B-Berry and I Look Back (6 page)

“‘I take it,’ I said, ‘that feeling is running high.’

“The solicitor made a wry face.

“‘I’m afraid it is, Mr Pleydell. Very high. And most of the Coroner’s Jury certainly knew the dead man.’

“I nodded.

“‘And the Coroner?’ I said.

“‘We’re all right there. He’s very good at his job and he’s nobody’s fool.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m sorry to have to say that the chauffeur is badly rattled.’

“‘He’s afraid of the verdict?’

“‘Yes.’

“This was natural enough. As I have said, cars were unpopular then, and verdicts of manslaughter were frequently returned. It didn’t follow, of course, that whoever was driving went down: but he had to stand his trial at the next Assizes. And if the case went wrong, he was sent to jail. And not for six months, either.

“He gave me a few more facts and showed me the police report.

“‘Well now,’ I said, ‘will you have the chauffeur in?’

“He was a nice-looking fellow, aged, I think, thirty-five. His licence was clean, and we’ll say that his name was Blake.

“The solicitor introduced us.

“Then –

“‘Blake,’ I said, ‘I’m here to look after you. And I’m going to do my best to get a verdict of accidental death. But I can’t do it, Blake, unless I have your help. And the only way you can help is by telling the absolute truth. Never mind if the truth is against you. I’ve got to convince the jury that you are an honest man. If I can do that, we’re home. But that is our only chance.’

“‘Very good, sir,’ said Blake.

“‘And now please tell me what happened from first to last.’

“Well, he told me what I’ve told you. And he kept on saying, ‘He never gave me a chance.’

“‘I know what you mean,’ I said: ‘but tell me what you mean in so many words.’

“‘Well, I did all I could, sir, but he did nothing at all. If he’d turned sharp to his right, he might have had a spill, but he wouldn’t have hit the car.’

“‘I quite understand,’ I said. ‘Was the road behind you clear?’

“‘Nothing behind or in front, sir. No cars, I mean.’

“‘And now tell me this. What speed were you going, when the accident occurred?’

“‘Twenty miles an hour, sir,’ said Blake.

“I knew he’d say that, of course. For twenty miles an hour was the speed limit then. (At least, I think it was. Any way, it was very low and was regularly ignored.) And everyone going over twenty was out of court. And I mean what I say. That was the end of his case.

“‘Blake,’ I said, ‘you’re going to be asked that in court. And if you give that answer, you’ll get a verdict of manslaughter, sure as a gun. Why? Because they won’t believe you. I don’t believe you, myself. You were going twice that speed, and you know it as well as I.’

“Blake put a hand to his head.

“‘But I can’t say that, sir,’ he said: ‘because, if I do, I’ll just be cutting my throat. Anything over twenty’s against the law.’

“‘We’re not in court now,’ I said. ‘Tell me here, in this room, what was your speed, when the cyclist hit the car.’

“Blake looked over his shoulder. Then he took a deep breath.

“‘About fifty, I’d say, sir. I never ’ad time to look. But–’

“‘Why were you going so fast?’

“‘Because I was tryin’ to clear him. I shoved my foot right down. But for the lamp-post, I think I might of done it. Not that I cared about that, but it checked my speed. I couldn’t avoid it, of course. They would put one just there.’

“‘That’s a very good answer, Blake, and I want you to say it again. Why were you going so fast?’

The chauffeur repeated his words.

“‘Good. That is the answer you’re going to give in court. And, if you give it, Blake, I believe I can get a verdict of accidental death.’

“‘But–’

“‘Listen, Blake. If you give any other answer, I think you’ll go down. You see,
that answer rings true
…and it shows you were doing your utmost to save the cyclist’s life. You saw the lamp-post ahead, but you didn’t care about that.’

“‘I was over the speed-limit, sir.’

“‘I know you were. But why? Because you were doing your best to save a man’s life. And now let’s leave the matter. Tell me this. Was the cyclist moving fast?’

“‘Come out like a flash, sir. As if he had the road to himself.’

“‘I shouldn’t say that in court. I’m not saying it isn’t true. I think it probably is. But the jury won’t like it at all – because it is a reflection upon the dead man. You see the point?’

“‘Yes, sir.’

“‘Very well. My answer to that question would be, ‘I’m afraid he was. Very fast.’

“‘I’m afraid he was. Very fast.’

“After half an hour I’d got him pretty well schooled. Finally, I said, ‘Don’t be afraid of the truth. It’s the strongest card you’ve got. If the jury thinks you’re honest, I don’t think they’ll send you down.’

“When, about an hour later, I entered the Coroner’s Court, I hoped I was right. The hostility made me feel cold. I don’t think I’ve ever been so conscious of an atmosphere. And the court was crammed. Three of the orphans, stony-faced and wearing the deepest mourning, sat in the front row. Happily, I had told Blake to wait outside the court, until I sent for him.

“When the AA man appeared, a minute or so after me –

“‘Blake tells me,’ he said, ‘that you’ve told him to stay where he is. Don’t you think he ought to hear the evidence of the police?’

“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I do. But we’ll have to let that go. If he is to sit in this court for half an hour, he will be all to bits when he enters the box. But once he’s being examined, he won’t notice the atmosphere.’

“When the Coroner took his seat, he looked very grave, but I saw at once that he was a proper man. When the jury took their seats, they looked very grim.

“Well, the case took the usual course – identification of the dead man, police statement, surgeon’s evidence. Mercifully, nothing was said about the deceased’s familiarity with the roads. I never opened my mouth – I mean, I asked no questions. I fear the AA man felt that I should have questioned the police; but the wicket was so sticky that I let the loose balls go.”

“Were you wise?” said Berry.

“Yes, I think I was right. I might have got an answer that didn’t suit me at all.

“Then the chauffeur was called…

“I rose at once and requested the Coroner’s permission to examine him. This he gave. To my immense relief, although he was very nervous, he did very well. I led him as much as I dared. In the Coroner’s Court, you can get away with such things.”

“When you say ‘led him’,” said Jill, “what exactly d’you mean?”

“This, my sweet. I put to him ‘leading’ questions. A ‘leading’ question is a question which indicates unmistakably the answer you wish to receive. That you may not do in examination-in-chief. I mean the Judge will stop you – at least, he should. For instance, I said to the chauffeur, ‘To see the cyclist emerge from the side road so fast must have been a very great shock?’ And the chauffeur replied, ‘A very great shock, sir.’ ‘
You
saw the frightful danger?’ ‘I did, sir. But he didn’t seem to see it. He held straight on.’

“But the Coroner was very decent. He was, of course, well aware of the prejudice which I was fighting, and he was a just man. He let me say a few words before he summed up: and the direction he gave was very fair. Then the jury retired. They were out for about twenty minutes, if I remember aright. And then they came back and said ‘Accidental death.’

“So that was all right. And I do think justice was done. I quite believe that Blake was – well, popping along. But for a cyclist to whip out of one of those side roads on to and
across
the London road was – well, suicidal. Be that as it may, it was a very near thing. As I have said, the prejudice in that court made me feel quite cold. I knew it was coming, of course, and, again as I think I’ve said, I’d already made up my mind that the only thing that could break it was transparent honesty.

“I remember that I said to the jury, ‘I’m not here to ask any favours. Subject to the Coroner’s direction, you will bring in the verdict which you think you ought to bring in. I have come down to see that the chauffeur’s case is fairly and squarely presented, to show that he did his utmost to save this valuable life. And don’t forget, gentlemen, that he would be dead himself, if he hadn’t had that canopy over his head.’”

“That was very skilful,” said Berry. “And now tell me this – if you’d failed, and they’d returned a verdict of manslaughter, he’d have been committed for trial. Would he have got off at the Assizes?”

“I think he would. There wouldn’t have been the same prejudice there, you see. And counsel would have lammed in the fact that the cyclist never gave him a chance – which was, of course, perfectly true. But that was a card which I was afraid to play, because of the prejudice.”

“I give you best,” said Jonah. “It was a very good win. Even better than it looks.”

“Why d’you say that?” said Daphne.

My cousin looked at me and smiled, and I smiled back.

“He said it, my darling, because he is very shrewd. I concentrated the Court’s attention upon the accident itself. I did my utmost to keep their eyes fixed upon that – because I was deadly afraid of one very awkward question.”

My sister leaned forward.

“What was that question, Boy?”

“Well, supposing somebody’d asked the chauffeur this – ‘You tried to save the man’s life by putting your foot right down. Why didn’t you try to save it by applying your brakes?’”

My sister clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Exactly,” said I.

“D’you know,” said Daphne, “it never occurred to me.”

“For the same reason,” said I, “that it didn’t occur to the jury. I kept your eyes on the accident all the time.”

“Talking of Coroners,” said Jonah, “what is ‘The Coroner of the Verge’?”

“‘The Coroner of the Verge’ was the Coroner of the Royal Household. I use the past tense, because I believe the old title is now no longer used. ‘Within the Verge’, originally meant ‘Within ten or twelve miles of the Sovereign’s Court’; but by the time of HM King Edward the Seventh, ‘The Verge’ had come to mean ‘The precincts of the Sovereign’s residence’. If anyone died in those precincts and a doctor felt unable to give a death certificate, an inquest was held by ‘The Coroner of the Verge’. The idea was, no doubt, to preserve the privacy of the Court. I think the office survives, but that its holder is now known as ‘The Coroner of the Queen’s Household’.

“I remember Montague Guest’s sudden death in King Edward the Seventh’s reign. He was a very nice man, a close friend of the King’s, and was staying at Sandringham. One day he went out with the guns, though he wasn’t shooting himself: and he had a heart attack and died on the spot. It was expected that an inquest would be held by The Coroner of the Verge: but Guest’s doctor came down to Sandringham and signed the death certificate, because he had been attending him for heart trouble for a long time and was not at all surprised by his sudden death. Walking over the fields had been too much for him.”

“Were you often in the Coroner’s Court?”

“Only about half a dozen times, I’m thankful to say. It’s atmosphere is unpleasant, as you may well believe.”

“Sordid,” said Berry.

“It’s not exactly sordid. At least, it’s no more sordid than that of some Metropolitan Police Courts I could name. But the
raison d’être
of the Coroner’s Court is death – sometimes a dreadful death. And many tears are shed there, and painful evidence is heard. The only occasion on which I didn’t notice the atmosphere was at the inquest on Belle Elmore.”

“The Crippen Case?”

“Yes. It was all so dramatic and there was so much excitement that it didn’t seem like a Coroner’s Court. Then again there were no relatives. Even Crippen wasn’t there.”

“Why not?”

“I think he was on the high seas. There was no reason why he should be there. Human remains had been found. Very well. It was the Coroner’s duty to inquire into the circumstances of that unfortunate person’s death. Whether or no Crippen was involved remained to be seen.”

“Did the jury return a verdict of wilful murder?”

“I think so. I can’t be sure. It didn’t make any difference, for he was already under arrest.”

“What evidence was given?”

“Well, the police spoke to the discovery of the remains. And the police-surgeon gave evidence. Pepper, the Home Office expert, may have been there. I think Mrs Nash gave evidence – she was a friend of Belle Elmore’s and was really responsible for setting the ball rolling. But for that courageous lady, nothing would have been done. Oh, and Le Neve’s landlady went into the box.”

“That’s interesting. What did she say?”

I hesitated. Then –

“Well, it’s all in the files of
The Times
, so I may as well say. She said that one night Le Neve ‘had the horrors’. What precisely she meant, you can guess as well as can I. A severe emotional outburst – tears and wailing and lamentation. Any way the landlady ministered to her, and after a long time she managed to calm her down. But she never forgot that night – or that painful scene. If you’ll forgive me, I’d like to leave it there.”

There was a little silence.

Then –

“This,” I said, “has remembered something else. It’s only a side-light on a certain
cause célèbre
, but it may interest you.

“A man was arraigned for wilful murder at the Old Bailey. He was defended by Marshall Hall and he was acquitted. He did very well in the box. He was very cool and collected. The first question Marshall Hall asked him was, ‘Did you murder Agatha Collins?’ I think the question surprised him as much as it did the Court, for he hesitated a moment. Then he shrugged his shoulders and simply said, ‘It’s absurd.’ Which was, of course, a very good answer – and a very much better one than Marshall Hall deserved. Most men would have just said, ‘No’, which would have cut no ice. I may say that ‘Agatha Collins’ was not the victim’s real name.”

“Why didn’t Marshall Hall deserve it?”

“Because in asking that question he took a great risk. And counsel for the defence shouldn’t take any risks. That was a question from which Marshall Hall could have hoped to gain nothing, which, coming from his own counsel, was quite liable to shake the defendant up. It might easily have provoked an outburst: and when a man loses control, he may say anything.