The Hampstead Mystery - John R. Watson (best management books of all time txt) 📗

id="id01997">They drove back to town, and, in accordance with the arrangement Crewe had made with Mr. Walters before leaving the court, they waited on that gentleman at his chambers in Lincoln's Inn. There Crewe told him of the result of their investigations at Riversbrook. Mr. Walters was professionally pleased at the prospect of destroying the evidence of Kemp. He was not a hard-hearted man, and personally he would have preferred to see Holymead acquitted, if that were possible, but as the prosecuting Counsel he felt a professional satisfaction in being placed in the position to expose perjured evidence.

"Excellent! excellent!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands with gratification as he spoke. "Knowing what we know now, it will be a comparatively easy task to expose the witness Kemp under cross-examination, and show his evidence to be false." Mr. Walters looked as though he relished the prospect.

It was arranged that Inspector Chippenfield should be called to give evidence in rebuttal as to the impossibility of seeing the library window through the tree, and that an arboriculturist should also be called. Mr. Walters agreed to have the expert in attendance at the court in the morning.

But Crewe had something more on his mind, and he waited until Chippenfield and Rolfe had taken their departure in order to put his views before the prosecuting counsel. Then he pointed out to him that to prove that Kemp's evidence was false was merely to obtain a negative result. What he wanted was a positive result. In other words, he wanted Kemp's true story.

"You do not think, then, that Kemp is merely committing perjury in order to get Holymead off?" asked Walters meditatively. "You think he is hiding something?"

Crewe replied, with his faint, inscrutable smile, that he had no doubt whatever that such was the case. He thought Kemp's true story might be obtained if Walters directed his cross-examination to obtaining the truth instead of merely to exposing falsehood. It was evident to him that Kemp had come forward in order to save the prisoner. How far was he prepared to go in carrying out that object? When he was made to realise that his perjury, instead of helping Holymead, had helped to convince the jury of the prisoner's guilt, would he tell the true story of how much he knew?

"My own opinion is that he will," continued Crewe. "I studied his face very closely while he was in the box to-day, and I am convinced he would go far—even to telling the truth—in order to save the only man who was ever kind to him."

Walters was slow in coming round to Crewe's point of view. He had a high opinion of Crewe, for in his association with the case he had realised how skilfully Crewe had worked out the solution of the Riversbrook mystery. But he took the view that now the case was before the court it was entirely a matter for the legal profession to deal with. He pointed out to Crewe the professional view that his own duty did not extend beyond the exposure of Kemp's perjury. It was not his duty to give Kemp a second chance—an opportunity to qualify his evidence. He believed the defence had called Kemp in the belief that his evidence was true, but the defence must take the consequences if they built up their case on perjured evidence which they had not taken the trouble to sift.

Crewe entered into the professional view sympathetically, but he was not to be turned from his purpose. He felt that too much was at stake, and he lifted the discussion out of the atmosphere of professional procedure into that of their common manhood.

"Walters, I know you are not a vain man," he said, earnestly. "A personal triumph in this case means even less to you than it does to me. I have built up what I regard as an overwhelming case against Holymead. But it is based on circumstantial evidence, and I would willingly see the whole thing toppled over if by that means we could get the final truth. This man Kemp knows the truth, and you are in a position in which you can get the truth from him. It may be the last chance anyone will have of getting it. Apart from all questions of professional procedure, isn't there an obligation upon you to get at the truth?"

"If you put it that way, I believe there is," replied Walters slowly and meditatively. There was a pause, and then he spoke with a sudden impulse. "Yes, Crewe; you can depend on me. I'll do my best."

CHAPTER XXXII

The public interest in the Holymead trial on the second day was even greater than on the first. It was realised that Kemp's evidence had given an unexpected turn to the proceedings, and that if it could be substantiated the jury's verdict would be "not guilty." There were confident persons who insisted that Kemp's evidence was sufficient to acquit the prisoner. But every one grasped the fact that the Counsel for the prosecution, by his action in applying for an adjournment of the cross-examination of Kemp, clearly realised that his case was in danger if the evidence of the first witness for the defence could not be broken down.

The public appetite for sensation having been whetted by sensational newspaper reports of the latest phase of the Riversbrook mystery, there was a great rush of people to the Old Bailey early on the morning of the second day to witness the final stages of the trial. The queue in Newgate Street commenced to assemble at daybreak, and grew longer and longer as the day wore on, but it was composed of persons who did not know that there was not the slightest possibility of their gaining admittance to Number One Court. The policeman who was invested with the duty of keeping the queue close to the wall of the building forbore to break this sad news to them. Being faithful to the limitations of the official mind, he believed that the right thing to do was to let the people in the queue receive this important information from the sergeant inside. How was he to know without authority from his superior officer that any of these people wanted to be admitted to Number One Court? So the policeman pared his nails, gallantly "minding" the places of pretty girls in the queue who, worn out by hours of waiting in the cold, desired to slip away to a neighbouring tea-shop to get a cup of tea before the court opened, and sternly rebuking enterprising youths who endeavoured to wedge themselves in ahead of their proper place.

The body of the court was packed before the proceedings commenced. The number of ladies present was even greater than on the first day, and the resources of the ushers were severely taxed to find accommodation for them all. In the back row Crewe noticed Mrs. Holymead, accompanied by Mademoiselle Chiron. They had not been in court on the previous day. Mrs. Holymead seemed anxious to escape notice, but Crewe could see that although she looked anxious and distressed, she was buoyed up by a new hope, which doubtless had come to her since Kemp had given his evidence.

There was an expectant silence in the court when Mr. Justice Hodson took his seat and the names of the jurymen were called over. Kemp entered the witness-box with a more confident air than he had worn the previous day. Mr. Walters rose to begin his cross-examination, and the witness faced the barrister with the air of an old hand who knew the game, and was not to be caught by any legal tricks or traps.

"You said yesterday, witness," commenced Mr. Walters, adjusting his glasses and glancing from his brief to the witness and from the witness back to the brief again, "that you saw the prisoner enter the gate at Riversbrook about 9.30 on the night of the 18th of August?"

"Yes." The monosyllable was flung out as insolently as possible. The speaker watched his interrogator with the lowering eyes of a man at war with society, and who realised that he was facing one of his natural enemies.

"Did he see you?"

"No."

"You are quite sure of that?"

"Haven't I just said so?"

"Do not be insolent, witness"—it was the judge's warning voice that broke into the cross-examination—"answer the questions."

"How long was it after the prisoner entered the carriage drive that you went to the edge of the plantation and heard voices upstairs?" continued Mr. Walters.

"I went as soon as Mr. Holymead passed me."

"How far were you from the house?"

"About sixty yards."

"And from that distance you could hear the voices?"

"Yes."

"Plainly?"

"Not very. I could hear the voices, but I couldn't hear what they were saying."

"Were they angry voices?"

"They seemed to me to be talking loudly."

"Yet you couldn't hear what they were saying?"

"No; I was sixty yards away."

"You said in your evidence in chief that the talking continued half an hour. Did you time it?"

"No."

"Then what made you swear that?"

"I said about half an hour. I smoked out a pipeful of tobacco while I was standing there, and that would be about half an hour." Kemp disclosed his broken teeth in a faint grin.

"What happened next?"

"I heard the front door slam, and I saw somebody walking across the garden, and go into the carriage drive towards the gate."

"Did you recognise who it was?"

"Yes; Mr. Holymead." Kemp looked at the prisoner as he gave the answer.

"You swear it was the prisoner?"

"I do."

"Let me recall your evidence in chief, witness. You swore that you identified Mr. Holymead as he went in because he struck a match to look at the time as he passed you, and you saw his face. Did he strike matches as he went out?"

"No."

"Then how are you able to swear so positively as to his identity in the dark?"

Kemp considered a moment before replying.

"Because I know him well and I was close to him," he said at length. "I was close enough to him almost to touch him. I knew him by his walk, and by the look of him. It was him right enough, I'll swear to that."

"I put it to you, witness," persisted Counsel, "that you could not positively identify a man in a plantation at that time of night. Do you still swear it was Mr. Holymead?"

"I do," replied Kemp doggedly.

"What did you do then?"

"I stayed where I was."

"What for?"

"I don't know. I didn't have any particular reason. I just stayed there watching."

"Did you think the prisoner might return?"

"No," replied the witness quickly. "Why should I think that?"

"How long did you stay watching the house?"

"It might be a matter of ten minutes more."

"And the prisoner didn't return during that time?"

"No," replied the witness emphatically.

"What did you do after that?"

"I went to the Tube station."

"Prisoner might have returned after you left?"

"I suppose he might," replied the witness reluctantly.

"Well, now, witness, you say you stayed ten minutes after Holymead left, and during that time Sir Horace opened the window and leaned out of it?"

"Yes."

"You saw him distinctly?"

"Yes."

"You are sure it was Sir Horace Fewbanks?"

"Yes."

"Now, witness," said Mr. Walters, suddenly changing his tone to one of more severity than he had previously used, "you have told us that you heard Sir Horace Fewbanks and the prisoner in the library while you stood in the wood by the garage, and that subsequently you saw Sir Horace leaning out of the window after the prisoner had gone. You are quite sure you were able to see and hear all this from where you stood?"

"Yes."

"Are you aware, witness, that there is a large chestnut-tree at the side of the library, in front of the window?"

Kemp considered for a moment.

"Yes," he said.

"And did not that tree obstruct your view of the library window?"

"No."

"Witness," said Mr. Walters solemnly, "listen to me. This tree did not obstruct your view when you went to Riversbrook a week or so ago to decide on the nature of the evidence you would give in this court. It is bare of leaves now, and you could see the library window and even see into the library from where you stood. But I put it to you that on the 18th of August, when this tree was covered with its summer foliage, you could no