Silence in Court (28 page)

The judge leaned forward and said,

“Mr. Vane—is this pertinent?”

Hugo Vane turned with the expression of a respectful schoolboy addressing the headmaster.

“I submit that it is, m'lud. I believe that this witness is able to throw an important light upon the relations between two of the witnesses for the Crown, and upon the evidence which they have given in this court.”

“Are you attacking the credit of these witnesses, Mr. Vane?”

“Yes, m'lud. I propose to prove that not only did an undisclosed and hitherto unsuspected relationship exist between two of the Crown's witnesses, but that they also had a very strong motive for desiring Mrs. Maquisten's death before she could sign a new will.”

A murmur ran through the court—sound without words, like the rustle among leaves.

“You may proceed, Mr. Vane.”

The judge sat back again. Hugo Vane turned to his witness.

“What reason did she give you for considering that Mr. Hood's conduct was a breach of trust?”

Miss Gwent again closed her eyes.

“She told me that Mrs. Maquisten had befriended Mr. Hood's mother—that she had given him his education and introduced him into Mr. Aylwin's office. She said that the whole affair had been kept a profound secret even from Mr. Aylwin, but she now felt that Mrs. Maquisten was being imposed upon, and that someone besides herself should know the facts.”

“Did Mrs. Gwent impart these facts to you?”

“Yes.”

“Did she acquaint you with Mr. Hood's parentage?”

“Yes.”

“What did she tell you?”

Miss Gwent paused, shut her eyes, took a long breath, and said,

“She told me that he was Ellen Bridling's son.”

All over the court people stirred, moved, rustled. As if in answer to her name, Ellen got to her feet and began to push her way along the row in the direction of the door through which she had come in. Ernest Hood sat where he was, his pale face glistening, his eyes half hidden by the drooping lids. In that moment a likeness to Ellen stood out plain.

Honor King gripped Nora by the arm and sat up straight. Her eyes looked wildly round, and on a gasping breath she could be heard to say,

“Oh, no—no—no—no—
no!
”

To Carey in the dock it seemed as if everything had stopped. Ellen and Ernest Hood—mother and son! Not strangers with no possible common motive for accusing her, but so intimately linked that Honor's fifty thousand pounds must be of equal interest to them both. Every avenue of thought was blocked by this one tremendous fact. Afterwards she knew that a birth certificate was put in as evidence, but at the time she did not know what was happening around her. It was not faintness but withdrawal. The outside things went by.

When she came back to them again, Hugo Vane was addressing the jury.

CHAPTER FORTY

Carey did not really take it in. She listened to the words, but most of the time she didn't really take them in. The terrible tension and strain of all these endless weeks had suddenly begun to relax. She felt a loosening and a slackening of her whole being. She hadn't to hold on any more—she could let go. Phrases, sentences, whole passages, passed into her consciousness and floated there a little vaguely.

“I submit that the Crown has completely failed to make out any case at all against Miss Silence. If you believe the evidence just given by Miss Gwent, an entirely disinterested witness, it will be plain to you that the person who was to be cut out of Mrs. Maquisten's will was not Carey Silence but Honor King. Then what happens to the two witnesses who stood in this box only a day or two ago and were so positive that Mrs. Maquisten had indicated Carey Silence as the person who had deceived her, and whom she intended to disinherit? After hearing Miss Gwent's evidence, do you think that Ellen Bridling and Ernest Hood were honestly mistaken, or does it appear that they had a motive—may I go so far as to say a very strong motive—for putting this construction upon Mrs. Maquisten's words, or even perhaps for putting words into her mouth? You will use your own judgment about this, but you will remember that the Crown has relied upon their evidence to prove that Carey Silence had a motive for wishing Mrs. Maquisten dead. But if you believe Miss Gwent—and I do not see how you can disbelieve her—it was not Carey Silence who had this motive at all. I do not accuse Miss King, but it was she who was to be cut out of Mrs. Maquisten's will, and it is Ernest Hood, the man who was making love to her behind her aunt's back, and Ernest Hood's unacknowledged mother Ellen Bridling, who stood here to accuse Miss Silence. It will at once be evident to you that these two persons had the strongest possible motive for preserving Honor King's inheritance. It is not for me to suggest what may have taken place at the interview between Mrs. Maquisten and Ernest Hood. You will remember, however, that she had just-received a letter in which her old friend Mrs. Gwent informed her of the relations between Hood and her niece, Miss King. Recollecting all she had done for him, is it too much to suppose that she threw his betrayal in his face and informed him of her intention to make a new will under which Miss King would not receive a penny? It is at least significant that it was during the time occupied by this interview that she secured herself against an eavesdropper by sending Nurse Brayle out of the house. What happened after this is a matter of conjecture, but one cannot help remembering that Ellen Bridling's room was only the width of the passage away from the one in which this interview was taking place. It is possible that there was an eavesdropper after all. A number of witnesses have described Mrs. Maquisten's voice as loud and strong. It is not for me to say whether the mother and son met when the interview was over. It is, however, significant that Ellen Bridling's first admitted contact with her mistress should not have taken place until after seven o'clock. There would therefore have been plenty of time for them to have met. But that is not my affair. What it is my duty to lay before you is just this—and you will of course have seen it for yourselves—since it was not Carey Silence who had deceived Mrs. Maquisten, and since it was not Carey Silence who was about to be disinherited, she had no possible motive for contriving the death of a kind and affectionate relative, and the whole case for the Crown collapses.…”

In the withdrawn places of her mind Carey had an odd childish picture of a house of cards coming fluttering down—kings and queens with their crowns—knaves like policemen with truncheons—diamonds, clubs, hearts, and spades.… Presently Hugo Vane's voice came through again—talking about Honor King coming into the bedroom just before Cousin Honoria asked for and took the sleeping-draught—

“Here is one of the Crown witnesses most truthfully testifying to Mrs. Maquisten's affectionate behaviour to the girl who you have been asked to believe was at that time the object of her particular resentment and anger. The prosecution's own witness had told you that Mrs. Maquisten was holding Miss Silence by the hand and looking at her with affection. You have heard Miss Silence's account of this scene. Does it not ring true? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, doesn't all her evidence ring true? She is a young girl, and she is not in very strong health. I won't attempt to work upon your sensibilities by reminding you that her health has been impaired by enemy action. I am sure that it is not necessary for me to do so. I only mention it in order to say this—Do you think it is possible that this fragile girl should have sustained the very able and searching cross-examination of my learned friend without contradicting herself or breaking down at any point if she had been relying on anything except her complete innocence and the simple honest truth?”

Something in Carey woke up. She thought, “Yes, that's true—I couldn't have stood up to him if I hadn't been telling the truth.”

He went on speaking, but not for very long. She heard him without taking hold of what he said.

She did not really listen to Sir Wilbury Fossett, who made one of the shortest speeches of his career. Afterward she gathered that he had contrived to say as little as possible. A profile, a voice, and a manner all in the grand style are useful properties. He used them to the full in what amounted to a strategic retirement, and resumed his seat with dignity.

The judge summed up, using words which were now so familiar that they were like an echo already many times repeated. In his balanced phrases the case went by again. In the end it came down to what Hugo Vane said—“If you believe the evidence of Miss Gwent, the motive alleged by the Crown does not exist.”

The horse-hair wig rising in formal waves above the puckered face, the red robes, the dry incisive voice, the words it used, were all part of the old majestic processes of the law which had brought Carey Silence here to stand trial, and was now giving her over to be weighed in a balance by the twelve tired people in the jury box.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you will now retire and consider your verdict.”

Carey heard that, and made ready to get to her feet. She would have to go down those steps, and presently she would have to come up them again. She wondered how long it would take the jury to say whether they thought she was guilty or not. Sometimes a jury was out for hours. She hoped that they would not be very long.

And then quite suddenly she saw that they were not going out. The foreman was on his feet, and he was addressing the judge.

“My lord, we do not need to retire. We are agreed upon our verdict. We find the prisoner not guilty.”

The wardress had taken Carey's arm and pulled her up. She stood there as white as linen, and saw the court and all the people crowded there as if she were looking at them through water. Everything swam, and wavered, and floated. The scarlet of the judge's robes was like a spreading stain. She heard him say,

“Is that the verdict of you all?”

But she never heard what the foreman said in reply, because a blackness came down between her and the crowded court.

The case was over.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

There was a whispering going on. She heard voices before she could distinguish the words. She opened her eyes for a moment and shut them again. Someone let go of her wrist and got up. A strange voice said, “It's all right—just let her lie still for a bit.” Then the other two voices began again, Nora's voice and Jeff's.

“After all, it's partly her own house—it was left between the four of us. And Den won't be there—he's going to his club. She'd much better come home—
really
.”

Jeff said, “I don't know—”

Carey opened her eyes. She was lying on the floor. Someone had taken her hat off and put a newspaper under her head. She could feel it rustle when she moved. Nora was sitting back on her heels on one side of her, all grey and furry like a kitten. Jeff was kneeling on the other side holding her left hand. She had the feeling that he was holding it so tight that it might be difficult ever to get it back. She said a little vaguely,

“Are you talking about me?”

Nora's face crinkled up as if she was going to cry. She caught Carey's other hand and squeezed it.

“You will come home with me, won't you? Anyhow it's partly your house. You don't want to go to a beastly hotel, do you? It would be
grim
.”

The floor was frightfully hard. Carey pulled on the hands that were holding hers and sat up. She felt a little swimmy but all right. She looked at Nora and said,

“Ellen—”

Nora's face screwed up again, but in a different way. The kitten might have been going to scratch or spit.

“I always knew she was a poison-toad, but not as bad as this. I don't know whether the police have arrested her or not, but they've got her, and as far as we are concerned they can keep her. She doesn't set foot in the house again. And—and Den is going to his club—you won't have to see him.”

“I don't mind seeing him,” said Carey.

Jeff Stewart let go of the hand he was holding. Nora pulled at the other one.

“Then you'll come home with me?”

It was Jeff who said quite bluntly, “What about Honor?”

He got a sort of lightning flash from Nora's very bright brown eyes.

“I tell you she didn't know a thing. She's a gump and a poor fish, but she didn't poison Aunt Honoria, or know that anyone else was going to. I think even the police will have the sense to see that, but they've taken her off to ask her a lot of questions. Mr. Aylwin's gone with her so that I could come to Carey. He said they might detain her, but he thought they'd probably let her come home. But if you think she'd try and do anything to Carey you're a worse gump than she is. It's just silly!”

“Is it?” His tone was dry.

“Yes, it is! Look here, Jeff, you can't take Carey to an hotel. She's got to come home to her family, or what's it going to look like? You've got to think about that. You can come too if you like—there's lots of room. And if Carey doesn't mind meeting Den, I think he'd better stay too, because this is where the family wants to look solid.”

If there was anyone in the world Jeff Stewart did not at that moment want to meet, it was Dennis Harland, but he was afflicted with a strong vein of common sense. After opening his mouth to say something quite different he felt himself constrained to observe,

“Well, I expect you're right.”

Nora produced two dimples and rather an attractive gurgle.

“I'm always right, darling.” Then, very briskly to Carey, “Mr. Vane and Mr. Mordaunt are waiting to see you, so I expect you'd better get up off the floor.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Carey went to bed in her old room and slept as if she would never wake again. It was afternoon, and late afternoon at that, before she came down and opened the study door. She had met no one on the stairs, but she made sure of finding somebody in the study. There was only one person there, and it was Dennis Harland. Carey stood with her hand on the door for a moment, then she came in and shut it behind her. After all, she had to meet Dennis sometime. She couldn't just go on remembering that the last thing he had said to her was “Why did you do it, Carey?”