The Whitechapel Conspiracy (4 page)

*   *   *

The following day Gleave began his defense. He had already done all he could to dismiss the evidence of Dr. Ibbs, of the various servants who had seen the tiny changes Pitt had spoken of, and of the man in the street who had observed someone roughly answering Adinett’s description going into the side gate of Fetters’s house. Now he called witnesses to the character of John Adinett. He had no shortage from which to choose, and he allowed the whole courtroom to know it. He paraded them one after another. They were drawn from many walks of life: social, military, political, even one from the church.

The last of them, the Honorable Lyall Birkett, was typical. He was slender, fair-haired, with an intelligent, aristocratic face and a quiet manner. Even before he spoke he impressed a certain authority upon his opinions. He had no doubt whatever that Adinett was innocent, a good man caught in a web of intrigue and misfortune.

Since he had given his evidence, Pitt was now permitted to remain in the court, and since he was in command of the Bow Street station he was not answerable to anyone else to return to it. He chose to hear the rest of the trial from a place on the benches.

“Twelve years,” Birkett said in answer to Gleave’s question as to how long he had been acquainted with Adinett. “We met at the Services Club. You can usually be pretty sure of who you meet there.” He smiled very slightly. It was not a nervous smile, not ingratiating, certainly not humorous, merely a gesture of good nature. “Small world, you see? Field of battle tests men. You get to know pretty quickly who’s got the mettle, who you can rely on when there’s anything to lose. Ask around a bit and you’ll run into someone who knows your man.”

“I think we can all understand that,” Gleave said expansively. He too smiled, at the jury. “Nothing better tests a man’s true worth, his courage, his loyalty and his honor in battle than the threat to his own life, or perhaps something worse, the fear of maiming without death, of being left crippled and in permanent pain.” An expression of great grief filled his
face. He turned slowly so the gallery as well as the jurors might see it. “And did you hear anything ill of John Adinett among all your fellows at the Services Club, Mr. Birkett? Anything at all?”

“Not a word.” Birkett still treated the matter lightly. There was no amazement or emphasis in his voice. To him this seemed all a rather silly mistake which was going to be cleared up within a day or two, possibly less.

“But they did know Mr. Adinett?” Gleave pressed.

“Oh, yes, of course. He had served with particular distinction in Canada. Something to do with the Hudson Bay Company and a rebellion of some sort inland. Actually, Fraser told me about it. Said Adinett was more or less co-opted in because of his courage and his knowledge of the area. Vast wilderness, you know?” He raised fair eyebrows. “Yes, of course you know. Up in the Thunder Bay direction. No use for a man unless he has imagination, endurance, utter loyalty, intelligence and courage beyond limit.”

Gleave nodded. “How about honesty?”

Birkett looked surprised at last. His eyes widened. “One takes that for granted, sir. There is no place whatever for a man who is not honest. Anyone may be mistaken in one way or another, but a lie is inexcusable.”

“And loyalty to one’s friends, one’s fellows?” Gleave tried to look as if the question were casual and he did not know the answer. But he was in no danger of overplaying his hand. No one else in the room, except Juster, Pitt, and the judge, was sophisticated enough in courtroom histrionics to be aware of his tactics.

“Loyalty is more precious than life,” Birkett said simply. “I would trust John Adinett with all I possess—my home, my land, my wife, my honor—and have not a moment’s concern that I stood in danger of losing any of it.”

Gleave was pleased with himself, as well he might be. The jury were regarding Birkert with admiration, and several of them had looked up at Adinett squarely for the first time. He was winning, and he tasted it already.

Pitt glanced at the jury foreman and saw him frown.

“Did you know Mr. Fetters, by any chance?” Gleave enquired conversationally, turning back to the witness.

“Slightly.” Birkett’s face darkened and a look of sadness came into it that was so sharp no one could question its reality. “A fine man. It is a bitter irony that he should travel the world in search of the ancient and beautiful in order to uncover the glories of the past, and slip to his death in his own library.” He let out his breath silently. “I’ve read his papers on Troy. Opened up a new world for me, I admit. Never thought it so … immediate, before. I daresay travel and a passionate interest in the richness of other cultures were what drew Fetters and Adinett together.”

“Could they have had a conflict of any sort over it?” Gleave asked, and the certainty of the answer shone in his eyes.

Birkett was startled. “Good heavens, no! Fetters was a skilled man; Adinett is merely an enthusiast, a supporter and admirer of those who actually made the discoveries. He spoke very highly of Fetters, but he had no ambition to emulate him, only to take joy in his achievements.”

“Thank you, Mr. Birkett,” Gleave said with a slight bow. “You have reinforced all that we have already heard from other men of distinction such as yourself. No one has spoken ill of Mr. Adinett, from the highest to the most humble. I don’t know if my learned friend has anything to put to you, but I have nothing further.”

Juster did not hesitate. The jury was slipping away from him, and Pitt could see that he knew it. But the shadow of indecision was in his face for only a moment before it was masked.

“Thank you,” he said graciously, then turned to Birkett

Pitt felt a tightening of anxiety in his chest; Birkett was unassailable, as all the character witnesses had been. In the last two days, by association with the men who admired him and were willing to swear friendship to him, even to appear in a court where he was accused of murder, Adinett had been placed almost beyond criticism. To attack Birkett would alienate the jury, not convince them of the few slender facts.

Juster smiled. “Mr. Birkett, you say that John Adinett was absolutely loyal to his friends?”

“Absolutely,” Birkett affirmed, nodding his agreement.

“A quality you admire?” Juster asked.

“Of course.”

“Ahead of loyalty to your principles?”

“No.” Birkett looked slightly puzzled. “I did not suggest that, sir. Or if I did, it was unintentional. A man must place his principles before everything, or he is of no value. A friend would expect as much. At least any man would that I should choose to call friend.”

“I too,” Juster agreed. “A man must do what he believes to be right, even if it should prove to be at the terrible cost of the loss of a friend, or of the esteem of those he cares for.”

“My lord!” Gleave said, standing up impatiently. “This is all very moral sounding, but it is not a question! If my learned friend has a point in all this, may he be asked to reach it?”

The judge looked at Juster enquiringly.

Juster was not perturbed. “The point is very important, my lord. Mr. Adinett was a man who would place his principles, his convictions, above even friendship. Or to put it another way, even friendship, however long or deep, would have to be sacrificed to his beliefs if the two were in opposition. We have established that the victim, Martin Fetters, was his friend. I am obliged to Mr. Gleave for establishing that friendship was not Adinett’s paramount concern, and he would sacrifice it to principle, were such a choice forced upon him.”

There was a murmur around the room. One of the jurors looked startled, but there was a sudden comprehension in his face. The foreman let out his breath in a sigh, and something within him relaxed.

“We have not established that there was any such conflict!” Gleave protested, taking a pace forward across the floor.

“Or that there was not!” Juster rejoined, swinging around to him.

The judge silenced them both with a look.

Juster thanked Birkett and returned to his seat, this time walking easily, with a slight swagger.

*   *   *

The following day Gleave began his final assault upon Pitt. He faced the jury.

“This whole case, flimsy and circumstantial as it is, depends entirely upon the evidence of one man, Superintendent Thomas Pitt.” His voice was heavy with contempt. “Discount what he says and what have we left? I don’t need to tell you—we have nothing at all!” He ticked off on his fingers. “A man who saw another man in the street, turning in towards one of the gardens. This man might have been John Adinett, or he might not.” He put up another finger. “A scratch on a door which could have been there for days, and was probably caused by a clumsily wielded billiard cue.” A third finger. “A library chair moved, for any number of reasons.” A fourth finger. “Books out of place.” He shrugged, waving his hands. “Perhaps they were left out, and the housemaid is not a reader of classical Greek mythology, so she put them back wherever she thought they fitted. Her mind was on tidiness of appearance, not order of subject. Very possibly she cannot read at all! A thread of carpet in a shoe.” He opened his eyes very wide. “How did it get there? Who knows? And most absurd of all, half a glass of port wine. Mr. Pitt would have us believe this means that Mr. Fetters had no occasion to ring for the butler. All it really means is that Mr. Pitt himself is not accustomed to having servants—which we might reasonably have guessed, since he is a policeman.” He pronounced the last word with total scorn.

There was silence in the courtroom.

Gleave nodded.

“I propose to call several witnesses who are well acquainted with Mr. Pitt and will tell you what manner of man he is, so you may judge for yourselves what his evidence is worth.”

Pitt’s heart sank as he heard Albert Donaldson’s name and saw the familiar figure cross the open well of the court and mount the witness stand. Donaldson looked heavier and grayer than he had when he was Pitt’s superior fifteen years before, but the expression in his face was just as Pitt recalled, and he
knew Donaldson’s contempt was still simmering just below the exterior.

The testimony went exactly as he expected.

“You are retired from the Metropolitan Police Force, Mr. Donaldson?” Gleave asked.

“I am.”

Gleave nodded slightly.

“When you were an inspector at the Bow Street station was there a Constable Thomas Pitt working there?”

“There was.” Donaldson’s expression already betrayed his feelings.

Gleave smiled. His shoulders relaxed.

“What sort of a man was he, Mr. Donaldson? I presume you had occasion to work with him often—in fact, he was answerable to you?”

“He wasn’t answerable to anybody, that one!” Donaldson retorted, darting a glance towards Pitt where he sat in the crowd. It had taken Donaldson only a moment to pick him out in the front rows. “Law to himself. Always thought he knew best, and wouldn’t be told by no one.”

He had waited years for his chance to get revenge for the frustration he had felt, for Pitt’s insubordination, for the flouting of rules Pitt had viewed as petty restrictions, for the cases Pitt had worked on without keeping his seniors informed. Pitt had been at fault. Even Pitt knew it now, when he had command of the station himself.

“Would
arrogant
be a fair word to describe him?” Gleave enquired.

“A very fair one,” Donaldson answered quickly.

“Opinionated?”
Gleave went on.

Juster half rose, then changed his mind.

The foreman of the jury leaned forward, frowning.

Up in the dock, Adinett sat motionless.

“Another good one.” Donaldson nodded. “Always wanted to do things his own way, never mind the official way. Wanted all the glory for himself, and that was plain to see from the start.”

Gleave invited the witness to give examples of Pitt’s arrogance,
ambition and flouting of the rules, and Donaldson obeyed with relish, until even Gleave decided he had had enough. He seemed a trifle reluctant to offer Donaldson to Juster, but he had no choice.

Juster took on his task with some satisfaction.

“You did not like Constable Pitt, did you, Mr. Donaldson?” he said ingenuously.

It would have been absurd for Donaldson to deny his feelings. Even he was sensible of that. He had shown them far too vividly.

“Can’t like a man who makes your job impossible,” he replied, the defensiveness sharp in his voice.

“Because he solved his cases in an unorthodox manner, at least at times?” Juster asked.

“Broke the rules,” Donaldson corrected.

“Made mistakes?” Juster stared very directly at him.

Donaldson flushed slightly. He knew Juster could trace the records easily enough, and probably had.

“Well, no more than most men.”

“Actually, less than most men,” Juster argued. “Do you know of any man, or woman, convicted on Mr. Pitt’s evidence, who was subsequently found to be innocent?”

The foreman of the jury relaxed.

“I don’t follow all his cases!” Donaldson objected. “I’ve got more to do with my time than trace cases of every ambitious constable on the force.”

Juster smiled. “Then I’ll tell you, since it is part of my job to know the men I trust,” he replied. “The answer is no, no one has been wrongly convicted on Superintendent Pitt’s evidence in all his career in the force.”

“Because we have good defense lawyers!” Donaldson glanced sideways at Gleave. “Thank God!”

Juster acknowledged the point with a grin. He knew better than to display temper before a jury.

“Pitt was ambitious.” He allowed it to be a statement more than a question.

“I said so. Very!” Donaldson snapped.

Juster put his hands in his pockets casually. “I presume he
must be. He has reached the rank of superintendent, in charge of a most important station, Bow Street. Rather higher than you ever reached, isn’t it?”

Donaldson flushed darkly. “I didn’t marry a well-born wife with connections.”

Juster looked surprised, his black eyebrows shooting up. “So he excelled you socially as well? And I hear she is not only well-born but intelligent, charming and handsome. I think we understand your feelings very well, Mr. Donaldson.” He turned away “Thank you. I have nothing further to ask you.”