Silence in Court (19 page)

For the first time the voice faltered, because the joke had turned to tragedy and brought them here. Whatever happened, nothing would ever be the same again.

“How long were you with Mrs. Maquisten?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Did you have tea with her?”

“Oh, yes. I got her soothed down a bit, and I had a cup and she had a cup, and then I had to rush.”

“Did she say anything more about being deceived?”

“No. I got her fairly soothed, and I think she wanted her tea.”

She was taken through her movements from eight o'clock, when she re-entered the house.

“You dined with your cousins?”

“Yes, with Dennis, Honor, and Carey.”

“Was Mrs. Maquisten's intention to alter her will discussed among you?”

“Of course it was.”

“Were you asked whether Mrs. Maquisten had told you who had deceived her?”

“Oh, yes. We all said she hadn't.”

“The question was generally discussed?”

“Oh, yes. She hadn't told any of us.”

“No one admitted to having been told—that is what you mean, isn't it?”

“I mean she hadn't told anyone.”

“Mrs. Hull, if you think, you will see that you can only answer for yourself. So far as the others are concerned, all you can say is that no one admitted to knowing who it was that was to be cut out of Mrs. Maquisten's will. That is so, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“No one did admit to this knowledge?”

“No.”

“After dinner did you all go to Mrs. Maquisten's room for coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Will you describe the order in which you went.”

“My cousin Honor King and I went up first because we were going to change. Carey came up after us. Honor and I were talking until she went down. Our rooms are next door to each other. She was ready first. By the time I got down the other three were there.”

A giddy feeling came over Carey. Her mind swung back. The scene opened before her, small and bright like a picture seen in a camera—Cousin Honoria's room—the coffee-table set—Ellen grumbling and talking about hop pillows—and Carey Silence in a blue dress getting up and going through to the bathroom to get a sleeping-draught. Step by step, as Nora's voice went on, she saw it all happen again. She was coming back from the bathroom with the glass in her hand, and it was more than half full. She saw herself take it over to Honor at the coffee-table. She saw the milk, the coffee, the two lumps of sugar go in, leaving about a third of an inch of space at the top of the glass. She saw herself go back to Cousin Honoria and fetch the brandy flask from beside the bed. The mingled smell of coffee and cognac came up to her again on the heated air of the room. She saw Honoria Maquisten put the glass to her lips and drink. She heard her say, “And now I'll have a decent cup of coffee.”

All their faces very bright, clear, and alive. Cousin Honoria alive—enjoying her coffee, enjoying keeping them guessing. The fire burning with a clear, hot flame. The smell of the brandy coming up on the heated air.

It was very hot. There was a dampness breaking out on her palms, on her temples. The air in the court thickened and swirled about her, it filled with little bright sparks. Nora's voice receded. She thought, “If I faint, it will be as bad as a confession. If I faint now, they're bound to think I did it. I mustn't—I mustn't, mustn't,
mustn't
.” She drove her nails hard into her sweating palms. She fought the faintness back with all the strength she had. Gradually the air cleared, the mist was gone, the voices had come back out of the distance again.

Hugo Vane was cross-examining Nora.

“Will you take your mind back to the afternoon of November 9th—the occasion when Mrs. Maquisten announced her intention to benefit Miss Silence. You said the announcement did not surprise you.”

“No, it didn't.”

“Because of Mrs. Maquisten's affection for Miss Silence?”

Nora repeated what she had said before.

“She was very fond of her.”

“And as far as your observation went, this affection was mutual?”

“I am sure it was.”

“Will you tell us how Miss Silence took the announcement that she was to benefit under Mrs. Maquisten's will. Did she appear pleased—excited?”

“No, she didn't. She got very red, and she looked dreadfully embarrassed and unhappy.”

“Did she say anything?”

“She said, ‘
Please
, Cousin Honoria—'”

“In fact, you would agree that she behaved in a modest and sensitive manner?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hull.”

With a final smile for Carey, Nora stepped down.

Her place was taken by Honor King, looking like a scared albino rabbit in her unbecoming black, with a skirt dipping behind, a fur sliding off her shoulders, and her hair in wisps under a dowdy black felt hat. She took the oath in a voice which may have been audible to the clerk, but which certainly carried no farther. No one had supposed that she would make a good witness, but as her examination proceeded and she had to be asked repeatedly to speak up, Mr. Lanthony's florid complexion was seen to deepen.

“Will you tell us, Miss King, at what time you came home on the afternoon of Monday, November 16th.”

Miss King's pale lips were seen to open, but no sound emerged.

“A little louder, if you please. I am afraid the jury cannot hear you. What time did you come home? At 5.15—is that right? Did you go up and see Mrs. Maquisten when you came in?”

Honor was presumed to have said “Yes.”

“And how long were you with her?… Kindly raise your voice a little. Did you say ten minutes?”

The judge leaned forward.

“Really, Mr. Lanthony, this witness is very inaudible. The jury must be able to hear her own words, not merely your repetition of them.”

It was at this point that Mr. Lanthony's colour began to deepen. He said, “Yes, m'lud,” in a respectful voice and turned a compelling eye upon the witness-box.

“Now, Miss King, there is really no need for you to be nervous. Please do your best to be audible, and tell us how you found your aunt.”

The words angry and excited had been heard so often in this connection that they were discernible in the witness's murmured reply.

“A little louder, Miss King. Will you tell us what Mrs. Maquisten said.”

Honor's voice came out suddenly, high and shrill.

“She said that she had been deceived.”

“Did she say who had deceived her?”

“No.”

“Was she angry with you personally?”

“No—she was just angry.”

“Yes—keep the voice up, Miss King. How long did you stay with her?”

Honor clutched at her slipping fur.

“I don't know—a few minutes—I came away as soon as I could.”

“Why was that?”

“I thought she ought to rest.”

“What did you do after that?”

“I went up to my own room.”

“How long were you there?”

“Until eight o'clock.”

“Were you alone?”

“Ellen Bridling came up at half past seven to try on a dress she was altering for me. It was one my aunt had given me. I wanted to put it on.” The fur slipped again, was clutched again.

“Did you put the dress on?”

“Not then—it wasn't ready. I came up after dinner with my cousin and put it on then.”

“With Mrs. Hull? Did you go down with her?”

“No—she wasn't ready. I went down first.”

“And did you meet anyone?”

“Ellen Bridling was on the landing. She walked with me to the door of my aunt's room.”

A witness may have been coached, but evidence too obviously rehearsed is not to a jury's taste. Mr. Lanthony began to wish that his witness had remained inaudible. With her voice at a strained, unnatural pitch, she sounded for all the world like a child reciting a lesson, and a half-witted child at that. Privately, he was of the opinion that Miss Honor King should have been drowned at birth.

“When you entered Mrs. Maquisten's room, whom did you find there?”

“My aunt and Carey Silence.”

“They were alone together?”

“Yes.”

“Come back to the moment when you left your room. Do the stairs go straight down to the landing where you saw Ellen Bridling?”

“No, there is a turn.”

“Did you see Ellen Bridling before you reached the turn?”

“Yes, I looked over the banisters and saw her.”

“She was on the landing whilst you were coming down the stairs?”

“Yes.”

“So that Miss Silence was alone with Mrs. Maquisten during the time that it took Ellen Bridling to walk along the corridor, wait on the landing whilst you came downstairs, and walk back with you to the door of Mrs. Maquisten's room?”

The judge leaned forward again.

“Have we had any evidence that Ellen Bridling had been in Mrs. Maquisten's room?”

“M'lud, the matter is not in dispute. Ellen Bridling will be called.”

“Is that agreeable to the defence, Mr. Vane?”

“Yes, m'lud.”

The judge leaned back again, his eyes very bright and black.

Mr. Lanthony continued.

“Will you describe what happened in Mrs. Maquisten's room.”

Carey was forewarned. She took hold of herself and wouldn't look back. It wasn't so hard this time. Honor's voice, mechanical and without inflection, deprived her words of their power to call up the past. The words were just words.

When she had testified that the glass containing the sleeping-draught was more than half full at the time that Carey brought it in, that she had herself under the eyes of her three cousins added two lumps of sugar, some coffee, and a little milk, and had afterwards seen Mrs. Maquisten put in a dash of brandy and drain the glass, Mr. Lanthony had finished with her.

He sat down thankfully, and Hugo Vane got up.

“Just a moment, Miss King—I won't keep you. When you went into Mrs. Maquisten's room after dinner and found Miss Silence there, just what were their relative positions? Where, for instance, was Mrs. Maquisten?”

Honor caught at her fur.

“She was in her chair.”

This was a lesson she hadn't learned. Her voice wavered.

“And where was this chair of hers?”

“By the fire.”

“Was she facing the door as you came in?”

“Yes.”

“And where was Miss Silence?”

“Standing beside her.”

“Close beside her?”

“Yes.”

“Was she touching her?”

“Yes.”

“Will you describe what Mrs. Maquisten was doing.”

Honor's voice sank to a murmur. Only the word “hand” emerged.

“Please try to keep your voice up, Miss King. I am afraid I must ask you to repeat that. What was Mrs. Maquisten doing?”

“She was holding Carey's hand.”

There was a sound in the court, as if everyone there had moved a little. No one of these movements would have been audible by itself, but all together they made up a vague composite sound. Jeff Stewart took hold of the edge of the bench on which he was sitting and gripped it so hard that the mark was still across his palm half an hour later. Mr. Mordaunt looked at him and nodded, and the iron band about his heart gave way, to let him draw his breath.

From the dock Carey looked across to Honor King. There was colour in her cheeks—quick, bright colour. Her pulses drummed, because neither she, nor Mr. Mordaunt, nor anyone else had been sure what Honor would say—they hadn't been sure. But the words had been spoken now, and nobody could take them back—“She was holding Carey's hand.” She looked across at Honor and thanked her with her eyes. But Honor's eyes were down, her face pale and reluctant, her figure sagging, the fur sliding from her shoulders.

Hugo Vane went on cheerfully.

“Was Mrs. Maquisten speaking?”

“Yes.”

“Could you hear what she said?”

“No.”

“Was she looking at Miss Silence?”

“Yes.”

“In what way—with what expression?”

The fur slipped again. Honor clutched at it.

“Come, Miss King—I want an answer. Mrs. Maquisten was looking at Miss Silence, and I want to know how she was looking at her. Perhaps I can help you. Was the look an affectionate one?”

The pale lips moved. A faint sound came from them.

Hugo Vane beamed.

“Just a little louder, Miss King. I should like the jury to hear that ‘Yes.' Mrs. Maquisten was looking affectionately at Miss Silence when you came in, and holding her hand?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Miss King.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Dennis Harland limped up into the witness-box. He leaned on a stick, but no longer used a crutch. Carey, watching him, thought he looked stronger. She wondered if he would look at her, but he kept his eyes away.

He was taken by Mr. Lanthony through his interview with Honoria Maquisten on the afternoon of November 16th. He had returned to the house at six and spent half an hour with his aunt. She was angry when he came in, but not with him. She did not say with whom she was angry. She told him she had had a letter which upset her very much. She did not tell him who the letter was from.

“What did she tell you about the contents of this letter, Mr. Harland?”

“She said, ‘I've had a letter that has upset me very much. You'll know more about it tomorrow. But if anyone thinks they can deceive me, and blind me, and act a part and get away with it, they are very much mistaken, and so I mean to show them.'”

“Did you understand Mrs. Maquisten to use the words ‘they' and ‘them' in a plural sense?”

“No. She began the sentence with ‘anyone.' I think she said ‘they' and ‘them' to avoid saying ‘he' or ‘she.' At least that's how I took it. She just wasn't giving anything away.”