The 12.30 from Croydon (32 page)

‘The second piece of secret business done during that visit to London was more sinister. I shall prove that on that day, the morning of the accused’s return from Town, he went into a certain chemist’s shop in a street near Waterloo Station, and there, under a false name and on the excuse of wanting to destroy a wasps’ nest, he purchased an ounce of potassium cyanide, the poison from which Andrew Crowther died.’

At this statement a little movement passed over the court, as if in involuntary recognition of its significance. The speech was having its effect. With a dreadful eagerness Charles searched the faces of the jurors, wondering how it was impressing them. The foreman looked as if his mind was already made up. His expression said ‘Guilty!’ and Charles imagined that if he had had his way he would have stopped the case and given his verdict then and there. The weedy-looking man beside him looked doubtful; but then Charles could scarcely imagine him otherwise than doubtful on any question. The others appeared to think it a clear case. Even the expression of the two comfortable women had changed. They still looked sad, but to Charles it now seemed as if they avoided his eyes. The thin woman looked almost pleased. As Charles watched them his heart sank.

Sir Richard’s finely modulated voice continued to rise and fall musically as his speech dragged on and on. Charles gazed at him with horror. In his eyes the man’s very appearance had grown hateful and sinister. His face was so implacable, so relentless, with his strongly marked features, his big nose, his square chin, his thin lips and his forceful expression. A dangerous man! And he was Charles’s enemy. He was fighting for nothing less than Charles’s life.

For a moment Charles was so carried away by this picture that he missed a few sentences. Then his attention swung back.

Sir Richard was now discussing Charles’s visit to The Moat on the 25th of August – the last visit of the three.

‘Now why, let us ask ourselves, did the accused pay that visit to The Moat? As I have said, I shall prove that the accused bought potassium cyanide in London on the 23rd of August. I shall prove also that the deceased died later from taking a pill containing potassium cyanide. I shall prove that this visit to The Moat was the only occasion on which the prisoner saw the deceased between these two months. Therefore, if the accused
did
put the poison into the deceased’s bottle, it must have been done on that occasion.

‘Let me again ask the question: why did the accused pay that visit? I shall prove that he had been there twice in the previous few days, so that it could scarcely have been a mere social call. Similarly, it could scarcely have been to borrow money: he had already done his utmost in that direction. I shall suggest that that visit was paid, and could only have been paid, with the object of putting the poisoned pill into the bottle. Whether this suggestion is the truth will be for you to say.

‘In this connexion I wish to call your attention to an important point about this visit. After dinner on that evening I shall prove that when the ladies withdrew the prisoner remained alone with the deceased. During that period when the two men were alone, a glass of wine was spilled on the tablecloth. Here again it will be for you, when you have heard the evidence, to say whether this was an accident, or whether it was done purposely by the accused to distract the deceased’s attention while he placed the deadly pill.’

Sir Richard then turned to the cruise. ‘An essential feature of the scheme which, it is submitted, the accused carried out was to provide himself with an alibi. When Andrew Crowther died the accused must be far away. As a matter of fact he was in Naples.’ Then followed a description of Charles’s booking of his ticket, of the cruise itself, of the radiogram received at Naples, and of Charles’s return to Cold Pickerby in time for the funeral.

‘Now,’ went on Sir Richard, ‘there are two points about the cruise to which I want to direct your special attention. The first is the relationship of two dates. I shall prove that the accused booked for his cruise on the morning of the 26th of August. And, members of the jury, it was on the night of the 25th, the previous evening, that he dined with his uncle and, it is submitted, changed the pills. It is submitted that he was waiting till the pills were changed before deciding to go, and that once this was done he took the first cruise which offered.

‘The second point is this. Evidence will be put before you that while the accused was on that cruise he was the whole time in a nervous and excited state; that his first care on returning from excursions was to ask for letters, and that his unease was very noticeable when radiograms were taken round the deck. A Mrs Shearman, a fellow-passenger, will tell you that she noticed his state of mind and commented on it, when the accused explained that he had not been well and had come away for a change. I shall suggest that this uneasiness cannot be explained otherwise than on the assumption that he was expecting news of his uncle’s death.

‘One other point, and I have done. When the tragedy took place fourteen of the accused’s pictures were under pledge in a dealer’s in London. There were, therefore, fourteen blanks on the walls of the accused’s house, and it is obvious these blanks were calculated to lead to questions which might reveal the true urgency of the accused’s financial straits. So great a danger must necessarily be avoided, and the accused endeavoured to avoid it. I shall prove…’ and Sir Richard went on to give full details of Charles’s loan of £5,000 from Messrs Spiller & Morgan.

This was the last point to be made by Sir Richard. With a few brief words of peroration he sat down, and his junior, Mr. Lionel Coppard, rose and called ‘Percival Crosby!’

Then for what seemed the first time since the proceedings opened, his lordship moved. ‘It’s so nearly time for lunch, Mr Coppard, that I think we’d better adjourn now. Two o’clock, please.’

A warder at once touched Charles on the arm and signed to him to follow down the stairs to the waiting cells below. As Charles turned he had the vision of the court rising, to stand respectfully while the judge passed out.

Charles felt utterly stunned at the strength of the case which had been urged against him. He had, of course, heard the evidence at the proceedings before magistrates, but somehow, as put by Sir Richard, the whole thing seemed worse than he could have imagined. For the first time the possibility of conviction became real to him. Quilter, however, when he came round to say a word or two of encouragement, seemed quite unmoved by the speech. ‘Wait till Heppenstall gets at them,’ was all he would say. Comforting so far as it went, but it went such a meagre distance!

Charles could not eat, in spite of the rough kindness of one of the warders, who adjured him to keep his pecker up, adding that the food would stand to him. But he felt he could drink the sea dry. He drank and then sat waiting numbly.

When the court reopened there was no delay in getting to business. Crosby was at once called, and Coppard rose to examine him.

Crosby, as might have been expected from his profession, was a good witness. He replied in a clear voice concisely but fully to the questions he was asked, but volunteered nothing. Coppard was very quiet and courteous with him.

After obtaining his position and qualifications, Coppard led his witness through the histories of the Crowther family and of the Electromotor Works. Crosby had been Andrew Crowther’s solicitor for many years, and he described what had taken place at his client’s retirement and the drawing up of his will. He, Crosby, knew of his own knowledge that the accused was aware of the provisions of the will and how they affected himself. When he had finished Charles’s motive had been established beyond possibility of question.

When Coppard sat down, Mr Everard Byng rose to cross-examine. He also was very polite and gentle with the witness. To Charles he did not seem to make much of his job. He appeared half-hearted, and Charles could not see that his questions led anywhere. He repeated a good many of the questions Mr Coppard had already asked, but he did get Crosby to say that all the other beneficiaries under the will, with the possible exception of Weatherup, had also known just what sum was coming to them. He also brought out that Crosby and Peter had dined at The Moat on the evening before Andrew’s death, and had discussed Peter’s application for financial assistance and the possible taking up of a mortgage on Otterton Farm.

‘Now, Mr Crosby, on that evening did you have any confidential talk with the deceased?’

‘No.’

‘Do you mean to say that you were not alone with him even for a single minute all the time that you were there?’

‘That’s what I mean. I was not alone with him.’

‘Very well. Now, so far as you know, had Mr Peter Morley any opportunity for a confidential chat with the deceased?’

For the first time Crosby hesitated. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said presently. ‘I—’

Byng interrupted more sharply than he had yet spoken. ‘Did you at any time during the evening leave the room and leave them together?’

Coppard was on his feet. ‘I submit, m’lud, that this is quite irrelevant.’

‘It’s not irrelevant,’ Byng retorted swiftly to his colleague. Then he turned to his lordship. ‘I wish to learn whether on this last evening of his life the deceased had an opportunity of making any confidential remarks indicative of suspicion or otherwise.’

There was a short argument, the judge finally allowing the question.

‘Now, Mr Crosby,’ went on Byng with righteous indignation in his voice, as if at a base attempt to defeat justice, now happily overcome, ‘will you answer my question: did you at any time during the evening leave the room and leave them together?’

‘Well, yes, I did,’ Crosby answered, ‘but only for two or three minutes. After dinner I left them in the dining-room while I went into the hall to get some papers out of my overcoat pocket.’

Byng continued asking what Charles thought were entirely pointless questions, and he did it without any appearance of conviction or interest. Presently he gave up even this effort, and sat down.

It disappointed Charles bitterly. All this talk had led nowhere. If his counsel didn’t do better than this, he was lost indeed.

Peter was the next witness. He was examined by Sir Richard himself. First the whole circumstances of the journey to France were brought out, and the details of Andrew Crowther’s death, including the fact that Peter as well as Weatherup had seen Andrew take his pill after lunch. Then Sir Richard became more personal. Peter repeated a good deal of what Crosby had already stated. He, Peter, also was in financial difficulties, and he had discussed those difficulties with the prisoner. His wife and the prisoner were the principal beneficiaries under the late Andrew Crowther’s will, and he knew it and he believed the prisoner knew it also. He confirmed generally Crosby’s evidence as to the state and history of the family, and the history of the works. In fact, he had little to say that was interesting and nothing that was new.

Nor was his cross-examination by Mr Everard Byng productive of anything of the slightest importance. Byng scarcely mentioned the journey. He also became personal. Asked the direct question, Peter admitted that he himself would have been ruined if no money had been forthcoming. He admitted further that his father-in-law had been unwilling to assist him, on the quite mistaken grounds that his difficulties were due to his not having worked sufficiently hard on his farm. Just, however, when he appeared to be about to get something of value, Byng threw up the sponge. He sat down, leaving Charles quivering with bitter fury. Charles wrathfully told himself he had paid these men their huge fees to do some work for him, not to slack about like that. So far the defence had done nothing. Charles had never felt so utterly helpless, and so alone and so up against it in his whole life.

James Bradley, the attendant on the
Hengist,
was then called to describe the flight from Croydon to Beauvais and the lunch on the plane. Deceased had eaten of each course and also had coffee, and witness had cleared away the used plates and cup. Affidavits from the French doctor and police were also put in. Inspector Appleby described the bringing home of the remains, the handing over of the pills to Mr Grant, and the finding of Charles’s secret ledger. He read Charles’s original statement to himself at the beginning of the inquiry, produced the secret ledger and was taken through it figure by figure, and dealt with a number of other matters of a technical and routine character. Nothing of importance was obtained from the cross-examination.

Wilfred Witheroe was the next witness. He deposed that he was manager of the Cold Pickerby branch of the Northern Counties Bank. He gave details of the gradual change in Charles’s finances from prosperity to debt. He told of Charles’s overdraft, of his application for the loan of another thousand (which he admitted would have been refused if pressed), and his paying in the deceased’s cheque for £1,000.

This time Lucius Heppenstall himself rose to cross-examine, and Charles at once became more eager. Surely something helpful should be brought out now?

But Heppenstall displayed the same easy-going half-heartedness that his junior had shown. He got nothing helpful. He didn’t even seem to try. He got Witheroe to admit that Charles had afterwards told him his uncle was helping him, and that he didn’t therefore need the additional overdraft, but that was all.

When this farce, as Charles called it in his now almost despairing mind, was over, Bostock stepped into the witness-box. His evidence was short. He described Charles’s application to him for a loan of a thousand and his own regret that he was obliged to refuse it. To Byng he admitted that Charles had afterwards told him he no longer wanted the accommodation, owing to help which was being given him by his uncle.

The next witness sent Charles’s heart racing with sheer misery. Una Mellor stepped into the box. Charles had not seen her in court, so her appearance was a double shock. She was very pale, but otherwise looked but slightly discomposed. Charles knew that no matter what the outcome of the trial might be, he had lost her irrevocably.