Spencer Hume from St Praed's Hospital in Praed Street?'
'Yes, Mr Fleming took me by the shoulder and said to drive over there and get him quickly, because if he had an operation or anything they would not give him a message.'
'You are unable to tell us anything more of the subsequent events of that night?' 'No.'
'Is this because, on the way back from the hospital, you were taken ill with brain fever and were not able to leave your room for a month?'
'Yes.'
Counsel moved his hand over the white sheets of the brief. 'I ask you to consider carefully, Miss Jordan. Is there anything further you can tell us, anything at all, that you heard the accused say? Did he say anything when he sat down in the chair, and lighted his cigarette?'
'Yes, he answered something: a question or a statement, I think.'
'What was the question?'
'Someone said: 'Are you made of stone?''
''Are you made of stone.' And he answered?'
'He said: 'Serve him right for doctoring my whisky.''
For a brief space of time counsel remained looking at her. Then he sat down.
Sir Henry Merrivaie rose to cross-examine for the defence.
JUST what line the defence would take nobody could tell: there was a frail ghost in insanity or even manslaughter: but, knowing H.M., I could not believe he would try anything so half-hearted as that. It was possible that his first cross-examination might give some indication.
He rose majestically - an effect which was somewhat marred by the fact that his gown caught on something, probably himself. It tore with a ripping noise so exactly like a raspberry that for one terrible second I thought he had given one. He squared himself. However rusty his legal talents had become, it was in cross-examination, where leading questions are permitted and almost anything within reason may be brought up, that his usual rough-and- tumble tactics would be most deadly. But that was the trouble. This woman had won the sympathy of everyone, including the jury: to pitch into her would have been unwise. We need not have been uneasy. After one malevolent glance over his shoulder at the torn gown, showing the glasses pulled down on his broad nose, he addressed her as gently as Huntley Lawton - if a trifle more abruptly. His big voice put the witness and the court at ease. It was in a tone of sit-down-and-have-a-drink-and-let's-ta lk-th is-th i ng-over.
'Ma'am,' said H.M. off-handedly, 'do you believe Mr Hume heard something bad against the accused that made him change his mind all of a sudden?'
Silence.
'I don't know.'
'Still, though,' argued H.M., 'since my learned friend has sort of eased the question in, let's deal with it. As he said,
'I should certainly have thought so.'
'Yes. And, conversely, if he hadn't heard anything, he wouldn't have changed his mind?'
'I suppose not. No, certainly not.'
'Now, ma'am,' pursued H.M. in the same argumentative way, 'he seemed to be in the best of spirits on Friday evening, when he arranged for you and Dr Hume to go to Sussex next day? Hey?'
'Oh, yes.'
'Did he go out of the house that night?' 'No.'
'Receive any visitors?' 'No.'
'Did he get any letters, phone calls, messages of any kind?'
'No. Oh, except Mary's telephone-call in the evening. I answered the phone and talked to her for a minute or two; and then he came to the phone; but I don't know what he said.'
'And at breakfast next mornin', how many letters did he get?'
'Just that one, with Mary's writing.'
'Uh-huh. Consequently, if he heard anything against the accused, he might have heard it from his own daughter?'
There was a slight stir. Sir Walter Storm made as if to rise; but instead fell to conferring with Huntley Lawton.
'Well, I - I don't know. How can I?'
'Still, it definitely was after readin' that letter that he seemed to show his first tearin' antagonism towards the accused, wasn't it?'
‘Yes.'
'The whole thing seemed to start then and there?'
'From what I saw of it, I thought so.'
'Yes. Now, ma'am, suppose I told you that in that letter there wasn't one word about the accused except the fact that he was comin' to town?'
The witness touched her glasses. ‘I don't know what I am supposed to answer.'
'Because I do tell you that, ma'am. We've got that letter right here, and at the proper time we're goin' to produce it. So if I tell you there's nothin' in it about the accused except the bare fact that he meant to come to town, does it alter your view of Mr Hume's conduct?'
Without waiting for a reply H.M. sat down.
He left a much-puzzled court. He had not upset, or tried to upset, one thing in the witness's story; but he left a feeling that there was something in the wind. I expected Mr Lawton to re-examine; but it was Sir Walter Storm who rose.
'Call Herbert William Dyer.'
Miss Jordan left the box, and Dyer stepped gravely into it. It was evident from the first that he would make a good and convincing witness, as he did. Dyer was a quiet man in the late fifties, his head covered with close-cut greyish hair, his manner attentive. As though making concessions both to private life and to his employment, he wore a short black coat and striped trousers: instead of a wing collar, he had an ordinary stiff one with a dark tie. The man oozed respectability, without doing so offensively. As he passed between the jury-box and the solicitors' table, I noticed that he made a grave sign of recognition which was neither a bow nor a nod to a light-haired young man who was sitting at the table. Dyer took the oath in a quite audible voice. He stood with his chin a little tilted up, his hands hanging down easily at his sides.
Sir Walter Storm's heavy voice contrasted with the sharp and pushing tones of Huntley Lawton.
'Your name is Herbert William Dyer, and you were for five and a half years in the service of Mr Hume?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Before that I understand that you were for eleven years in the employ of the late Lord Senlac, and at his death you were left a legacy for faithful service?'
'That is so, sir.'
'During the war you served with the 14th Middlesex Rifles, and were awarded the D.C.M. in 1917?' 'Yes, sir.'
First of all he corroborated Miss Jordan's story about the telephone-call to the accused. There was, he explained, a telephone extension under the stairs at the rear of the hallway. He had been instructed to ring up the Pyrenees Garage to enquire about some repairs that were being done to Mr Hume's car, and to make sure the car would be ready for use that evening. At about one-thirty he went to the telephone, and heard the deceased speaking on the other wire. The deceased had asked for Regent 0055, had asked to speak to the prisoner, and a voice which Dyer could identify as the prisoner's replied: 'This is he speaking.' Making sure that the connection was established, Dyer had then replaced the receiver and gone down in the direction of the drawing-room. Passing the door, he had heard the rest of the conversation described by the first witness. He had also overheard the unfortunate soliloquy.
'When did Mr Hume next refer to this subject?'
'Almost as soon as he had finished telephoning. I went into the drawing-room, and he said: 'I am expecting a
