Читать книгу The Case for the Crown - Fred M. White - Страница 9

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A startled cry rang round the room. It came simultaneously from every man and woman standing there. A moment before they had been mechanically following a commonplace story of drink and accident, and now, suddenly, at a word, they had been thrown headlong into thrilling drama. And in that instant, in the vague intangible way in which such things happen, it came to Cecil that she had been transformed into the hunted here, and that these people were like the hounds hot upon her trail. It was that vague psychological instinct, the instinct of original man for the hunting of his fellows, the most fascinating of all dramas. And in that instant, too, Cecil divined that nearly every one there was against her. She glanced round, half timidly, yet wholly defiantly, but she could read no sympathy anywhere save in the eyes of Dr. Barclay and perhaps on the face of the coroner.

"Indeed!" the latter exclaimed. "This puts a different complexion upon matters altogether. I have something to think of besides the scope of my former inquiry. In common fairness to Mrs. Molyneux she ought to be legally represented in the face of a statement like this. If I had known what was coming I should certainly have cautioned her before I took her evidence. It is now close on 1 o'clock, and I propose to adjourn the inquiry for an hour. Then I will take Mr. Johnson's evidence, by which time, no doubt, Mrs. Molyneux will be properly represented."

The excited audience filed out, followed by the officials, and Cecil found herself alone in her own dining-room with the exception of Dr. Barclay.

"I am sorry," the doctor said. "More sorry than I can tell you. But it was my plain duty to tell the Coroner what I knew about that second bottle of medicine. It was my duty, not only to the Crown, but to myself. But I never anticipated Johnson's evidence."

"I am absolutely dazed," Cecil murmured. "It struck me like a flash of lightning. You may believe me or not, but I swear to you that last night, from the time I saw my husband alive to the time of his death, I was not beyond the garden gate. Mr. Johnson must have been mistaken."

"I believe you," Barclay said. "There is some strange mistake here, not to speak of it by a harsher name. It looks to me like a vile conspiracy, but all this is mere conjecture till we hear what Johnson has to say. And the coroner was quite right—you must be legally represented. I will call upon our friend Snow, and ask him to come along and see you at once. I don't think you could have a better man, and, besides, he knew your family intimately. Now try and eat something. You must keep up your strength. And when Snow comes, tell him everything. Tell him exactly what happened last night, and if there is anything you do not care to confide to me, don't make the mistake of keeping it a secret from him. I should be a false friend if I disguised from you the fact that your present position is a desperate one."

Cecil made a poor attempt to eat something, and she was more like herself when the lawyer put in an appearance half an hour later. He asked her a multitude of questions, and, though she was candid enough up to a certain point, she remained obstinately silent as to her farewell interview with Godfrey Coventry. It seemed to her that no good purpose could be served by her disclosure of facts: indeed, on the contrary, it would inevitably open up the way to a scandal without in any way bearing on the mystery of Robert Molyneux's death. And the more questions that the advocate asked the more grave his manner became.

"Am I in any danger?" Cecil faltered.

"Well, not quite so bad as that, perhaps. But you know what people are, and how easily they jump to conclusions."

Cecil asked no further questions. She found herself back presently in the crowded dining room, waiting with an eagerness that gripped at her throat like a physical pain to hear what Johnson might have to say. He was a heavy, stolid man, conscious of the importance of his position, and absolutely certain of his ground. In every way an ideal witness for a prosecution, confident and unshaken.

"Are you prepared to swear that it was Mrs. Molyneux you served last night?" the Coroner asked. "You will, of course, see how important it is that there should be no doubt."

"There is no doubt, sir," the witness said. "It was about half-past 9 when Mrs. Molyneux came into my shop and handed me the prescription across the counter. There was no one else there at the time, and all the lights were fully on. I know Mrs. Molyneux very well by sight: I have known her for years. At intervals she has been a customer of mine. I cannot say what sort of a dress she was wearing, but she had a sort of silk wrap over an evening blouse, and a small hat which was covered by a heavy veil."

"Did you address her by name?" the Coroner asked.

"No, I didn't, sir—at least, I don't think so. I probably said 'Good evening, madam,' or something of that kind. The lady did not answer, but pushed the prescription across to me, and murmured something to the effect that she would wait for it. I made up the medicine myself there and then, and then told her that it would be three and sixpence. In paying me she took her purse from her left-hand pocket, and removed her glove. It was then I was sure of my customer. On the second finger she was wearing a diamond ring of antique workmanship, a ring that I have noticed Mrs. Molyneux wearing before. I am a great admirer of old jewellery, and that is how I came to notice it."

Inspector Glass rose from his seat and handed a small glittering object to the Coroner.

"Will you ask the witness if he has seen it before, sir?" he said. "Ask him if that is the ring."

"That's it," the witness exclaimed after a close examination. "Mrs. Molyneux was wearing it last night."

"I am not going to deny it," Cecil cried. "I can see that that is my ring from here. My husband gave it me before we were married, and it has rarely been off my finger till after dinner last night, when my husband and I had a little dispute and he commanded me to give it back to him, which, in the heat of the moment, I did."

"You would be well advised," the Coroner said, "to say nothing now. Inspector Glass, would you mind telling the Court when and how that diamond ring found its way into your possession?"

"Certainly, sir. I found it on Mr. Molyneux's body when I was searching it last night."

Once more the wave of sensation rippled through the court. There were many people there who had now made up their minds as to what had happened, many of them there who would have been quite ready to convict Cecil out of hand. From their point of view she had deliberately taken the ring from her finger and placed it on the body of the man she had destroyed. The rest of the evidence mattered nothing. They listened with more or less impatience to Barton's evidence, and when at length 4 o'clock arrived and the court closed for the day there was no doubt as to Cecil's fate.

"The Court is adjourned for a month," the Coroner said. "It will take at least that time for the Home Office analyst to complete his examination of the body. This day month, therefore, at the same time."

It was over at length, the ordeal was at an end, and it seemed to Cecil that she was without a friend in the world.