CHAPTER XX
AT THE INQUEST
Thursday dawned in a blaze of sunshine, and after the bleak promise ofthe day before the sky was a clear, sapphire-blue.
"What a day! And what a mission to waste it on!" sighed Cleek nextmorning, as he finished breakfast and took a turn to the front door,smoking his cigarette. "Here's murder at the very door of this ill-fatedplace. And we've got to see the thing out!"
He spun upon his heel and went back again into the gloomy hall, as thoughthe sight of the sunshine sickened him. His thoughts were with Merriton,shut away there in the village prison to await this day of reckoning,with, if the word should go against him, a still further day of reckoningahead. A day when the cleverest brains of the law schools would bearrayed against him, and he would have to go through the awful tragedyof a trial in open court. What was a mere coroner's jury to thatpossibility?
Then too, perhaps in spite of evidence, they might let the boy off. Therewas a chance in that matter of the I.O.U., which he himself had found inthe pocket of the dead man, and which was signed in the name of LesterStark. Stark was due at the inquest to-day, to give his side of theaffair. There was a possible loophole of escape. Would Nigel be ableto get through it? That was the question.
The inquest was set for two o'clock. From eleven onward the great housebegan to fill with expectant and curious visitors. Reporters from localpapers, and one or two who represented the London press, turned up, theirpress-cards as tickets of admittance. Petrie was stationed at the door towaylay casual strangers, but any who offered possible light upon thematter, eye-witnesses or otherwise, were allowed to enter. It wasastonishing how many people there were who confessed to having "seenthings" connected with the whole distressing affair. By one o'clockalmost everyone was in place. At a quarter past, 'Toinette Brellierarrived, dressed in black and with a heavy veil shrouding her pallor. Shewas accompanied by her uncle.
Cleek met them in the hall. Upon sight of him 'Toinette ran up and caughthim by the arm.
"You are Mr. Headland, are you not?" she stated rather than asked, hervoice full of agitation, her whole figure trembling. "My name isBrellier, Antoinette Brellier. You have heard of me from Nigel, Mr.Headland. I am--engaged to be married to him. This is my uncle, with whomI live. Mr. Headland--Mr. Brellier."
She made the introduction in a distrait manner, and the two men bowed.
"I am pleased to meet you, sir," said Brellier, in his stilted English,"but I could wish it were under happier circumstances."
"And I," murmured Cleek, taking in the trim contour and the keen eyes ofthis man who was to have been Merriton's father-in-law--if things hadturned out differently. He found he rather liked his looks.
"There is nothing--one can do?" Brellier's voice was politely anxious,and he spread out his hands in true French fashion then tugged at hisclosely clipped iron-gray beard.
"Anything that you know, Mr. Brellier, that would perhaps be of help, youcan say--in the witness box. We are looking for people who know anythingof the whole distressing tragedy. You can help that way, and that wayalone. For myself," he shrugged his shoulders, "I don't for an instantbelieve Sir Nigel to be guilty. I can't, somehow. And yet--if you knewthe evidence against him--!"
A sob came suddenly from 'Toinette, and Brellier gently led her away. Itwas a terrible ordeal for her, but she had insisted on coming--fearing,hoping that she might be of use to Nigel in the witness box. By the timethey reached the great, crowded room, with its table set at the far end,its empty chairs, and the platform upon which the two bodies lay shroudedin their black coverings, she was crying, though plainly struggling forself possession.
Brellier found her a chair at the farther side of the room, and stoodbeside her, while near by Cleek saw the figure of Borkins, clad inordinary clothes. He tipped one respectful finger as Brellier passed him,and greeted him with a half-smile, as one of whom he thoroughly approved.
Then there was a little murmur of expectancy, as the group about thedoorway parted to admit the prisoner.
He came between two policemen, very pale, very haggard, greatly aged bythe few days of his ordeal. There were lines about his mouth and eyesthat were not good to see. He was thinner, older. Already the gray showedin the hair about his temples. He walked stiffly, looking neither toright nor left, his head up, his hands handcuffed before him; calm,dignified, a trifle grimly amused at the whole affair--though what thisattitude cost him to keep up no one ever knew.
'Toinette uttered a cry at sight of him, and then shut her handkerchiefagainst her mouth. His face quivered as he recognized her voice, then,looking across the crowded room, he saw her--and smiled....
The jury filed in one after the other, twelve stout, hardy specimens ofthe country tradesman, with a local doctor and a farmer or two sprinkledamong the lump to leaven it. The coroner followed, having driven up inthe latest thing in motor cars (for he was going to do the thingproperly, as it was at the country's expense). Then the horribleproceedings began.
After the preliminaries, which followed the usual custom (for the coronerseemed singularly devoid of originality) the bodies were uncovered, anda murmur of excited expectancy ran through the crowd. With morbidcuriosity they pressed forward. The reporters started to scribble intheir note-books, a little pale and perturbed, for all their experienceof such affairs. One or two of the crowd gasped, and then shut theireyes. Brellier exclaimed aloud in French, and for a moment covered hisface with his hands; but 'Toinette made no murmur. For she had notlooked, _would_ not look upon the grim terrors that lay there. Therewas no need for _that_.
The coroner spoke, attacking the matter in a business-like fashion, andleaning down from his slightly elevated position upon the platform,pointed a finger at the singed and blackened puncture upon the temple ofthe thing that was once Dacre Wynne. He pointed also to the wound in thehead of Collins.
"It is apparent to all present," he began in his flat voice, "that deathhas been caused in each case by a shot in the head. That the two men werekilled similarly is something in the nature of a coincidence. Therevolver that killed them was not the same in both cases. In that of Mr.Wynne we have a bullet wound of an extremely small calibre. We have,indeed, the actual bullet. We also have, so we think, the revolver thatfired the shot. In the case of James Collins there has been no proofand no evidence of any one whom we know being concerned. Therefore wewill take the case of the man Dacre Wynne first. He was killed by arevolver-shot in the temple, and death was--or should havebeen--instantaneous. We will call the prisoner to speak first."
He lifted a revolver from the table and held it in the hollow of his bigpalm.
"This revolver is yours?" he said, peering up under his shaggy eyebrowsinto Merriton's face.
"It is."
"Very good. There has been, as you see, one shot fired from it. Of thesix chambers one is empty." He reached down and picked up a smallsomething and held it in the hollow of the other hand, balancing oneagainst the other as he talked. "Sir Nigel, I ask you. This we recognizeas a bullet which belongs to this same revolver, the revolver which youhave recognized and claimed as your own. It is identical with those thatare used in the cartridges of your revolver, is it not?"
Merriton bent his head. His eyes had a dumb, hurt look, but over thecrowded room his voice sounded firm and steady.
"It is."
"Then I take it that, as this bullet was extracted from the head of thedead man, and as this revolver which you gave to the police yourself, andfrom which you say that you fired a shot that night, that you are guiltyof his murder. Is it not so?"
"I am not guilty."
"H'm." For a moment there was silence. Over the room came the sound ofscratching pencils and pens, the shuffle of someone's foot, a swiftintake of the breath--no more. Then the coroner spoke again.
"Tell us, then," he said, "your version of what took place that night."
And Merriton told it, told it with a ring in his voice, his head high,and with eyes that flashed and shone with the
cause he was pleading. Toldit with fire and spirit; and even as the words fell from his lips, feltthe sudden chill of disbelief that seemed to grip the room in its coldhand. Not a sound broke the recital. He had been given a fair hearing, atall events, though in that community of hard-headed, unimaginative menthere was not one that believed him--save those few who already knew thestory to be true.
The coroner stopped fitting his fingers together as the firm voicefaltered and was finally silent, and shot a glance at Merriton from underhis shaggy brows.
"And you expect us to believe that story, Sir Nigel; knowing what we doabout the bad blood between you and the dead man, and having here theevidence of our own eyes in this revolver bullet?"
"I have told the truth. I can do no more."
"No man can," responded the coroner, gravely, "but it is that which Imust admit I query. The story is so far-fetched, so utterly impossiblefor a rationally minded being--"
"But you must admit that he was not a rationally minded being thatnight!" broke in a quick voice from across the room, and everyone turnedto look into Doctor Bartholomew's seamed, anxious face. "Under theinfluence of drink and that devil incarnate, Dacre Wynne, a man couldn'tbe answerable for--"
"Silence in the Court!" rapped out the coroner, and the good doctor wasforced to obey.
Then the inquiry went on. The prisoner was told to stand down, amid achorus of protesting voices, for, though the story was disbelieved,everyone who had come in contact with Merriton had formed an instantliking for him. No one wished to see him condemned as guilty--save thosefew who seemed determined to send him to the gallows.
Three or four possible witnesses were called, but nothing of anyimportance was gleaned from them; then Borkins was summoned to the table.As he pushed past 'Toinette's chair from the knot of villagers whichsurrounded him, his face was white, and his lips compressed. He took hisstand in front of the jury and prepared to answer the questions whichwere put to him by the coroner. That man's method seemed to have changedsince his questioning of Sir Nigel and he flung out his queries like arapid-fire gun.
Borkins came through the ordeal fairly well, all things considered.He told his story of what he had said he had seen that night, in acomparatively steady voice, though he was of the type that is addictedto nervousness when appearing before people.
Cleek, at the back of the court, with Mr. Narkom on his right and Dollopson his left, waited for that one weak spot in the evidence, and saw witha smile how the coroner lit upon it. His opinion of that worthy went upconsiderably.
"You say you heard the man Wynne groaning and moaning on the gardenpathway after he was shot, and then practically saw him die?"
"I did, sir."
"And yet, a man killed in that fashion, hit in that particular portion ofthe temple, always dies instantaneously. Isn't that rather strange?"
Borkins went red.
"I have nothing to say, sir. Simply what I heard."
"H'm. Well, certainly the evidence does dovetail in, and the doctors mayhave been wrong in this instance. We can look into that evidence later.Stand down."
Borkins stood down with something like a sigh of relief, and pushed hisway back into his place, his friends nodding to him and congratulatinghim upon the way he had given his evidence.
Then Tony West was called, and told all that he had to tell of hisknowledge of the night's happenings in a rather irritated manner, asthough the whole thing bored him utterly, and he couldn't for the lifeof him make out why any one even dreamed that old Nigel had murdered aman. He told the coroner something of this before he finished, and as hereturned to his place a murmur of approval went up. His manner had takenthe public fancy, and they would have liked to hear more of him.
But there was another piece of evidence to be shown, and this took theform of a scrap of creased white paper.
It was waved aloft in the coroner's hand, so that everyone could see it.
"This," said the coroner, "is an I.O.U. found upon the dead man, for twothousand pounds, and signed with the name of Lester Stark. An importantpiece of evidence, this. Will Mr. Stark kindly come forward?"
There was a rustle at the back of the court, and Stark pushed his way tothe front, his face rather red, his eyes a trifle shamefaced. As hecame, Merriton was conscious of a quickening of his pulse, of a leap ofhis heart, though he loathed himself afterward for the sensation. Hiseyes went toward 'Toinette, and he saw that she was looking at him, withall the love that was in her soul laid bare for him--and all--to see. Itcheered him, as she meant it should.
Then Stark took his place upon the witness stand.
"This I.O.U. belongs to you, I take it?" said the coroner, briskly.
"It does, sir."
"And it was made out two days before the prisoner met his death. Thesignature is yours?"
Stark bowed. His eyes sought Nigel's and rested upon the pale, lined facewith every appearance of concern. Then he looked back at the coroner.
"Dacre Wynne lent me that money two days before he came down to visitMerriton. No one knew of it, except he and I. We had never been goodfriends--in fact, I believe he hated me. My mother had been--well, kindto him in the old days, and I suppose he hadn't forgotten it. Anyhow,there was family difficulty. My--my pater left some considerable debtswhich we found we were obliged to face. There was a woman--oh, I needn'tgo into these family things, in a place like this, need I?... Well, if Imust--I must. But it's a loathsome job at best.... There was a woman whommy father--kept. When he died he left her two thousand pounds in hiswill, and he hadn't two thousand pounds to leave when his debts werecleared up. We--we had to face things. Paid everything off, and all that,and then, at the last gasp, that woman came and claimed the money. Thelawyer said she was within her rights, we'd have to fork out. And Icouldn't lay my hands upon the amount just then, because it had takenpretty nearly all we had to clear the debts off."
"So you borrowed from Mr. Wynne?"
"Yes, I borrowed from Dacre Wynne. I'd sooner have cut my right hand offthan have done it, but I knew Merriton was going to be married, and Iwouldn't saddle him with my bills. Don't look at me like that, Nigel, oldchap, you know I _couldn't_! Tony West has only enough for himself, and Ididn't want to go to loan sharks. So the mater suggested Dacre Wynne. Iwent to him, in her name, and ate the dust. It was beastly--but hepromised to stump up. And he did. I'm working now on a paper, to tryand pay as much off as I can, and--a cousin is keeping the mater untilI can look after her myself. We've taken a little place out Chelsea way.That's all."
"H'm. And you can show proof of this, if the jury requires it?" put inthe coroner, at this juncture.
"I can--here and now." He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew outa sheaf of papers, tossing them in front of the coroner, who, aftera glance at their contents, seemed to be satisfied that they gave theanswer he sought.
"Thank you.... And you have no revolver, Mr. Stark, even if you hadreason for killing Mr. Wynne?"
Stark gave a little start of surprise.
"Reason for _killing_ him? You're not trying to intimate that _I_ killedhim, are you? Of all the idiotic things! No, I have no revolver, Mr.Coroner. And I've nothing more to say."
"Then stand down," said the coroner, and Lester Stark threaded his wayback to the chair he had occupied during the proceedings, rather red inthe face, and with blazing eyes and tightly set lips.
A stream of other witnesses came and gave their stories. Brellier told ofhow he had been rung up by Merriton to ask if there were any news ofWynne's arrival at the house. Told, in fact, all that he admitted to knowof the night's affair, and ended up his evidence with the remark that"nothing on earth or in heaven would make him believe that Sir NigelMerriton was guilty of murder."
Things were narrowing down. There was a restlessness about the court;time was getting on and everything pointed one way. After some discussionwith the jury, the foreman of it, a stout, pretentious fellow, rose tohis feet and whispered a few hurried words to the coroner. That gentlemanwiped his f
orehead with a silk handkerchief and looked about him. It hadbeen a trying business altogether. He'd be glad of his supper. He got tohis feet and turned to the crowded room.
"Gentlemen," he said, "in all this evidence that has been placed beforeus I find not one loophole of escape for the prisoner, not one openingby which there might be a chance of passing any other verdict than thatwhich I am compelled to pass now; save only in the evidence of Borkins,who tells that the dead man groaned and moaned for a minute or two afterbeing shot. This, I must say, leaves me in some doubt as to the absoluteaccuracy of his story, but the main facts tally with what evidence wehave and point in one direction. There is only one revolver in question,and that revolver of a peculiar make and bore. I have shown you theinstrument here, also the bullet which was extracted from the dead man'sbrain. Is there no other person who would wish to give evidence, beforeI am compelled to pronounce the prisoner 'Guilty'--and leave him to thehands of higher Courts of Justice? If there is, I beg of you to speak,and speak at once. Time is short, gentlemen."
His voice ceased, and for a moment over the room there was silence. Youcould have heard a pin drop. Then came the scraping of a chair, aswiftly-muttered, "I will! I will! I have something to say!" in a woman'svoice shrill with emotion, and 'Toinette Brellier stood up, slim and tallin her black frock, and with the veil thrown back from her pale face. Sheheld something in her hand, something which she waved aloft for all tosee.
"I ... I have something to say, Mr. Coroner," she said in a clear, highvoice. "Something to show you, also. See!" She pushed her way through thecrowd that opened to admit her, gaping at her as she came rapidly to thecoroner's table and held out the object. It was a small-sized revolver,identical in every detail to that which lay upon the coroner's table."That," she said clearly, her voice rising higher and higher, as shelooked into Merriton's face for a single instant and smiled wanly, "that,Mr. Coroner, is a revolver identical with the one which you have there.It is the same make, the same bore--_everything_!"
"So it is!" For a moment the coroner lost his calm. He lifted an excitedface to meet her eyes, "Where did you get it, Miss Brellier?"
"From the top drawer of the secretaire in the little boudoir at WithersbyHall," she said calmly, "where it has always lain. You will find a shotmissing. Everything the same, Mr. Coroner; _everything_ the same!"
"It belongs to some member of your household, Miss Brellier?"
She took a step backward and drew a sharp breath. Then her eyes werefixed upon Merriton's face.
"It belongs to--_me_," she said.