The Attic Murder Part 10

"Beyond these singular incidents, did you observe or hear anything of an unusual nature prior to the day preceding the death of William Rabone?"

"No. Nothing till the evening before."

"And then? Will you tell the court what occurred in your own way?"

"Mr. Rabone came in earlier than usual -- about six o'clock. It had been understood that he would do so, and that he wanted to talk to me. He had made it plain that he didn't want Mr. Hammerton to be there, and he went upstairs when Mr. Rabone came in, so that we had a long time alone.

"The conversation didn't go at all as I had expected it would. He said almost at first that he had found out who I was, and that I was spying on him. He made out that he had known all along, though I didn't think that was true. But he didn't seem to care, or to resent it at all. He treated it more as a joke.

"He said that I had been wasting my time, and that he had written to the general manager of the bank. He said he was going to make him an offer, and if it were taken in the right way, he could save the bank many thousands of pounds, besides more worry than it was good for bank directors to have; but, of course, he wasn't going to do it for nothing.

"He said, anyway, that he didn't care. It would be their funeral, not his. Even if they wouldn't come to terms, they couldn't do more than dismiss him, and he was thankful to say that he wasn't poor enough to mind that. Whatever else happened, he would resign. When he found that they were putting people to spy on him, it was time to bring things to an end, which he meant to do.

"Then he went on to say that I needn't worry about the office again, as he was going to give me a better life than that of a common spy. He would go abroad, and begin to spend money, instead of working all the time, as he had been doing till then, and I could share his life, as he seemed to feel sure that I should be willing to do.

"Even when I raised difficulties, he seemed to think that I only stood out because I wasn't sure that he would do all that he said.

"On my side, I wanted him to say more than he would -- he was too cautious, from first to last, to let me learn anything definite -- and so, altogether, we talked for a long time without getting much further forward."

Mr. Garrison intervened: "I must be clear upon this. Do I understand that Rabone admitted to you that he had been party to conspiracies for defrauding the bank by which he was employed, which he would be willing to betray if he were to receive a sufficient reward, but not otherwise?"

"No. It wouldn't be right to say that. He admitted nothing. But it was implicit in all he said."

"And he recognized at the same time that he was threatened with exposure? Did he appear to be in a mood in which a man might destroy himself to escape the consequences of his wrong-doing?"

"No. Not in the least. He appeared confident in his own position, and contemptuous of anything they could do."

"And you feel sure that that att.i.tude was genuine, and not merely a.s.sumed?"

"Yes. I don't think there could be any doubt about that."

"Very well. Pray go on, Mr. Dunkover."

"And how did this conversation end?"

"I allowed it to appear that I was overcome by his pursuasions, and inclined to agree. It was after midnight then. I think I was willing to say almost anything which would have ended the conversation. I proposed to give him a final answer in the morning."

"Did he agree to that?"

"No. He became very difficult. I think he became more doubtful of what I meant than he had been while I was holding him off more indefinitely. He was very shrewd in his own way, but he had an idea that any girl could be bought, or that he would be attractive to her, or perhaps both. He said he must have an answer then, and he made it very clear what he meant it to be.

"I said I was too tired to say more that night, and was going to bed. He didn't object to that, but he followed me up, and tried to come into my room before I could lock the door... He'd tried to do that more than once before, but I'd had less difficulty in putting him off.

"Now he said that I'd got to learn that one room was enough for both, and I might begin then just as well as later. I threatened to call Mrs. Benson or Mr. Hammerton, if he wouldn't leave me alone for that night, but he said he didn't care about them He knew how to manage them, and a few more if it came to that... And then I happened to say, did he know how late it was? -- that it was half-past one then, and when I mentioned the time he suddenly altered, and said he hadn't known that I was as tired as I said, and of course he'd wait till the next night.

"I felt sure it was reminding him of the time which had made such a sudden change, and it made me guess that he was expecting a visitor to his room of whom he didn't wish me to know, so I went into my own room, and locked the door, and loosened the window, and after a few minutes I put out the light, as though I had gone to bed. But I didn't really undress. I just lay down on the bed."

The magistrate interrupted again: "You say you lay down on the bed. You didn't open it?"

She thought a moment, before she replied. "Yes, I did open it. But I mean I didn't undress. I lay down in my clothes. But it was a cold night, and I drew the bedclothes over me. I think I had got chilly staying so long downstairs."

"You will see," Mr. Dunkover said, "that that supports the evidence we have heard already."

Mr. Garrison agreed. "Yes. It was a small point, but I wished it clear."

Miss Weston went on: "I think I dozed, though I hadn't meant to, for the next thing of which I was conscious was a murmur of voices in Mr. Rabone's room. It was low at first, but after that it became louder, and then low again, rather as though there had been a quarrel which had been made up, and then I heard Mr. Rabone give a terrible cry.

"I jumped up when I heard that, and ran to his room. As I crossed the landing, I remember seeing a line of light under his door, and hearing something that sounded like a struggle within the room. But as I was opening the door someone pressed against it from the inside, and then the light was switched off.

"After that, the door opened easily. I couldn't see anything inside, but I thought I heard something move on the floor, and a man's steps crossed the room to the window. I remember thinking that, though I could see nothing, I must be conspicuous to anyone in the room while I stood in the doorway, so I stepped in, and somewhat sideways while I felt for the switch. I couldn't find it for a moment. It isn't just where you'd expect it to be. And when I did get a light I saw a man's legs disappearing through the open window.

"The next moment, I saw Mr. Rabone on the floor. He was still moving, but you could see at a glance that he was beyond help. His head was -- well, you could see.

"I switched off the light again. I don't quite know why. It may have been to conceal myself from the man who had just gone through the window, or it may have been to shut out the sight of Mr. Rabone on the floor. I just did it, without stopping to think.

"I slipped back to my own room, and opened the window. The man was evidently getting away as quickly as he could, and making more noise than I had heard the time before. I followed, but could not get near enough to see what he was like. In fact, he got farther away.

"But I saw him go in at the same window -- number thirteen -- as before, and a minute after I crept quietly up to it, and looked in.

"It didn't open into a room, but an unlighted landing, with some stairs going down at the farther end. There was no light on the landing, but a little light came from the stairs. It shone up from the floor below. I looked in for a minute, and it was all quiet, so I tried the window. It didn't seem to have any fastening except a loose-fitting latch, and I had it open in a moment, without making any noise, and got down on to the landing.

"I thought that if I could get down to the front door and found it barred it would almost certainly mean that the man was remaining within the house, and probably someone who lived there, but if the door were open it would mean that he had escaped into the street.

"I went down as quietly as I could, though it seemed that every stair creaked, but I heard no other sound, and I couldn't see any lights under the doors. The house might have been empty for anything I could tell. And when I got down to the street door, it was shut, but not bolted. It closed with a Yale lock, and when I pulled this back it opened at once.

"I looked out into the street, but there was no one there, and I stood for some moments undecided what I should do. I didn't feel inclined to go back into the house, nor to go to number seventeen, and have to knock Mrs. Benson up, and see Mr. Rabone again with her.

"I felt that it wasn't really my matter how he had got killed, and anyway I'd done all that I could, and the best thing I could do was to go back to my own home, and report to the office in the morning."

"You appear to have acted, up to that point," Mr. Garrison said, "with a good deal of courage, and some discretion, but you should have known that it was your duty to have informed the police at once. In such a position your first duty is to the state."

Miss Weston was conscious that her feeling had been at the time that her first duty was to her employers, and the doctrine stated with such a.s.surance by Mr. Garrison is probably one to which the majority of women only conform when it coincides with more intimate codes. But if her mind did not accept this precept, she had sufficient sense not to question it. She said: "I've seen since that I didn't act very wisely; but I suppose I'd had about as much as I could stand for the time," and the magistrate accepted the explanation without further comment.

Mr. Dunkover said: "It appears that Miss Weston reported her experiences to her employers, who communicated with the London & Northern Bank immediately, and Miss Weston's statement was at once put at the disposal of the police."

Mr. Garrison made no reply. He had glanced at the clock which was on the opposite wall of the court, and observed that it was ten minutes to two. It was a tribute to the dramatic quality of Miss Weston's narrative that he had not previously observed that it was past his usual time for lunch. He said: "I think this will be a convenient time to adjourn. Till two-thirty prompt."

Chapter XXVIII.

WHEN the court rea.s.sembled, Mr. Dunkover announced at once that he did not propose to ask Miss Weston any further questions, and in the absence of Mr. Huddleston, who had not returned to the court, Mr. Augustus Pippin rose to cross-examine the witness.

Mr. Pippin was not an advocate of aggressive manner. He would seldom attempt to browbeat or bully when exerting his forensic skill to expose the mendacities in which those of the other side are supposed to revel.

He had a friendly ingratiating style of address, such as would have been called fatherly in an older man. He would discuss a witness's evidence with him in an intimate, confidential manner, as though uniting with him to bring into clearer light the facts distorted by the blundering questions of the previous advocate.

He was ent.i.tled, by the etiquette of the occasion, to undertake the questioning of at least one of the less-important witnesses, but it was a compliment to his reputation that Mr. Huddleston entrusted him with Miss Weston's cross-examination. He had actually hesitated between doing this and surrendering Francis Hammerton to his junior's seductive ministrations. But he was undecided as to the expediency of recalling Francis to the box, and he may have thought that Mr. Pippin's methods would be particularly well adapted to procure Miss Weston's undoing, if there should have been more or less than truth's simplicity in her fluent narrative of a night's adventures.

"Miss Weston," Mr. Pippin began, with a friendly glance, approaching admiration, at a young lady on whom it was easy to smile, "I think you told us that you were in Mrs. Benson's house about two months?"

"Yes. It was about nine weeks."

"And you have explained very clearly the degree of intimacy (if you will permit the word) which had developed between yourself and Mr. Rabone during that time, before which he was, as I understand -- in fact, he must have been -- an absolute stranger to you?"

"Yes. So far as I know I had never seen him before."

"That was obvious, because, had you been previously acquainted, you would not have entered the house under an a.s.sumed name. You did so, as you have told the court, under that of Mary Jones. Would you please explain why?"

"I think I chose it because it was an easy one to remember."

"Yes. I suppose it is. But why change it at all?"

"I believe it is quite usual to do so when engaged in such enquiries."

"Possibly so. It is a matter on which I am not well informed. But what I am anxious to know is why it should have been done on this occasion."

"It may have obvious advantages."

"Yes. But it must have disadvantages also, which are at least equally obvious. You might be met by someone to whom you were known, who would use your true name in a disconcerting way. Or you might use or sign it yourself by inadvertence, so that the imposture would be disclosed. May I take it that it has been your habit to use an a.s.sumed name when engaged in such investigations?"

"It was the first time that I had had occasion to do so."

"You mean that it is the first time that you have been engaged in work of this kind?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been in the employment of the Texall Enquiry Agency?"

"About three months."

"And previously?"

"I had no previous employment."

"You are, perhaps, a young lady of private means?"

"I have a small income."

"And yet you engaged in this somewhat unusual and even, to some ways of thinking, repellent occupation. Do you mind saying why?"

"Well, it was something to do."

As Mr. Pippin asked these questions, his expression had been friendly, his tone casual. He had not appeared to notice that there had been increasing hesitation, if not actual evasion, in the brief replies he received, but it was clear to all who watched and listened that Miss Weston was replying with reluctance, and with a growing impatience hardly controlled.

Her last answer found Mr. Pippin in pleasant agreement.

"Yes," he said. "So it was. But it is not always easy, even for young ladies of, if I may say so, exceptional abilities and attractions, to get such positions without previous experience. How did you first get in touch with the Texall Agency?"

"I was introduced by Sir Reginald Crowe -- by the London & Northern Bank."

Mr. Pippin paused for a moment, in an atmosphere which had become tensely silent with the instinctive realization that they were on the edge of one of those dramatic episodes in which a witness, giving evidence which may have been equally unexpected both to prosecution and defence, will sometimes confuse the issue for both alike, or destroy the very foundations on which they have united to build. His examination to this point had ill.u.s.trated the soundness of Inspector Combridge's maxim that if you are content to go on a step at a time you may be surprised by the distance which you progress. He had commenced with a convenient opening from which he had intended to pa.s.s rapidly to a further and more promising line of attack, but he had perceived at once, with the sense, half instinct, half reason, of the practised advocate, that there was something held in the reserve of the witness's mind which it might be profitable to probe.

Now his tone became slightly expostulatory, as though in good-humoured protest at the defects of a woman's logic: "You were introduced by the London & Northern Bank! Shall we say that you were introduced for the explicit purpose of making William Rabone's acquaintance? And do you still say that you had no special reason to change your name?"

In a long moment of silence, and with visible effort, Miss Weston controlled herself to reply: "Whatever reason I may have had, it has not the remotest connection with the murder concerning which I am giving evidence, and I would prefer not to reply."

"I am sorry, Miss Weston, but I must still ask you to do so."

"I think it should be sufficient when I say that it has nothing to do with the present case."

"It is a matter on which you may not be the best judge."

Mr. Garrison interposed. "The questions appear to be quite simple, Miss Weston, and I must instruct you that it is your duty to answer them. It is very difficult to see why you should object to do so. I will repeat them for you. Did you enter the employment of the Texall Enquiry Agency with the direct purpose of being appointed to watch WiIliam Rabone? And why did you think it necessary for this purpose to change your name?"

It might be noticed by those who watched closely that Miss Weston's hands, which had been pressed tightly upon the rail of the witness-box, relaxed their tension, and her voice lost its previous tone of restraint, as she replied.

"Very well. If you insist, I must tell you. I did it I because I knew that Mr. Rabone was responsible for my father's death."

Mr. Pippin contrived to look several things at the same time. He was surprised, shocked, sympathetic, anxious for more. Inwardly, he was in excellent spirits, finding that he was reaping a fruitful crop from what he had expected to be lean if not barren ground. He began: "Perhaps, Miss Weston, you would -- - " But Mr. Garrison interrupted him.

"I will deal with this, if you please. Miss Weston, I am sure you realize the gravity of the allegation you have just made. Will you tell me what ground you have for charging William Rabone with responsibility for your father's death?"

"My father was chief accountant at the head office of the London & Northern Bank. He shot himself two years ago, after he had been transferred to a less responsible position."

"And how does that support the imputation against the man with whose murder -- if such it were -- we are now dealing?"

"The bank was the victim of certain forgeries of a very cunning kind, which required an inside knowledge such as my father had. He said that there was only one other man except himself who could have given the information by which those frauds were successfully carried out. That was Mr. Rabone. My father said to me, time after time, that he was sure Rabone was guilty, but that he had no proof, and that was not a thing which he could say, when there was equal suspicion against himself.

"He was never the same man after that incident, though he received a letter from the directors a.s.suring him of their continued confidence. His health broke down, and that was, as I have since been a.s.sured, the only reason that he was transferred to a position of less responsibility. But he took it the wrong way, and he committed suicide two days later."

Mr. Garrison considered this explanation. He addressed Mr. Pippin: "You will see that Miss Weston felt that if it could be shown that Rabone was an unfaithful servant to the bank, it would clear any shadow of suspicion from her father's name. It is a matter which may or may not be relevant to the present case. At present, it seems to me to be somewhat remote. Perhaps that will be all, Mr. Pippin?"

It was a plain hint that, in the magistrate's opinion, the cross-examination should not be continued; but Mr. Pippin had been consulting hurriedly with Mr. Huddleston (who had re-entered the court a few minutes earlier), and he now rose to say that there were a few further questions which he felt it necessary to ask. "I have," he said, "my client's interests to consider."

"That," Mr. Garrison agreed, "is the paramount consideration. Go on, Mr. Pippin."

Mr. Pippin turned to the witness: "You have told the court, Miss Weston, that you accounted William Rabone responsible for your father's death, and having that conviction in your mind -- whether it were well-founded or not -- you were willing to be the instrument of his ruin?"

"I wanted to get the truth."

"Yes... Whatever it might be?"