Prince of Secrets (19 page)

‘I put it to you, sir,' Sir Darcy said at one point, ‘that no innocent man would be willing to destroy his name and reputation by signing a paper admitting that he had cheated at cards. The presence of your signature on such a paper must be read as a clear admission of guilt. How can you possible claim otherwise?'

Sir Ratcliffe put on his noble expression again, sighed, looked first at the judge and then at his interrogator. ‘In normal circumstances, sir, I would be compelled to agree with you. But consider, I am an officer and a gentleman dedicated to serving my Queen and my country. It was a duty laid upon me to sign that paper if by so doing I was saving my Prince from future scandal. As I would lay down my life for my country, so I was compelled to offer up my reputation—given that the Prince and the co-defendants agreed that if I did so, the matter would remain private.'

‘But, it didn't, couldn't remain private, Sir Ratcliffe, could it? And since you—and no one else—have been responsible for bringing this action before the public—then the Prince has not been saved from scandal. So much for your protestations of loyalty. How do you answer that?'

‘Because those men, sitting over there, broke their solemn promise that the matter would not be made public. I consider
that since they acted dishonourably in this matter, then I was absolved from any promises which I had made.'

He turned to address the judge directly. ‘I am sure that you appreciate my motives in this matter, m'lud…'

The judge sighed. ‘It is defendant's counsel who is questioning you, sir. Address your answers to him, not to me.'

Oh, there was no doubt that the line which Sir Ratcliffe was following was a cunning one, since it presented him in a sympathetic light. He continued to repeat that he was prepared to sacrifice his private reputation in order to save the Prince—but wasn't prepared to become a public pariah as the consequence of his nobility.

Cobie knew, as did many, that there was a strong Republican sentiment abroad in the country, and that the kind of small businessman and shopkeeper who made up the bulk of the jury were the backbone of the movement. The whole of high society knew that Sir Ratcliffe was guilty, but they weren't sitting in the jury box. Those who were, were not sympathetic towards the Prince and his cronies—as at one point Sir Halbert had named the defendants.

Sir Darcy sighed, picked up a piece of paper, stared at it, and then addressed Sir Ratcliffe again.

‘You claimed, sir, that since the value of the counters which you were using was so relatively small you had no incentive to cheat since what you would be gaining financially would not be worth the risk you were taking. I do not misrepresent you, I trust?'

‘No, indeed. That is what I said.'

‘Suppose I put it to you, that, in fact, your financial position is much weaker than is commonly thought, that you have many debts, and that your credit is exhausted, would you not agree that that might put a different complexion on matters?'

‘Even if it were true, which it is not, that I was in financial
difficulties, then the ridiculously small sum which I stood to gain when playing at Markendale, would give me no incentive to cheat—rather the contrary…'

Sir Darcy sighed melodramatically, ‘A simple yes or no was all I asked for, Sir Ratcliffe.'

‘A correct answer needed more than that, sir.'

‘So, you claim that you are not in financial difficulties. My understanding is that you lost a small fortune in dabbling in South American securities of a dubious nature, compounded by an ill-thought venture in Venezuelan copper—and your own proclivity for gambling in clubs where the stakes are considerably higher than they were at Markendale. Would you care to revise your answer in the light of this?'

Sir Ratcliffe refused to be ruffled. ‘No, indeed. What you say about my South American losses is true, I admit it, but set against the wealth of the estate which I inherited, is as nothing. And the gambling of which you speak was nothing—exaggerated by gossip.'

‘So you say.'

Sir Darcy turned over papers again, and regretfully decided that to continue to badger Sir Ratcliffe would antagonise the jury even more, and announced that his questioning was at an end.

On balance, Sir Ratcliffe had won that round too, and now everyone in the Court leaned forward, for Sir Halbert had said that his next witness would be the Prince of Wales himself. Albert Edward responded to his name and walked forward, to be bowed to by Sir Halbert and to be questioned deferentially but keenly. The excitement in the court and in the representatives of the Press who were present was extreme.

The ladies' opera glasses flashed again. Violet whispered
to Dinah, ‘Poor old Tum Tum, He never thought that his bit of fun at Markendale would land him in court, did he?'

Dinah said, ‘I don't suppose it will trouble him much, do you?'

She was watching her husband, although she owned to herself that there was nothing to see. He had looked in her direction once or twice, but otherwise she had merely had a view of his superbly fashionable hair cut.

It was true that the Prince appeared supremely in control of himself. From the top of his balding head to the tips of his gleaming shoes, he was very much the man and the Prince. He answered Sir Halbert's questions in his pleasant guttural voice, and showed no signs that he was annoyed by being treated as lesser mortals were. Yes, a group of men led by his host, Lord Kenilworth, had come to him with the news that Sir Ratcliffe Heneage was cheating at the baccarat tables. The accusation was quite categorical.

‘Who exactly was responsible for the accusation?'

The Prince considered, then looked at the judge, who motioned that he was to reply. ‘I understand that all the defendants had witnessed Sir Ratcliffe's manipulation of his counters to his own advantage.'

‘And was there no one person whose evidence was considered to be most telling?'

‘I repeat, I understood that all of them had seen Sir Ratcliffe cheating.' It was plain that the Prince was not going to single out any particular accuser however much Sir Ratcliffe and his counsel might wish him to do so.

No, he had not seen Sir Ratcliffe cheat himself, he was too busy acting as banker on the other table. No, he had no reason to believe other than that Kenilworth and his co-defendants were telling the truth.

Yes, given the apparently overwhelming evidence that a man he had known for many years had been misbehaving,
he had agreed to the suggestion that to avoid open scandal Sir Ratcliffe would be asked to sign a private paper admitting his guilt, and promising not to play cards again.

Yes, he thought that the matter had ended there.

All in all, Cobie was impressed. Sir Darcy, equally deferential, but equally penetrating, rose to cross-examine the Prince. His main question was why he had agreed to a solution which kept the matter private.

‘It was my wish that leniency and mercy should be shown.'

The whole court buzzed and stirred as a member of the jury raised his hand to ask that he might put a question to the witness.

Order was called for, and at last the uproar died down.

‘I merely wish to ask the witness whether at the time he thought that the charges against Sir Ratcliffe were true.'

Again there was uproar. The Prince remained calm. He looked at the judge, who directed him to answer.

‘Given that the evidence offered was unanimous, then, I repeat, I had to believe those who offered it—there was no other course open to me.'

If that doesn't spike Sir Ratcliffe's guns, nothing will, Cobie thought, but later he realised that those who wished to believe that the Prince had behaved shamefully towards ‘the noble baronet' were not so easily convinced.

Finally it was over, and the Prince stepped down. For the time being the fireworks had ended. The next witnesses were all, so far as Press and the general public were concerned, nonentities who were willing to testify that it was impossible that Sir Ratcliffe would ever cheat at cards. They all attempted to put the blame on the American, Mr Grant, and were constantly reprimanded for introducing hearsay evidence.

Again and again every eye, and all the opera glasses were
turned on the handsome American whose name was already filling the evening papers because of his financial exploits.

‘They all visit the same brothels and have the same tastes as Heneage,' whispered Kenilworth in Cobie's ear. ‘Think what scandal would be caused if the right questions were asked, instead of the wrong ones!'

It was now the turn of the defendants to present their case. Kenilworth was to go first. The ladies' opera glasses immediately came into play again, but there was little to be excited about since all that happened was that the same sad facts were rehearsed all over again.

Except, that late in the afternoon, Kenilworth, on being cross-examined by Sir Halbert, was asked, ‘You, m'lord, being so eagle-eyed as to see your friend and parliamentary colleague, Sir Ratcliffe, moving his counters in order to win more money, or lose less, will surely be able to tell us the value of the cards on which this supposed trick was performed?'

Kenilworth stood there silent and shaken. He had seen Sir Ratcliffe moving his counters, but at this distance in time he had not the slightest notion of the value of the cards on which the sleight of hand had been performed.

Sir Halbert saw his hesitation and leapt for the kill. ‘No, m'lord? You cannot remember? And it is on this flimsy evidence, your faulty memory, that you are prepared to destroy a man's reputation, his social position and his parliamentary career?'

Kenilworth said desperately. ‘I cannot remember the cards, but I know that I saw Sir Ratcliffe move his counters to increase his bet after his card was seen to become a winning one…'

‘Oh, indeed, Lord Kenilworth. You ask me to believe that on the one hand you cannot remember the cards on which this supposed trick was performed, but on the other hand—
because it damages Sir Ratcliffe—you are able to remember him moving his counters. If you cannot remember the one fact, why should we believe that you can remember the other?'

Goaded, aware that he was letting the side down, Lord Kenilworth, who had never before been submitted to such ruthless questioning in his whole life, said, ‘I know what I saw—and what others saw.'

Sir Halbert pounced again. ‘What others saw. Does that mean that you were not sure of what you saw, or that others
persuaded
you of what they saw?'

Lord Kenilworth looked at the judge and then at Sir Darcy for salvation—and found none. He said doggedly and unluckily, ‘I know perfectly well what I saw, and the clinching evidence was that of one of my friends who could remember the value of the cards which were the subject of Sir Ratcliffe's cheating.'

‘One of your friends, Lord Kenilworth. Not you, but one of your friends saw the plaintiff cheating…'

Lord Kenilworth interrupted counsel, saying desperately, ‘Of course, I saw him cheating, but…'

Sir Halbert said, all greasy charm, ‘But…if you will allow me to finish, Lord Kenilworth…one of your friends convinced you.'

He paused, smiling, then said savagely, ‘Which friend was that, Lord Kenilworth?'

The unfortunate peer closed his eyes, and said stiffly, ‘My friend, and co-defendant, Mr Jacobus Grant, whose memory is excellent, and who could remember which cards were involved in the plaintiff's cheating.'

Kenilworth knew at once that he had done a foolish thing. Before the trial it had been agreed that all of the defendants would accept equal responsibility, none to be revealed to be more prominent in the accusation than any other.

Walker, who had slipped into the court shortly before the day was due to end, chuckled to himself. ‘Mr Dilley at his magic tricks again,' being his sardonic verdict.

Sir Halbert pounced on Kenilworth's reluctant admission. ‘So, if there was a ring-leader among you, then that man was Mr Grant, the American citizen.'

The judge intervened. ‘I fail to see the point you are making, Sir Halbert.'

‘Oh, m'lud, we seek to prove malice in the bringing of this accusation. I am arguing that none of the defendants had clean hands in this matter, as I shall prove.'

Goaded again, and trying to mend matters, Kenilworth made them worse.

‘You are mistaken, sir. The prime mover in this matter was not Mr Jacobus Grant as you appear to believe, but Mr Walter Ffolliot.'

He knew as soon as he had spoken that he had made another gross error of judgement provoked by tiredness and having been three hours in the witness box, enduring the kind of gruelling questioning such as persons of his Lordship's station were rarely subjected to.

Sir Halbert pounced on him again like a terrier grabbing a rat by the throat, ‘What's this, Lord Kenilworth? Here is a name we have not heard before. I see four defendants listed, but no Mr Walter Ffolliott. What was Mr Ffolliot's role in this, Lord Kenilworth? I ask you to remember that you are on oath.'

Lord Kenilworth, flushed and looking uncomfortable, muttered, ‘It was Mr Walter Ffolliott who first raised with me the possibility that Sir Ratcliffe Heneage was cheating.'

Sir Halbert rolled his eyes to heaven dramatically, folded his arms over his chest, turned away, and then turned back to pounce on Lord Kenilworth again.

‘Then why is this the first we have heard of his name?
M'lud, in the light of what Lord Kenilworth has just said, I ask that Mr Walter Ffolliot be subpoenaed so that he may be questioned as to his role in this dubious affair.'

The spectators had grown languid, but these revelations woke them all up. Every eye had been turned speculatively on Cobie—but the sudden emergence into prominence of Walter Ffolliot had everyone whispering to their neighbour until the usher called for silence in court.

Violet and Dinah were both wishing the whole affair done with, and that they would soon be free to go home and forget Sir Ratcliffe Heneage and all his works. But at this astonishing turn-up, as society was to dub it, Violet sat up and took notice.