Prince of Secrets (21 page)

Back in the courtroom a table had been laid out for baccarat. Two officials were seated face to face, one ready to lay out the cards, the other to act as Sir Ratcliffe. A chair was offered to Cobie. Sir Darcy instructed him to place it where he had sat on the fateful night when he had been an observer. A third official stood by ready to write down every card laid down, and every move made by the pseudo-Sir Ratcliffe, to check Cobie's recall when the cards had been removed, and his memory test began.

This was the boring part. Dinah, sitting between Violet and Hendrick Van Deusen, had asked him during the recess when the spectators' seating had rung with noise, ‘Can he do it, Mr Van Deusen? Can he really do such a remarkable thing?'

Somehow she thought that Mr. Van Deusen would be able to answer her—and would tell her the truth.

‘He has done more difficult things than this test, Lady Dinah,' he had told her truthfully.

Violet had cawed, ‘What a party piece, to be sure,' and he had given her one of his oblique amber looks and said,

‘No party piece, Lady Kenilworth, and more than an action for slander has depended on his memory before now.'

Dinah did not doubt it. Her husband's face wore an expression which she—and Hendrick Van Deusen—knew well. It was a distant one of great severity. Distant because in some strange way he was not in the court at all, but was in some limbo where only he existed.

Finally, it was over. The judge said, ‘You may return to the witness box, Mr Grant, in order to complete the test.'

The cards were removed, and Cobie's ordeal now began. He had begun to sweat, but it was a cold sweat, not a hot one, and no one could tell from his appearance that he was at all discommoded.

Sir Darcy asked, ‘Are you ready, Mr Grant?'

‘Yes.' Cobie's answer was as curt as he could make it.

‘Then I will ask you to name each card as you recall it, and the clerk will signify whether your answer is true or false by calling out Yes, or No.'

Cobie closed his eyes, and began to summon up his strength. He was experiencing two strangely opposite things. As he began to speak each card he was about to name swam into his view, occupying the whole of his vision, and simultaneously, he was not in the room in present time at all, but was experiencing the action of a few moments ago.

If the courtroom had been quiet when he began, the silence resembled that of the tomb as he named each card correctly. Approaching the mid-point of his test, still calling the cards without making an error, the silence became almost oppressive. Once he paused, and opened his eyes. He could see Dinah, willing him to succeed, and for a moment the being who hovered over the courtroom in past time, reached out to touch her with his mind.

Dinah felt the touch as something silky pushing at the edge of her consciousness—and then the courtroom disappeared. She was in a strange dark place, very hot, lit only by a moon and distant stars. Somehow, she was not herself—her self had gone—but she was the man whom she loved.

Opposite to her, propped up against some rocks, and wrapped around with blankets, was Mr Van Deusen, his face ashen white, not its usual sallow hue. He was speaking. Remarkably, he was calling out moves in chess, and she, Cobie-Dinah, was responding with counter moves. What was even more disturbing was that there was no chess board in sight, and although Mr Van Deusen was marking his moves down on a grubby piece of paper, he/she was playing from a board which existed only in his/her memory.

He/she said exultantly, ‘Mated, Schultz!' and Mr Van Deusen shook his head in wonder—and he and the strange scenery began to fade. She was back in the courtroom where Cobie had now begun to call out the moves the clerk had made in pushing his counters surreptitiously on and off the cards with a pencil, in imitation of what Sir Ratcliffe was supposed to have done.

Cobie was still unfaulted, and then he paused. The silence almost hurt Dinah, for it had a feral quality in it. The spectators might want the man in the witness box to succeed, but to have him fail, so far into his test, would be equally as exciting!

Walker felt the same. Oh, yes, this was Mr Dilley's most magic trick of all—but why had he stopped?

Cobie opened his eyes, and said, in his beautiful voice. ‘At this point the clerk pushed his counter backwards and forwards several times on and off the Ace of Spades and then sideways on to the Four of Hearts. After which he
turned to the clerk acting as banker, and whispered in his ear, “If that doesn't flummox the bastard, nothing will!”'

The silence of the courtroom was shattered. Laughter and cheers filled it. An usher called for order. The Lord Chief Justice, who had been as engaged as everyone else in the unfolding drama, said to the clerk, ‘You, there! Is that correct?'

The clerk said. ‘Yes, I moved my pencil on and off the cards named—as I am sure my colleague will confirm.'

Exasperated, the judge said, ‘I will rephrase that. Did the witness repeat correctly what you said?'

‘Yes, m'lud. I apologise, m'lud.'

The judge ignored him. He asked, ‘Mr Grant. If he whispered that to his partner, how did you hear him say it from where you were sitting?'

Cobie thought that to tell the truth might be the wisest thing, even though the judge might not believe him.

‘I don't know, m'lud. I only know that I was aware that he had whispered it—which he has admitted that he did.'

‘You don't know?' The judge shook his head. ‘I am stopping the test now. To continue it after this remarkable demonstration would be pointless. I am convinced that Mr Grant's claim as to his ability to remember exactly what he has seen is a true one. Tell me, Mr Grant, how far does this talent extend?'

Cobie hesitated. He turned away from the courtroom towards the judge so that no one could see his face. He was exhausted, as he always was after such strange feats.

‘So far as I care to extend it, m'lud. My recall is total. The difficulty is to forget.'

Lord Justice Coleridge shook his head in wonder. ‘Then you possess a great talent. Not many are blessed with it.'

Cobie said, summoning up his strength to do so, ‘Oh, no, m'lud. With due respect it is a curse, not a blessing.'

Dinah saw Mr Van Deusen shake his head in agreement, and felt that she, too, knew what her husband meant if no one else did. Not to be able to forget. Yes, that
would
be a curse.

Sir Halbert was on his feet again. ‘And with due respect, m'lud, I concede that Mr Grant has proved his point. I compliment him…' He paused, then added, sneering, ‘He could set up as a memory man on the halls—'

The judge interrupted him, his face severe again. ‘Indeed, Sir Halbert. What halls are these of which you speak?'

‘The music halls, m'lud. Where such magicians as Mr Grant are paid to entertain the vulgar.'

‘Then say so, Sir Halbert. Although I fail to see what point you are trying to make.'

From his hidden corner Walker whistled to himself. ‘Oh, Sir Halbert, you spoke better than you know!'

Sir Halbert was sneering again, his gown gathered up behind him—a danger sign.

‘It is this, m'lud. I would like to ask Mr Grant a question, with your permission, since unorthodoxy is reigning here today. Is it not also possible that, despite his astonishing memory, Mr Grant might be willing to testify incorrectly as to what he had seen that night at Markendale?'

The judge motioned for Cobie to answer. He said, ‘Yes, I suppose that may be so. But in the case of Sir Ratcliffe's conduct at Markendale, I am telling you what I saw—and remembered.'

Sir Halbert said testily. ‘The first part of your answer, Mr Grant, was all that I needed to hear. I trust you to instruct the jury to ignore the second part, m'lud.'

‘I will do so, Sir Halbert. Sir Darcy, you may continue your examination of the witness. I believe that you have not yet finished.'

‘Indeed, not, m'lud. My learned friend has seen fit to
sneer at the excellence of Mr Grant's memory and to cast doubts on his veracity. I believe, Mr Grant, that you have no need to be a magician, that—'

Sir Halbert was on his feet protesting. ‘Sir Darcy is leading the witness again, m'lud.'

‘So you are, Sir Darcy. If you have a question to ask of the witness, Sir Darcy, ask it.'

‘As your lordship wishes. What is your financial situation, Mr Grant?'

‘I am the President of the Trust, South West Mining Associates.'

‘What is its financial standing?'

‘It is good, sir. My own position as President means that my financial standing is also excellent.'

‘Is it up there with the Rockefellers and Vanderbilts, Mr Grant?'

‘I believe so, Sir Darcy.'

Sir Halbert rose again. ‘I must ask the learned judge what is the relevance of counsel's questions. We all know what Mr Grant's standing is.' This was said with a sly smile and a sneer.

The judge's reply was to ask Sir Darcy to justify his line of questioning.

‘M'lud, I seek to prove that Mr Grant is not only a witness of good character, but also that he has no need, nor can he gain anything, by lying about Sir Ratcliffe Heneage's actions.'

‘A witness of good character,' muttered Sir Halbert in a whisper which could be heard all over the courtroom. ‘I shall remember that when the time comes.'

‘Sir Halbert!' The judge's voice was aweful. ‘Please refrain from speaking during the witness's examination, or I shall be compelled to discipline you. You do your cause no service by such misconduct.'

But he was wrong. Sir Halbert was trying to suggest that Mr Jacobus Grant had something dubious about him, and if he hinted it often enough there might be those in the jury who would believe him.

After that things quietened down. Sir Darcy questioned Cobie about what had occurred after he had seen Sir Ratcliffe cheating—a phrase he constantly used—and how he came to be one of the witnesses of the paper which Sir Ratcliffe had signed, admitting his guilt.

‘One final question,' he said as the long day drew to a close. ‘Did you see Sir Ratcliffe Heneage cheat at cards?'

‘I did.'

‘Did you, and do you, believe that he was guilty?'

‘I did, and do.'

‘Thank you, Mr Grant. I have no more questions for the witness, m'lud.'

Sir Halbert rose immediately, his whole attitude that of a bloodhound sniffing prey.

Lord Justice Coleridge, at his most majestic, sighed and said, almost as a reprimand, ‘No, Sir Halbert. The hour is late. The witness has been in the box since early this morning. You must wait until tomorrow. The court is adjourned.'

On leaving the witness box, Cobie looked across at Sir Ratcliffe for a brief moment. What he saw in his enemy's face surprised him. His expression was almost gleeful.

Why?

It was something which would bear thinking of.

Dinah said in the carriage taking them home, ‘Are you very tired, Cobie? You look tired.'

She thought that she had never seen him look so weary before. He appeared to be exhausted, although he had not seemed so in the witness box. He was leaning against the cushions, his eyes closed. He opened them to smile at her, and said in his usual composed manner, ‘Yes, Dinah. Mor
tally tired. I can tell you, if no one else, that performing the sort of…feat…I did today—I can't call it anything else—is only done at an expense of spirit which I should not wish to incur often.'

‘That was what Mr Van Deusen said. He said…' She hesitated.

‘What did Hendrick say?' There was amusement on his face at last. He suddenly seemed more like his usual self.

‘That I was to look after you—seeing that he couldn't!'

‘Be my back-up. He must trust you.'

Cobie laughed noiselessly after he had said that. Dinah thought it had hurt him to do so.

‘Did you see Inspector Walker in court?' she offered him next.

He had closed his eyes again, opened them. ‘No. Was he there?'

‘Half-hidden. He came in just before you performed the magic trick, as Sir Halbert called it. Violet said it was magic—and that it must be a trick, a cheat. I said it wasn't. How could you know what the clerk was saying—since even he didn't know what he was going to say until he said it? Was it a trick, a cheat?'

‘No, Dinah. It wasn't a trick in the music hall sense. It's something I've always been able to do—if I want to do it. I can't explain it…' His voice tailed off.

‘You've known Mr Van Deusen a long time, haven't you?'

This was not really a question.

He nodded. Speech was tiring him.

‘I saw him. You looked at me in the middle of your recital of the cards. And then I was with Mr Van Deusen in a strange place, in the dark. You were playing chess with him, without a board.'

She wasn't sure whether she ought to say the next bit, but swallowed and said it. ‘You called him Schultz.'

Cobie regarded her with wonder. She had somehow tapped into his memories of his time in New Mexico when his conscious mind had been empty of everything but the sequence of the cards, and his recovery of the immediate past.

‘And then?' he asked her gently, for she was now as white as he was.

She shook her head. ‘Nothing. A flash, like a dream and…you were calling the cards again… I haven't told anyone, not even Mr Van Deusen. Is that his name—or is it Schultz?'

‘Van Deusen,' he said, sinking back into lethargy again. ‘Call him Van Deusen.'

That night they slept in one another's arms again. They had made love, and somehow it was the sweetest session which they had ever spent together. For the first time Dinah was protective of him. Always before she had been the one who was cared for, now their roles were reversed. She began to wonder how much his iron self-control and his expenditure of energy cost him—and wondering, fell asleep herself.