The Dawn of Reckoning (23 page)

As early as five o’clock the next morning a queue began to
form outside the court. The doors were opened at ten, but the building was so
small and the number of pressmen so large that only a few dozen out of many
hundreds could gain admittance.

Counsel for the defence was Sir Robert Hempidge, K.C., whose name had been
associated with some of the most famous cases, both civil and criminal,
during the past dozen years. Prosecuting for the Crown was the
Solicitor-General, Sir Theydon Lampard-Gorian, K.C., M.P.

The opening speech for the Crown was delivered by Sir Theydon in his usual
manner. Unimpressive—almost even dull—at first, it gradually
worked up during its two hours’ length to a pitch of excitement in which, as
Mr. Milner-White remarked, “every face, including the prisoner’s and the
judge’s, seemed held by the hypnotic spell of those calm, freezing words. The
prisoner looked pale and care-worn, through his spruce bearing and keen
thoughtful eyes drew attention from the fact.”

Sir Theydon began by giving a rough sketch of the prisoner’s life and his
relations with the late Mr. Monsell. He began with the prisoner’s first
meeting with the deceased at Cambridge, and quickly outlined the history of
the friendship up to the eve of the tragedy. He mentioned Mr. Monsell’s
marriage “with a foreign lady—a native of Hungary,” and prisoner’s
friendship with his friend’s wife as well as with his friend. “How far this
friendship developed is a matter of conjecture, but there is some evidence
that it aroused a certain amount of local gossip at the time.” Sir Theydon
then went on to mention the polar expedition which took the prisoner away
from England for two years, and on which he “bore himself with a high courage
and a distinction which no fair-minded Englishman, least of all I myself,
would attempt to deny.”

Sir Theydon sketched the prisoner’s changes of abode after returning to
England, and mentioned that one of his private cases had been that of his
friend Mr. Monsell, whom he had attended for pneumonia. “The prosecution does
not suggest that in this matter he acted in any way dishonourably or
unprofessionally.

“Now,” continued Sir Theydon, “let us make a particular examination of the
events that occurred during the month or so that preceded the crime. I shall
bring forward witnesses to show that on several occasions during that time
the prisoner met Mrs. Monsell in London without her husband’s knowledge, and
that she wrote to the prisoner many letters imploring him to meet her. Some
of these letters were intercepted by Mr. Monsell and never reached their
destination. The fact was, that Mr. Monsell had begun to suspect his wife of
infidelity and had taken steps to have her watched.

“On the day that the late Mr. Grainger, M.P. for Chassingford, died, thus
precipitating the bye election, Mrs. Monsell went to London and met the
prisoner at Liverpool Street Station. They went to a restaurant near by and
talked for several hours together. This was on February 7th. On the 16th the
prisoner visited the Monsells at Chassingford, apparently in the role of
friend of the family. In the evening Mr. Monsen had to speak at a public
meeting, and the prisoner stayed in the house with Mrs. Monsell. They were
alone except for the butler, whose evidence we shall shortly hear.

“On February the 22nd, just five days before the night of the crime, Mrs.
Monsell went again to London and visited the prisoner at the Bethnal Green
Hospital. She stayed there from five in the afternoon until ten in the
evening, when she had to hurry back to catch the last train to Chassingford.
On the following Saturday the prisoner wrote Mrs. Monsell a letter which she
destroyed immediately and answered. What this letter contained we should like
very much to know, and perhaps the evidence we bring will help us to hazard a
surmise.

“Now we come to the actual day of the crime. It was the day of the
bye-election, and Mr. Monsell was suffering from the strain of the fight. He
therefore asked his wife to deputize for him at the declaration of the poll.
She left Chassingford Hall at six p.m., leaving her husband reading quietly
in his study. We have evidence that she arrived at the Town Hall at about
six-ten, and that she did not leave until after midnight, when the result had
been declared. This took place just before midnight, and she rang up her
husband to tell him the news. She could get no answer. And no wonder, for at
that very moment—at that very moment—the telephone-bell in his
study was ringing beside a dead men.

“What had happened at the Hall while the busy and exciting count of votes
was being taken not a couple of miles away? I shall be able to tell you that
in a few short sentences. The butler at the Hall, who, though he suffers from
deafness, is in every other way a thoroughly dependable witness, will say
that he admitted the prisoner at eight-twenty p.m. and showed him into Mr.
Monsell’s private study. He (the butler) then went to his pantry, which is
situated immediately next to the study. He had some supper, and then went
back to the study to replenish the fire. It was his duty to do this every
hour without being specially summoned. When he knocked at the door and
entered the room, he saw Mr. Monsell and the prisoner standing up facing each
other. He could not hear them saying anything, but he could see from their
faces that they were in the midst of a quarrel. He naturally performed his
duties as quickly as he could and then went out. Now, gentlemen, so far as
the prosecution have been able to discover, that was the last time Mr.
Monsell was seen alive by any human being except the prisoner.

“The butler did not go immediately to his pantry after attending to the
fire. He went upstairs to his bedroom, which is in the attics, and he was
there some time arranging his clothes and doing other odd jobs. About eleven
o’clock, thinking that it was getting time for the election result to be
known, he went downstairs to the pantry again and dozed off to sleep. He was
awakened by a sudden shriek from the next room. When he gathered his wits and
went to the study, he found the tragedy complete—Mr. Monsell shot
through the breast and his wife fainting beside his body.”

Sir Theydon then proceeded to describe the steps taken by the police and
by Scotland Yard when they were called in. They found in the shrubbery a
revolver of a most unusual kind, with the prisoner’s initials engraved upon
it. The prisoner admitted it was his, and “his explanation of how it came to
be there you will be able, gentlemen, to consider in due course.” Sir Theydon
then gave a detailed description of the revolver and the ammunition it
required, remarking that it was a type of weapon specially constructed for
use in very low temperatures. “In fact, the prisoner admits that he used this
particular weapon to kill seals on the ice-floes of Antarctica.

“The contention of the prosecution,” continued Sir Theydon, “is that the
prisoner shot and killed Mr. Monsell some time between nine o’clock and a
quarter to midnight. He escaped through the window, which was found wide open
when the crime was discovered, because he did not wish to meet the butler on
the way out. In his haste he dropped the revolver in the shrubbery. There are
traces of his footmarks,” went on Sir Theydon, “leading across the lawns
towards the lane, where he had left his motor-cycle.”

Sir Theydon then detailed the prisoner’s movements after the crime. There
were a series of witnesses who would be called to prove absolutely what the
prisoner did. “At ten minutes to midnight he was seen passing through the
village of Nasechurch. At half-past twelve he stopped at an open-all-night
petrol-station at Bishop’s Stortford. Here he asked for his tank to be filled
to the brim, despite the fact that by that method he was charged the price of
three gallons for what was only a little over two. He was evidently not only
in a great hurry, but anticipating a journey of some length. Half-past one
saw him at Cambridge, and five minutes to two at Ely. It is eighteen miles
between these two places, so the rate works out at well over forty miles per
hour. I will not weary you, gentlemen, with details of this high-speed
Odyssey; suffice it to say that the prisoner arrived in Hull at a few minutes
after six, garaged his machine, telling the proprietor that he would call for
it in a few days, breakfasted at a workmen’s restaurant, and boarded the
Hull-Bergen steamer about a quarter of an hour before sailing-time. His
passport and steamer-ticket were both in order.

“This,” went on Sir Theydon, striking the desk with his fist, “is no
ordinary crime, committed in the heat of the moment by a weak man distraught
by guilty passion. On the contrary, it is a crime carefully thought out and
wilfully executed, the crime of a man who possesses both ingenuity and
will-power. He set out from London with the fixed intention of killing his
friend. He loaded his revolver, bought his steamboat ticket for Bergen, and
packed a minimum of travelling-kit on the rear-carrier of his
motor-cycle—all with the fixed intention of killing his friend. If
ever, gentlemen, a murder deserved the adjective ‘wilful’ this is that
murder…”

Here the court adjourned for lunch.

In the afternoon began the calling of the witnesses. John Venner, butler
of the deceased, gave evidence of the finding of the body. His deafness made
him a very difficult witness to cross-examine, and once or twice Sir John
Hempidge, counsel for the defence, addressed him very sharply. A
police-constable stood by him in the witness-box and shouted each question
into his ear.

Cross-examined, he said that according to his master’s orders, he visited
the study every hour to put coal on the fire.

“It was your custom to go in without being specially summoned?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you not go in at ten or eleven o’clock?”

“I had orders not to put coal on the fire after nine.”

“Not even if there was a guest with your master?”

“No.”

“You mean to say that even if your master was entertaining visitors he
would let the fires go out after nine o’clock?”

“If he wanted anything after nine, he used to send for me specially.”

“How did he send for you?”

“He used to ring.”

“And could you hear the ring?”

“Yes. It was a very loud one.”

“Did it not strike you as strange that your master did not ring for you
after nine o’clock?”

“You expected that he would stay up to hear the result of his own
election?”

“I thought he would.”

“And yet you were not surprised when he did not ring for you? Did you
expect him to sit up with the fire out?”

Witness appeared not to catch the question. When it had been repeated to
him, he replied hazily: “I don’t know. I only did what I was told.”

“Now,” continued Sir John, “you have said that you were asleep in your
pantry when you were awakened by a shriek. How was it that, being so deaf,
you could hear such a sound in another room?”

“It was a very loud shriek.”

“Loud enough to waken a very deaf man in another room?”

“Mr. Monsell’s study was the room just next to my pantry.”

“I see. And now let us turn back to the time when you admitted the
prisoner into the house. What was he wearing?”

“His morning coat and a cloth cap.”

“And he went into the study with them on?”

“Yes.”

“With his cap on?”

“He carried his cap in his hand.”

“You said just now he went in with his cap on.”

Witness appeared confused. Further cross-examined, he said that the reason
he did not take prisoner’s hat and coat was that prisoner seemed in a great
hurry and rushed past him.

“I want you to tell the court plainly what you heard between the time you
left the study after replenishing the fire and the moment you were awakened
by Mrs. Monsell’s shriek.”

“I heard nothing at all.”

“Nothing outside the house?

“No.”

“No sound of a motor-bicycle, for instance?”

“No.”

“Children, I am told, were letting off fireworks all the evening, and
there was a considerable amount of noise due to the election. Did you hear
any of it?”

“No.”

The next witness was Dr. Livingstone Hardy, who described how he was sent
for shortly after midnight. After giving medical evidence, he was sharply
cross-examined by Sir John.

“You state that in your opinion the shot was fired from a distance of six
or seven feet from the victim?”

“Yes.”

“How do you judge that?”

“From the condition of the flesh round the wound.”

“And from that you are certain that the injury could not have been
self-inflicted?”

“I always guard myself from saying that I am certain. It is my opinion,
however, that the shot could not possibly have been fired by Mr. Monsell
himself.”

“Would the death have been instantaneous?”

“Nearly so.”

“What do you mean by ‘nearly so’?”

“A matter of a couple of minutes, perhaps.”

“Would it be impossible, after receiving such a wound, to get up by a
superhuman effort and walk a few paces?”

“I always guard myself from saying that anything is impossible. And as a
medical man I do not know what a superhuman effort is.”

“In plain words, sir, if you choose to understand them, I mean this: could
Mr. Monsell, after being shot, have walked a couple of yards?”

“I should say not. If, however, he was moving forward when he was shot, it
is quite possible that his momentum might have sent him staggering a couple
of yards, or even farther.”

Inspector Ridyard was then called. He described the search of the Hall
garden and the discovery of the revolver and the footprints. At the
conclusion of his evidence the court was adjourned until the following
day.

Larger crowds than ever waited for admittance the next
morning, but the available accommodation was even more restricted than on the
previous day.