An Appetite for Murder (13 page)

The storeroom where bound copies were kept of earlier editions was a quiet place of deep shadow, the huge leather-bound volumes on their shelves insulating the student of the past from the bustle and chatter of the main office. Frances was left to her own devices, a chair and a table being left free for her use, and there was a tall, sloping wooden stand on which she could place the heavy book she needed to examine. Even stored in semi-darkness and kept closed, the pages of newspapers more than fourteen years old were already starting to dry with age, and smelled not like fresh newsprint but old paper. Frances took great care when turning the pages, wondering how much longer they could exist before they crumbled away and all their information was lost forever. Thousands of copies were made every day and on the morrow used to light fires, but these relics were valuable histories, and held, she felt sure, precious clues to events that many a criminal might have hoped had been forgotten. Perhaps buried amongst the pages was evidence – a line here, a paragraph there – that would, if she could find it, tell her what Mrs Sweetman had been doing in the years between her husband’s arrest and her death. If only, thought Frances, she could hire an army of readers willing to scour tirelessly, minutely and accurately fourteen years of weekly newspapers, she might have the answer. But even if she could, where would such an army sit? There was only one chair in the room.

The trial of Hubert Sweetman on charges of burglary and attempted murder had taken place in October 1866 at the Old Bailey. Due to the extensive local interest in the case, it had been reported in great detail, even
The Times
could not have carried a better account, since the bare facts revealed by the hearing, which were available to every newsman, had been supplemented in the
Chronicle
by interviews with Bayswater residents. The general flavour of opinion was sympathy for the victim, Mr Arthur Gibson, a blameless and hardworking clerk, and the director, old Mr Finn, a gentleman in the very best sense of the word who commanded universal respect in the neighbourhood, and shock at the terrible disloyalty of Mr Sweetman. The public, Frances observed, could be fickle and often made a hero into a villain in a great wash of emotion that sometimes defied the facts. Once made into a villain, it was, however, far harder to reverse the process.

The chief witness for the defence was Mr Finn senior, who testified as to the good character of the accused; however, he was obliged to admit under questioning that he, Sweetman and Whibley were the only holders of a key to the safe, and that he and Whibley had been dining at his club a mile from the office that night. His own keys, he told the court, pressing his hand flat to his breast in a gesture that inspired trust, never left his person and it was impossible for anyone to have stolen or copied them. He was aware that Mr Sweetman had been very anxious about the expense of the care of his sister, who was gravely ill, and the education of his nephew, a promising boy who was hoping to qualify in dentistry. Mr Sweetman, he revealed, had recently asked for an increase in salary, a request he had agreed to consider, though without the promise of any immediate result. On the morning after he had dined with Mr Whibley, he had arrived at the office to a scene so distressing he could hardly bear to think about it much less describe it. Later, at the request of the police, he had examined the empty safe and provided a list of its former contents.

Mr Whibley had then given evidence to confirm that he had dined with Mr Finn on the night of the robbery. He too testified warmly to the excellent character of the accused man. Like Mr Finn, he kept his office and safe keys always upon his person and they had never been missing for an instant. The gentlemen had arrived at the club together at half past seven, started to dine in the well-attended restaurant at eight and departed at half past ten. Since neither Mr Finn nor Mr Whibley was under suspicion, no witnesses were brought to support their alibis but Frances assumed that the police had already satisfied themselves that there was no reason to doubt them. Whibley said that he had been first to arrive at the business premises the following morning. The front door had been unlocked, from which he had simply assumed that someone else, in all probability Mr Finn, had preceded him. As he closed the door, however, he noticed some deep gouges in the wood and scratches on the metal lock plate, which had at once aroused his suspicion. On entering the premises, he had been shocked to find Mr Gibson lying on the floor unconscious and bleeding from a wound to his head. He had dashed out into the street and found a messenger boy to send for the police and a doctor, after which he had done his best to tend the injured man until help arrived.

Mr Elliott also appeared for the defence, stating that he had the highest opinion of Hubert Sweetman’s character and believed him to be incapable of the crime with which he had been charged. The prosecution made a great deal of Elliott’s junior position in the company, and the fact that he had not known Sweetman for very long.

Mrs Curtis, Hubert Sweetman’s sister, had had to be carried in and specially accommodated in an invalid chair in the body of the court. During her testimony, she had wept a great deal, and since her voice was so quiet as to be on occasion inaudible, little could be determined of what she said. The general impression was that she felt sure her brother must have been in her company for the whole of the evening on which the robbery took place, but even the sympathetic questioning of the prosecution made it apparent that the frail woman could not be sure of the date. Mrs Sweetman, the
Chronicle’s
reporter took particular care to mention, was not in court, and it was nowhere suggested that she was unable to attend due to illness.

The first policeman on the scene of the robbery was, Frances noted with some interest, a Constable Sharrock of Paddington Green, who testified that by the time he arrived, a doctor was already tending Mr Gibson and most of the office staff were there. Mr Gibson was still unconscious, and a great quantity of blood had dripped from the wound to his head, much of which had been smeared and trampled through the office by multiple feet. If the robber had left any footprints in Mr Gibson’s blood, observed the constable rather pointedly, they had been obliterated and there was, therefore, nothing which the police might use as evidence. Even when some slight measure of consciousness returned to the stricken man before he was carried away, no one that morning heard Gibson utter any intelligible words. Constable Sharrock had also been present when a search was made of Mr Sweetman’s home, and he had found Mr Gibson’s pocket book hidden at the back of a drawer.

Dr Collin testified that he had been brought to the scene of the crime to see Mr Gibson. He had later visited his patient at home, and while the unfortunate man later regained full consciousness, he had retained no memory of the robbery. The doctor had no doubts that the wounds to Mr Gibson’s head, which were caused by impact with an item of furniture, were the result not of a fall, but a violent and potentially fatal assault.

Mr Gibson, who walked with the aid of a stick, the scars of his injuries clearly visible, was brought into court leaning on the arm of his brother Matthew, amidst audible expressions of sympathy. He remembered that he had intended to remain in the office until at least nine that night, and earlier that day he had told his fellow clerk, Mr Browne, of his decision. Unfortunately, he was still unable to recall the robbery and could provide the court with no clue as to the identity of his attacker. In the last weeks, however, his memory had cleared a little and he had recalled something new. He now felt sure that he had looked at his watch during the course of the evening and seen that it was half past eight. The watch kept excellent time. Importantly, he also recalled thinking at the time that the work he needed to do was well advanced, and was confident that he would be able to leave and lock up the office promptly at nine o’clock. After that his memory was a blank until he found himself at home in bed. The implication of his testimony was clear, the robbery had taken place between half past eight and nine.

Mr Browne’s testimony was of especial interest. Browne, who said he was feeling unwell and asked to be seated in the witness box, had left the office at seven on the night of the robbery. Sweetman, saying that he was going to see his sister, had left at half past six. Just before Browne went home, at which time only he and Gibson remained on the premises, Gibson had told him that he intended to work until late that night, as there were a number of urgent letters and telegrams to be sent. He would consequently be in at a later hour than usual the next morning, and asked Browne to inform Mr Finn of this change in his plans. It followed, and the prosecution made much of this, that out of all the staff of J. Finn Insurance only one man, Mr Browne, knew that there would be someone still in the office after half past eight.

Browne had dined with a friend that evening, but his stomach had been troubling him and he had decided to leave early, hoping that a walk in the fresh air would do him good. He had adjusted his watch by a chiming clock when it struck nine, and departed about ten minutes later. On his way home he passed the office, which was barely five minutes’ walk from his friend’s house, and saw that a light was on. Since he knew of Gibson’s plan to work late, he had not thought this to be strange.

As he walked past, however, the outer door of the office had opened, and he saw a man standing in the entrance hall that led to the main office. At first he thought the figure was Gibson, but this was only because that was the man he would have expected to see. He had then realised that it was not Gibson at all, but Sweetman. He had not been inclined to stop and talk as he was still feeling unwell and wanted to hurry home, so he simply nodded an acknowledgement. The man had neither nodded nor spoken, but withdrew back into the building.

Browne’s identification of Sweetman was the crucial piece of evidence on which the trial turned. The defence tried to suggest that he was mistaken, that the lighting was poor, as it was after sunset, that the figure in the doorway was standing with the light behind him and would, therefore, have been no more than a silhouette, but Browne said that the gas lamp in the street provided more than adequate light to recognise a man whom he had known personally for some years. He was questioned about his eyesight and asked to read a poster from across the court, which he successfully did. He was questioned about his original belief that the man had been Gibson, since Gibson and Sweetman did not resemble each other, the one being twenty-five years senior to the other. He said that it was a thought that had crossed his mind for an instant only, as the two men were of similar height and build, and he had expected to see Gibson there, but the very next moment he had realised his mistake.

Mr Browne, his evidence unshaken, stepped from the witness box, his former colleague’s fate sealed. It was hardly necessary, but the friend with whom Browne had dined that evening came forward to confirm that his guest had adjusted his watch as the clock, which kept perfect time, chimed nine and left about ten minutes later. There was no argument about the time required to walk from his home to the office of J. Finn Insurance, it was almost exactly five minutes. He was a customer, and he had done it himself.

The judge in his summing up had made sure to instruct the jury that they were not entitled to draw any conclusions about Mrs Sweetman’s absence from the courtroom, nevertheless, thought Frances, they cannot have failed to ponder on the reasons she had not been there to demonstrate her belief in her husband’s innocence.

Frances did not wish Mr Gibson any ill, but she knew that had the man died there would have been an inquest, and the evidence given there, probably before any criminal charges had been laid, would have been the best and the freshest there could be. What a man might or might not have seen or done, ruminated upon and agonised over for two months might emerge quite differently at a trial.

Frances turned back through the pages to find the initial reports of the robbery, which had mainly focused on the condition of the injured man and old Mr Finn’s distress. Two weeks later the
Chronicle
described the appearance of Hubert Sweetman at the first police court hearing, which added nothing to the story. The adjourned hearing a week later was the first proceeding to take detailed evidence. Mr Gibson had been too ill to attend, and it was stated that his memory of events was still very cloudy, although he was starting to recall a few details.

On this occasion, Mr Minster, who, Frances noticed, had not been called to give evidence at the subsequent trial, had testified that he had been walking down Westbourne Grove at half past nine and seen a light on in the office. Browne also gave his account of the evening, and the timings, confirmed by his friend, were identical to those later described at the trial, but his identification of the man he had seen at the door was far shakier. The difference, Frances realised, was that Gibson’s memory of looking at his watch had yet to emerge. It was not until a month later that it became known that the robbery had taken place before nine o’clock and that the man Browne had seen at the door after that hour could not, as he had at first thought, been Gibson, who was then lying unconscious in the office.

When Browne had given evidence before the magistrates, however, he had still thought it possible that he might have seen Gibson, which meant that the robbery would have taken place after a quarter past nine. Gibson and Sweetman, he pointed out, although different in age, were of very similar build, both had trim beards, and Gibson, while older, had been vain enough to dye his whiskers. He had certainly felt that the man at the door had been someone he knew and not a stranger, or he would not have walked on believing nothing to be the matter. The defence tried to show that Browne had, as he supposed, seen Gibson, either that or he had seen a stranger and only imagined he had seen someone he knew. The hearing had then been adjourned for another week as Mr Gibson’s doctor thought his patient might soon be recovered enough to testify. A week later, Mr Gibson was carried into the court, and here for the first time said that he could recall looking at his watch, thus placing the time of robbery in the half hour leading up to nine o’clock. It was put to Mr Browne that he could not therefore have seen Gibson after nine, and he accepted that this was not possible. He was adamant, however, that the man in the doorway was not a stranger otherwise he would certainly have alerted the police. He now thought it very likely that the man he had seen was Hubert Sweetman. No one else in the office matched the description of the figure he had seen, since Mr Finn and Mr Elliott were taller, Mr Minster broader and with large side-whiskers, Timmy much shorter, and Mr Whibley both shorter and more rotund.