CHAPTER XV
When Godfrey woke on the morning of his trial he lay for some momentsthinking over the strangeness of his position. He had been definitelyassured by Codey that nothing could prevent his being proved innocent,yet how difficult it was to believe this when he was lying on a prisonbed in a prison cell with all the grim appurtenances of a convict's lifebefore him. The very books upon the shelf, the spy-hole in the door,even his bed-clothes, reminded him that he was shut off from his fellowmen. At the usual signal he rose and dressed, and, having done so,tidied his cell in the customary fashion. After this his breakfast wasserved to him, and then he was permitted a short period of exercise inthe prison yard. He had not long returned to his cell before he wasinformed that it was time for him to set off to the Court.
Never, if he lives to be a hundred, will Godfrey Henderson forget thescene that met his eyes when he entered the Court--the judge and thesheriffs upon the Bench, the jurymen seated in their box, the rows ofcounsel, and the line upon line of eager-eyed spectators. When Godfreymade his appearance in the dock a sudden silence fell upon the Court.The Clerk of Arraigns rose and read over the charge preferred againsthim, namely, of murdering one Teresina Cardi, and this done he wascalled upon in the usual manner to plead. Advancing to the front of thedock Godfrey looked straight before him and said, in a calm, strongvoice: "Not guilty, my lord." The jury were then sworn, and as soon asthis important business had been completed the counsel for theprosecution rose and told the story of the crime. He described theengagement of the dead woman by the prisoner, his employment of her forsome considerable time, and then his hasty departure for the Continent.It would be shown that he had received a letter from her while in Egypt,and that almost immediately afterward he had returned to Naples. In thelatter city he had invited her to dine with him, and had taken her tothe Opera afterward. He commented upon the fact that the prisoner hadvoluntarily admitted to the police authorities that he had endeavouredto induce her to return to England. At that time, however, it must beborne in mind that he had not met the lady he now desired to make hiswife. Whether he had seen anything of the deceased, prior to theirmeeting in the Strand, it was as yet impossible to say. The fact,however, remained that his engagement to the lady in the country wasultimately announced. Despite that fact, only ten days before thewedding was to take place, he was known to have met the deceased womanat midnight, and had taken her to her home in Burford Street, leadingout of the Tottenham Court Road. By the medical evidence he wouldpresently call, he would prove that less than half-an-hour afterward shewas brutally murdered. Before half-past twelve, that is to say, withinan hour of the cabman picking them up in the Strand, he would prove thatthe prisoner returned to his Hotel in Piccadilly, very white andagitated, and had called for brandy. Since his arrest, an exhaustivesearch had been made at his residence, with the result that ablood-stained knife, which had been identified as having been purchasedby the prisoner in Cairo, had been discovered hidden behind a bookcasein his studio. As for the motive of the crime he would point out thatthe deceased woman wore a wedding ring, that she was known to entertaina great affection for the prisoner, and that the latter was about to bemarried to another lady. What was more probable than that he should wishto have the other woman out of the way before he could do so? That wascertainly only a conjecture, but it was one that carried a large amountof probability with it. He would now proceed to call his witnesses.
The first witness called was the proprietor of the lodging-house, whohad identified the body. He was followed by the German cabinet-maker,who had made the first and most important discovery. The police officer,who had been called in when the door had been opened, followed next,succeeded by the doctor who had made the post-mortem examination. Thequestion of identity and discovery having been settled, what the counselnext proposed to do was to connect the prisoner with the crime. Thecabman who had picked them up in the Strand and had driven them toBurford Street, was called, and the policeman who had seen them talkingtogether on the pavement there. Victor Fensden next deposed as to theaffection the deceased had entertained for the prisoner, and the effortshe had made to induce the latter to give her up. He described Godfrey'sreceipt of the letter from Teresina when on the Nile, and stated thatthe prisoner had said nothing to him concerning his intention to visitthe woman in Naples. His next meeting with the prisoner was at the MahlStick Club, where he had noticed a reluctance on his part to refer tohis association with the woman in the past. This was accentuated on thefollowing Saturday at the prisoner's residence in Midlandshire. Herecognised the knife produced, and recollected the circumstances underwhich it had been purchased by the prisoner. This concluded Fensden'sevidence, and he accordingly sat down. Various other unimportantwitnesses followed, and then the case was adjourned for the day.
Wrapped in suspense, Godfrey was driven back to the jail to turn theevidence over and over in his mind all night long. Whatever trust hemight place in Burrell and his discoveries, it was quite certain thatanother twenty-four hours would elapse before his deliverance could beexpected. Once more he scarcely slept. The various events connectedwith the trial thronged his brain with merciless reiteration. Withphonographic distinctness he could recall almost every word that wassaid. He could see the judge upon the Bench making his notes withpitiless exactness, the various counsel in the well of the Courtwhispering together, the importance of the jury, and theself-sufficiency of the Court servants. Yet he had Codey's assurancethat all was to be put right in the end, and with this knowledge he wasperforce compelled to be content.
At the same hour as on the previous day he was ordered to preparehimself for his journey to the Court. The evidence already given againsthim was so incriminating that the officials of the jail felt sure thathis condemnation was assured. They already looked upon him as a deadman, and marvelled among themselves that he could carry himself with somuch assurance.
Once more the Court was crowded. Fashionable London felt that the end ofone of the most interesting cases of late years was drawing near, and itwas anxious not to lose an opportunity of witnessing the _denouement_ ofthe tragedy.
"The Court is ready," said the warder, and once more Godfrey ascendedthe stairs that had constituted the link between life and death for somany hundreds of miserable beings before him. He found the judge, sternand implacable as before, upon the Bench, the various counsel in theirplaces, and everyone eagerly awaiting his appearance. He bowed to thejudge and took up his position at the rails. He determined that,whatever else they might think, they should not imagine that he wasafraid. Then, with the customary ceremonial, the case was commenced.
The counsel for the prosecution having finished his case, Mr. Rolland,having addressed the Court, prepared to call his witnesses. They werefew in number. The landlord of Godfrey's old studio in London deposedthat his rent had always been paid to the moment, and that he had heardthe deceased talk of the kindness she had received at the prisoner'shands. "It was always in the language of a dependent," he said, "and inno way that of a girl who believed her patron to be in love with her."
When the prosecution had declined to cross-examine this witness, thecounsel for the defence arranged his gown and assumed an even moreimportant air. It was evident that something was about to happen. Amoment later Victor Fensden was recalled.
"I am anxious, Mr. Fensden," said the counsel, "to ask you a questionregarding your return from the Continent. You have already told the jurythat you returned on the morning of the murder. Am I to understand thatthat was really so?"
"I arrived on Thursday, the 15th," said Victor, and a close observerwould have noticed that he shifted uneasily on his feet as he gave theanswer.
"I should be glad also to have your repeated assurance that, from themoment you saw the prisoner purchase that knife in Cairo, you did notbehold it again until it was handed you at the Magistrate's Court?"
"That also is quite true," said Victor, who by this time was more at hisease.
"That is all I want to ask you. You may
sit down," said the counsel."Call Simon Updale."
In response to the summons, a short, stout man, who was the possessor ofa fiery beard and the reddest hair ever seen on a human being, made hisappearance and took up his position in the box. He deposed that hisname was Simon Updale, and that he was an able seaman on a steamerplying between Dover and Calais. On a certain day, a month before themurder, he had been made the subject of a complaint to the captain bythe previous witness, Mr. Fensden. He was quite certain of the date andof the passenger's identity, for the reason that one of his mates hadbroken his arm before reaching Dover and he wanted to accompany him tothe hospital. On account of the complaint, however, he was not permittedto go.
George Perran, steward on the same boat, was next called. Hecorroborated what the previous witness had said, and recognised thewitness Fensden as being the gentleman who had made the complaint.
"That," said Mr. Rolland, "proves conclusively that the witness inquestion has committed wilful and corrupt perjury, inasmuch as that hewas in England a month before he stated in his evidence."
Every eye in Court was riveted on Victor Fensden, whose face turned aspale as the paper upon which I am writing.
"I shall now call James Tidmarsh," said Mr. Rolland, and in response tothe summons a small boy climbed into the witness-box.
His name, he stated, was James Tidmarsh, and he called himself an errandboy, though as a rule he spent his time hanging about the vicinity ofEuston Station. He remembered distinctly on the night of Friday, the16th, meeting a gentleman about eight o'clock outside the station whocarried a small wooden box in his hand. That gentleman stopped him andasked him if he would care to earn half a sovereign. Upon his eagerlyanswering in the affirmative, the stranger gave him the box in questionwith the sum of fifteen shillings. "Take it to the station," he said,"and hand it in at the parcel-office to be despatched to the addresswritten on the label. It won't cost more than a couple of shillings orhalf-a-crown, and you can keep the change for yourself. I'll wait hereuntil you return to tell me it's all right."
The boy then declared that he started off, handed the box in at theparcel-office and paid the money. In taking the money the clerk had_sauced_ him and he had retaliated to the best of his ability. Theresult was that the policeman on the platform gave him a good shakingand turned him out of the building. He informed the gentleman that hehad sent the parcel off, and he had not seen him since that moment untilhe came into Court and had heard the witness Fensden give his evidence.He, the witness to whom he alluded, was, without a shadow of doubt, thegentleman who had handed him the box to send to Detwich Hall.
The excitement in Court by this time may be better imagined thandescribed. The colour of Fensden's face was a dirty gray, and he seemedto gasp for breath. The counsel for the prosecution seemed uneasy, andeven the judge leaned farther forward than usual, as if he were afraidof losing a word of what was said.
The clerk in the parcel-office was next called, and stated that heremembered the incident in question. The box was a foreign one, and ashe had placed it on the floor he had remarked, "Another made inGermany."
The policeman who had turned the boy out of the station followed him. Hehad seen the boy deposit a small box upon the counter and heard him saysomething cheeky to the clerk. He thereupon bundled him out of thestation.
When this witness had finished his tale Mr. Rolland said: "Call JacobBurrell."
On hearing this a stir ran through the Court. The famous detective waswell known to all the officials within the building, and they, in thelight of this new discovery and the knowledge that this individual hadtaken up the prisoner's case, began to regard the matter in a somewhatdifferent light. There was a slight flicker of a smile upon the austerecountenance of the judge when the counsel asked the detective his name.
"Jacob Burrell," was the reply.
"I understand," went on the counsel, "that you were instructed by myfriend, the solicitor for the defence, to make an investigation intothis case. In the course of that investigation did you visit Naples?"
"I did," the other replied.
"And what did you discover there?"
"I found that the witness Fensden, although he has denied the matter onoath, was in Naples three weeks after the prisoner passed through on hisway to England."
The counsel here informed the jury that five affidavits to this effectwould be produced and read. Addressing the witness once more he said:
"Are you aware that the witness Fensden spent the greater part of histime in Naples in the company of the deceased woman?"
"I found that to be the case. On February 3rd they left Naples togetherfor Vienna, stayed together at the Hotel National, in the KaearntnerStrasse, and were married on the 26th of that month at the Church atFunfhaus, in the Gurtel Strasse. The wedding-ring, which was still uponthe left hand when it was sent to the prisoner, was purchased at theshop of Messrs. Radler & Hass, in the Kohlmarkt."
"The head of that firm is now in Court," said Mr. Rolland, "and willgive his evidence. Call Herr Radler."
Herr Radler thereupon entered the box which Burrell had vacated, andstated that he well remembered selling the ring in question to anEnglishman who was accompanied by a beautiful Italian lady. Thegentleman he recognised as the witness Fensden, and from the photograph,that had been shown to him of the dead woman, he was able to swear thatit was for her the ring was purchased.
Victor Fensden, at this point, sprang to his feet as if to speak, buthis voice failed him, and he sat down again.
A sworn copy of the marriage certificate having been produced and read,and handed up for the inspection of the jury, Jacob Burrell wasrecalled.
"When you had traced the witness and the deceased to Vienna, what didyou do?"
"I returned to England, _via_ Paris and Calais," he answered. "Onreaching London I followed up certain clews I had received, and foundthat the witness and the deceased lived for a short time together in thecountry."
"At what place?"
"At the village of Laleham on the River Thames."
Here the counsel for the prosecution rose to protest.
"Your lordship," he said, "I must respectfully submit that the questionas to whether Mr. Fensden cohabited with the deceased is not relevant tothe case. We are trying the prisoner at the Bar and not Mr. Fensden."
His opponent took up the challenge.
"I respectfully submit that I am in the right," said Rolland. "Ineliciting this information I am leading up to the question of motive,and I am sure my learned friend will admit that that is an all-importantpoint.
"I am afraid I must rule against you," said the judge, addressing theProsecuting counsel. "Anything that tends to throw a light upon theproceedings of the deceased so short a time prior to the murder canscarcely fail to be relevant."
Once more readjusting his gown, Mr. Rolland invited Burrell to proceed.
"How long did witness and the deceased occupy the house at Laleham?"
"For more than a fortnight. Then Fensden left her in a strange placewithout a penny in the world." (Here a murmur of indignation ran throughthe Court, which, by the judge's orders, was instantly suppressed.)
"That will do," said Mr. Rolland. "Call Elizabeth Raikes."
The owner of Laburnum Cottage next entered the box, and, though muchflurried by the novel position in which she found herself, gave evidenceto the effect that the deceased and Fensden had occupied apartments ather house for the period mentioned by the previous witness. She wasquite sure, from things she had overheard, that they were not happytogether, and she knew that the man treated the woman cruelly. Sometimeshe was away for a couple of days, and one day he disappeared altogetherwithout paying for anything they had had while in the house, and leavinghis wife totally unprovided for. She had heard the present case talkedabout, but had not associated the victim with the Mrs. Onslow who hadoccupied rooms at her cottage.
"I have two more witnesses to call," said Mr. Rolland, when Mrs. Raikeshad stepped down. "Then, my lord, I sh
all have completed my case. CallMrs. Wilhelmina Montgomery."
A tall, handsome woman, fashionably attired, stepped into thewitness-box and took the oath. In response to the question put her bythe counsel for the defence, she stated that her name was WilhelminaMontgomery, and that she was the widow of George Montgomery, late ofSheffield. "I live at No. 13, Bridgeworth Road, Richmond," shecontinued. "I first met the witness, Victor Fensden, at Baden, whiletravelling with some friends, in December last. We became very intimate,and, when he returned to England early in March, he called upon me atmy house. Eventually he asked me to marry him, and after somehesitation I consented to do so. I have three thousand a year investedin Consols, and a considerable amount of ready money lying idle at thebank. This may or may not have been his motive, but I have no knowledgeof that. Mr. Fensden was anxious for an immediate marriage, but to thisI would not consent. I knew that he was in the hands of the Jews, but Iwould have paid off his indebtedness after marriage. He stayed at myhouse on several occasions, as did others of my friends. One day I wentout to do some shopping, and on my return discovered him in my boudoir.He held a piece of yellow soap in his hand and a large number ofdoor-keys were spread out on the table before him. I asked him what hewas doing, and he answered that he was endeavouring to find a keysimilar to the one he had lost. My housekeeper had furnished him withseveral, and he had at last found one that fitted the imprint in thesoap. On the night of the murder he informed me that it would benecessary for him to attend an important meeting, and that it was justpossible he would not be back until late. As a matter of fact, it wasconsiderably after one o'clock, perhaps half-past one, when hereturned. On the Saturday following he left me to go down toMidlandshire to pay a visit to an old friend, he said, who was about tobe married. Before he went he once more pressed me for an earlymarriage, suggesting, knowing that I am fond of travelling, that weshould immediately set off for a long trip round the world."
The box which had contained the hands was then handed to her, and shewas asked if she recognised it.
"Yes," she answered immediately. "If you look underneath I think youwill find a large inkstain. (This proved to be the case.) I brought somethings in it from Vienna. How Mr. Fensden obtained possession of it,however, I do not know."
The counsel for the prosecution having no questions to ask, the witnesswas allowed to stand down.
"Call Joseph Hodder," said Mr. Rolland, and, to Godfrey's amazement, oneof his own under-gardeners entered the box. Having taken the oath, hestated, in reply to the counsel's question, that, on the Sundayfollowing the murder, it was his duty to attend to the stoking of thefires of the various conservatories at the Hall. He knew that hismaster and the ladies had gone to Church, because he had passed them inthe park, and that the strange gentleman had remained at home, because,when he had passed the drawing-room window on his way to his work, hesaw him sitting before the fire reading. Having attended to the fires inthe vineries and other garden-houses, he returned to the Hall itself tolook after the heat in the new winter garden that Mr. Henderson hadbuilt. From this house in question it is quite possible to see into thestudio, and, to his surprise, he discovered the gentleman visitor was nolonger in the drawing-room, but was kneeling beside the big bookcasenear the fireplace in the studio. It looked as if he were feeling forsomething behind it, but what that something was he had no idea. When hewas asked why he had not given information on this matter before, hereplied that he had not attached any importance to it until he hadtalked it over with the head gardener on the day following the search bythe police. Then he had gone to Miss Henderson, and had told her. Shehad written at once to his master's lawyer, and that was all he knewabout it.
"The evidence of this man," said Mr. Rolland, "completes my case."
The words had scarcely left his lips before Victor Fensden was seen tospring to his feet. Once more he opened his mouth as if to speak, andonce more he failed to utter a word. Then, with a loud cry, he fellforward in a swoon. Two of the policemen near at hand ran forward topick him up. Between them, they carried him out of the Court to anadjoining room. In the Court itself at that moment, it would have beenpossible to have heard a pin drop. Then the judge found his voice.
"Gentlemen," he said, addressing the jury, "after the astoundingevidence you have just heard, I am thankful to say that, in my opinion,there is not the least shadow of a reason for continuing the caseagainst the prisoner at the bar. In this I feel sure you will concurwith me."
The foreman of the jury entirely agreed with his lordship, and at thesame time desired to express, on behalf of himself and his brotherjurymen, their great regret that a gentleman of Mr. Henderson's positionshould, by another man's action, have been placed in such an unhappypredicament.
"With that I quite agree," said the counsel for the prosecution.
This was the signal for general applause in Court, which, somehow, wasnot checked by the judge as quickly as is customary in such cases.
When silence had been restored, the latter addressed Godfrey.
"Godfrey Henderson," he said, and his voice was very impressive, "byreason of the false evidence that has been given against you, by a crueland vindictive man, you have been brought to the dock of this Court, andcharged with the perpetration of a most cruel and bloodthirsty crime. Ofthat crime twelve of your countrymen have declared you to be innocent,and to their testimony I emphatically add my own. While it is not in mypower to offer you the hope of receiving any return for the anxiety youhave suffered, I can say something that I know you will value much more;that is, that you leave this Court a free man, and without the shadow ofa stain upon your character."
"I thank you, my lord," said Godfrey, quietly, and at that moment one ofthe ushers of the Court entered and approached the judge.
"Gentlemen," said the latter, again addressing the Court, "I think itonly right to make it known to you that a Higher Power than that Irepresent has intervened, and the wretched man, who has caused all thismisery and suffering, has been suddenly called to appear before agreater Tribunal. May God have mercy upon his soul!"
Then the Court was cleared, and Godfrey found himself shaking hands withSir Vivian and the men who had worked so hard to prove his innocence.When he had thanked them from the very bottom of his heart, Sir Viviantook his arm.
"Come away now, come away," said the old gentleman. "There are otherpeople waiting to welcome you."
Seizing Godfrey by the arm, he hurried him out into the street to a cabwhich was waiting there. Ten minutes later he was locked in his mother'sarms.
"O Godfrey," said Molly, as he embraced her in her turn, "I knew thatGod would send you back to me!"
* * * * *
A week later Godfrey and Molly were married by special license, and leftEngland the same day for the South of France. They are now back again atthe Hall, and as happy as two young people could well expect to be. Theclouds that shadowed their lives at one time are now completelydispersed, but, if Godfrey lives to be a hundred, he will never forgetthe agony he suffered in connection with what the newspapers called "TheMystery of the Clasped Hands."
THE END