The Judas Window

stab, except in so far as a drugged man inside could be used as a scapegoat. That set of circumstances is the one I hinted at a while ago: someone who stood outside that bolted door, and fired an arrow into Avory Hume's heart when the murderer was almost close enough to touch him with it.

'With your indulgence, then, I'm goin' to outline to you the way in which we believe the crime was really committed; and I'll try to show you how the facts that have been produced support it and bear against the prosecution's case.

'But, before I do, there's one thing I feel I must face. You can't disregard a beetle on the back of your neck or an unexplained statement in a court of law. Members of the jury, yesterday afternoon you heard the prisoner tell a great big thundering lie: the only lie he has told in this room: a lie that he was guilty. Mebbe he didn't say it under oath; mebbe you were inclined then to believe it all the more because he didn't. But you know now why it was told. Mebbe he didn't care then whether or not he convicted himself; others, you observe, have been tryin' hard enough to do it for him. But you'll judge whether you think the worse or the better of him for saying what he did. And the time has come now when I can stand up and accuse my own client of falsehood. For he said he stabbed Avory Hume with an arrow, whose feather broke off in the struggle. Unless you believe that statement, you cannot and you dare not return a verdict of guilty; and that statement you cannot and you dare not believe; and I will tell you why.

'Members of the jury, the way in which we believe this crime was really committed

4.32 p.m.-4.55 pjn.

From the Closing Speech for the Crown, by Sir Walter Storm

'... thus my learned friend need have no fear. I shall not ask you to wait until my lord addresses you before you learn this: If you are dissatisfied with the story of the prosecution, the prosecution have thereby failed to make out their case and it is your duty to return a verdict of not guilty. I do not think that any of you, having heard my opening speech in this case, could labour under any misapprehension as to that point. I put it before you, then, that the burden of the proof was on the prosecution, as I trust I shall always do when it becomes my duty to lay such a case before a jury.

'But it is likewise my duty to stress against the prisoner such of the material facts as constitute evidence. Facts: as I said in my opening speech. Facts: as I have said all along. Therefore I must ask you, dispassionately: how many of the material facts in this case have been altered or disproved?

'My learned friend has attempted well and eloquently to explain; but I must submit to you that he cannot explain away.

'What remains? It is a fact that the prisoner was found with a loaded pistol in his pocket. He denies that he took this pistol to the house; and what is there to corroborate his denial? There is the testimony of the witness Grabell. You have heard that witness in the box: you have heard his replies to my questions: you have observed his demeanour. He, and he alone, claims to have seen the deceased at D'Orsay Chambers on Friday morning. How did a stranger in those flats escape the attention of every other attendant? How is the deceased presumed to have gained access to the prisoner's flat? How, in fact, did Grabell come conveniently to be cleaning out a dustbin in darkness, when he himself acknowledges that the dustbin would have been cleaned out a fortnight before? Grabell - whose notion of honour and truthfulness you have been able to judge - is the sole witness to this. Is there any other witness who can give even second-hand corroboration to the alleged theft of the pistol by Avory Hume? There is Reginald Answell. But here I confess I am on difficult ground. Members of the jury, I must tell you frankly that, when he told you that story from which you were supposed to infer the prisoner's guilt, I did not believe him. He was (in fact) a witness for the prosecution; and I did not believe him. You will have been able to decide whether or not my learned friend disposed of his testimony in a court where - whether for the prosecution or for the defence - we will not avail ourselves of lies. But it is Reginald Answell, this same witness, who testifies to his conversation with Grabell about the pistol. If we believe that a man has borne false witness in the last part of his testimony, shall we therefore believe that he has borne true witness in the first part of it?’

'If the prisoner did in fact take that pistol to Mr Hume's house, there is premeditation. And I suggest to you that he did.’

'What other facts remain? There are the prisoner's finger-prints on the arrow. Such things are stubborn. They are marks. They remain. They show beyond doubt that the prisoner's hand was round the arrow - whether or not, as my learned friend has suggested, the finger-prints were placed on the arrow by others while the prisoner was unconscious.

'And what is the evidence as to this alleged unconsciousness, this alleged drugging, on which all deductions from the finger-prints must rest? If you refuse to believe that the prisoner was drugged, then, obviously, I must submit to you that the finger-prints are the most vital evidence in the case. The evidence, then? A decanter similar to the first, filled with drugged whisky, is produced from a suitcase discovered in the Left-Luggage Department at Paddington Station, along with a syphon from which some soda-water is drawn. Doubtless there are many decanters resembling it in London; but I put it before you that what I should like to see is some evidence that the accused had drunk any drugged whisky - or any whisky at all. On the contrary, you have heard from the divisional police surgeon that (in his opinion) the prisoner had taken no drug at all. In all fairness I must tell you that the witness who was to have testified to this as well, Dr Spencer Hume, is missing: and is inexplicably missing: but we cannot say that the two circumstances are connected until we have heard Dr Hume. That is what I mean by a fact.’

'You heard at the time the insinuations that were directed towards Dr Stocking. Despite this, I do not think that an opinion given by a man of Dr Stocking's long experience at St Praed's Hospital should be taken too lightly.

'And other facts? You have heard the witness Dyer's testimony of remarks made by the prisoner to the deceased. 'I did not come here to kill anyone unless it becomes absolutely necessary'; which now appears with the emendation by the prisoner: 'I did not come here to steal the spoons,' and is stressed by my learned friend. You will note that all of Dyer's other statements appear to be accepted by my learned friend, even with an accent of welcome, since much of his evidence depends on them. But he will not accept this one. What are we to believe from that? Is Dyer a witness who tells a truth at one o'clock and a falsehood at five minutes past one?

'You understand the fashion, members of the jury, in which I ask you to look at this case. Having made this clear, let me now go over the evidence point by point, line by line, from the beginning ...

which must bring us, as I have tried to do point by point, to the end of the evidence. Now, as to the suggestions put forward concerning the cross-bow and the

triple-feather - this counterblast of which the prosecution had no warning. That the prosecution had no warning was quite legal and ethical, of course; the defence is rightly reserved, though it is customary for the defence to be informed as to the lines on which the prosecution means to proceed. As to the cross-bow and the triple-feather (I say), it is neither my purpose nor my intention to pass comment now. You have heard the evidence for the Crown which it was my duty to lay before you. How the piece of feather - if indeed it is a piece of feather from the arrow before you - how this curious fragment got into the spindle-hole of the door, I do not know. How the other piece of feather - with the same implied reservation - got into the teeth of the cross-bow, I do not profess to know. I say: 'It is there'; and no more. If you believe that these and other matters weigh in the favour of the accused, it is your duty to let your verdict be influenced by them. You cannot convict this man unless you are perfectly clear beyond all reasonable doubt that the case we have outlined points with almost irresistible emphasis to the conclusion that he is guilty. Of course, the last word lies with my lord; and I have little doubt that he will tell you -'

4.55 p.m.-5.so p.m. From the Summing-up, by Mr Justice Rankin

'... and as you know, members of the jury, we have here a case of circumstantial evidence. Now the real test of the value of circumstantial evidence is this: does it exclude every reasonable possibility? I can even put it higher: does it exclude all other theories or possibilities? If you cannot put the evidence against the accused man beyond a probability and nothing more, then it is impossible for you to say you are satisfied beyond reasonable doubt that the charge is established. There is no muddledom about that; the law there is as plain as a pikestaff. A man cannot be convicted of any crime, least of all murder, merely on probabilities: unless they are so strong as to amount to a reasonable certainty. If you have other possibilities, you cannot come to the decision that the charge is made out. The question is not: who did this crime? The question is did the prisoner do it? You have heard at some length the evidence in this case, you have heard the speeches of counsel, and it is now my task to make some survey of the