'That's Mr Answell's flat.' He made a sign of quick and saturnine friendliness towards the prisoner, pushing his fist under his own chin as though to keep it up; and instantly checked this with an air of portentous solemnity.

'Where's the dustbin?'

'In the kitchenette.'

'This kitchenette opens into the dining-room?'

'Same as usual,' agreed Grabell.

*Was the door closed between?'

'Yes. Or very near. Just a crack.'

'What'd you see or hear then?'

'Well, I wasn't making much noise. While I was standing in the kitchenette, I heard the door of the dining- room open - that's the other door to the dining-room, leading to the little entry. I thought: ''Ullo!' Because Mr Answell wasn't expected back. I peeped through and see a man coming into the dining-room, walking very soft and quick. You could tell he was up to no good. The blinds was all drawn in the dining-room, too. First he gave a tap on all the walls, like as if he was looking for a safe. Then he started to open the drawers in the sideboard. What he took out I didn't know first going-off, because his back was to me. Then he went over and raised the blind to get a better look. I saw who he was, and I saw what he'd got in his hand.'

'Who was it?'

'This deceased, Mr Hume.'

'And what had he got in his hand?' asked H.M. in a louder voice.

'Captain Answell's gun, that you've got down on the table there.'

'Hand it up to the witness. Take a closer look, and make sure it's the one the deceased took out of that sideboard on Friday morning.'

'That's the one,' said the witness, reeling off the serial number of the pistol before it was put into his hand. He pulled out the clip and snapped it back again, turning round the automatic in a way that made the nearest woman juryman shy back. 'Why, I had to unload it meself once, when they was getting gay at a party.'

'Tell us what happened after you saw Mr Hume?'

'Couldn't believe my own eyes, that's what. He got out a little notebook, and compared something in it, careful as careful; then he stowed away the gun in his pocket. Well, that was too much. I walked out quick and said: 'Hullo.' I'd got no call to be respectful to a chap who was there to steal. It gave him a turn, though he tried not to show it. He turned round with his hands behind his back and his eyebrows pulled down - trying to look like Napoleon, I dare say. He said: 'Do you know who I am?' I said: 'Yes; and I also know you've just pinched Captain Answell's gun.' He said not to be ridiculous; he said it was a joke. I know that tone some of the nobs takes when they've done the dirty and try to carry it off, I know it; and that's why I knew he knew it. Why, there was that time Lord Borefastleigh got caught flat with the ace, king and jack of trumps in his waistcoat pocket -'

'You will omit that,' said the judge.

'Very good, your Lordship. I said: 'Joke or not, you're going down to the manager and explain why you've just pinched Captain Answell's gun.' Then he got much quieter. He said: 'All right; but do you know which side your bread is buttered on?' I said: 'I don't know about that, guv'nor; considering as I've never seen any butter in me life.' He said, in a way I'll bet he didn't talk at the bank: 'There's a quid in it for you if you keep your mouth shut about this.' I thought I'd just see what he was up to, and I said: 'I know what that is, guv'nor; that's margerine; and I've had plenty of that on me bread.' He said: 'Very well; ten pounds, and that's my limit.' So he went away with the gun.'

'Did you take the ten pounds?' enquired the judge.

'Yes, your Lordship, I did,' answered Grabell, with defiant querulousness. 'What would you have done?'

'It is not a matter on which I dare pass judgment,' said Mr Justice Rankin. 'Go on, Sir Henry.'

'He went away with the gun.' H.M. wagged his head. 'And what did you do after that?'

‘I knew he was up to no good, so I thought I'd better warn Captain Answell about it.' -