Walking back alone to the "ridiculous flat," Ronald Cavendish was oppressed with a sense of his own inefficiency1. Even though his intuitive suspicions about Maggie Peterson's honesty had been to a very large extent confirmed by that piece of paper, the author of that piece of paper could not be found. Bunce, bullied2 to remember who had given him the document, thought it was "a common-looking kind of fellow." Cartwright, told, had said skeptically, "Those sort of things always happen in murder-trials. I'd forget it if I were you." But Ronnie could not forget.
Halting under the light of a street-lamp, he drew the paper from his pocketbook and reread it for the twentieth time. If only he could succeed in discrediting4 the Peterson woman. Yet, even if he did succeed in discrediting Maggie Peterson, in nullifying her evidence as to motive5, Brunton--according to his opening--had other witnesses.
Walking on, he bought an evening paper. The paper reported Brunton's speech verbatim. Curse Brunton! What an orator6 the man was. Listening to him, one could hardly imagine Lucy Towers anything but the murderous adulteress.
2
Caroline Staley had prepared the usual faultless dinner; but her master ate hardly anything. In his mind, he went over Maggie Peterson's evidence, weighing it word by word. Obviously the woman hated Lucy Towers; obviously, almost obviously, she had had some sort of relations, probably immoral8 relations, with the dead man. But how the devil could one prove that? Even proved, how did it advance matters? If only Bunce hadn't been such an infernal fool. If only Brunton weren't such an infernally fine orator. Curse Brunton!
Half a bottle of claret and a cigar only added to Ronnie's depression. Alone in the drawing-room where he and Aliette had so often sat together, he felt as though, failing Lucy Towers, he would fail his own woman; as though the fate of Lucy and the fate of Aliette were one fate; as though, by not saving the one from Brunton's hideous9 cleverness, he would never rescue the other from Brunton's hideous obduracy10.
Brunton! The man's face traced itself, bewigged, implacable, relentless11, in every up-curling puff12 of Ronnie's cigar-smoke. Behind that face hovered13 the faces of the jury. And the jury stood for public opinion; public opinion solid on Brunton's side. In his fight against Lucy Towers, as in his fight against his wife, Brunton had the world's judgment14 in his favor: yet both women--"both," repeated conviction--were innocent, at least in intent, of anti-social crime.
A hell of a lot "intent" mattered to Hector Brunton!
If only Hector Brunton were dead! If only for Aliette's sake, for Lucy's sake, he, Ronald Cavendish, could kill Brunton as William Towers had been killed! Surely that killing15 would be not murder, but justice. For more than a year Brunton, moved only by blind vanity, had been striving to compass the ruin of a woman against whom his only grudge16 was that she had denied herself to him. Now, moved by the same blind motive, he was striving to compass the ruin and the death of Lucy Towers. Between those two women and the tyrant17 who oppressed them stood but one man. Himself--Ronald Cavendish. Surely the killing of Brunton would be no murder!
The little mood of madness passed. Resolutely18 Ronnie put the personal issue out of mind. Resolutely he fetched his papers from his dressing-room and set himself to study the reports of the trial before the magistrate19. If only he could discredit3 Brunton's evidence on the question of adultery, surely there was a chance, just the shadow of a chance, to secure the coveted20 verdict, justifiable21 homicide.
"But I'd need to be an orator for that," he thought; and all night, tossing sleepless22, visions flickered23 across the taut24 screen-board of his brain. Alternately he saw Aliette, Lucy, his mother--sad faces, each oppressed, each pleading for deliverance.
Yet next morning, as he emerged from Temple Station and made his way along the Embankment to his chambers25, Ronald Cavendish's self-confidence returned. And the self-confidence increased fourfold when Bunce, rather shamefaced, handed him yet another scrap26 of paper.
"Found this in our letter-box, sir," said Bunce.
Deciphered, the sprawly disguised handwriting read: "I seed her in the Red Lion, Hill Street, with Bill T. Time 10:15 pip emma. She's a bitch. I ought to know. I married her."
This time even John Cartwright thought the information of value. "Though I don't see how you can use it," he said dubiously27. "Unless Standon's people can find this fellow Peterson for us."
"I sha'n't need Peterson," decided28 Ronnie, as their car swung them down Holborn. "He probably has his own reasons for keeping out of the way. A witness from the public-house will be enough. Will you send some one down at once? The fourth of July, luckily, is American Independence day. Some one's sure to remember if Towers was there on that particular night, and who was with him."
Public interest in the case had not diminished overnight. Already the early street crowd numbered hundreds. On the great staircase, on the wide landing, folks seethed30 and jostled. The packed court-room itself--as the dignified31 figures of Mr. Justice Heber and his accompanying big-wigs took their seats---was a lake of straining faces.
Immediately Brunton rose to examine his next witness; a tall black-mustached, black-haired type with flashy rings and a flashy tie-pin, who answered to the name of John Hodges.
He was a book-maker, John Hodges told the court. He had known Bill Towers for many years--long before he married. He had often heard the dead man speak of his wife. The dead man had been very fond of his wife; but the affection, according to Hodges, had not been reciprocated32.
Question and answer flowed on. But to Ronnie, waiting anxiously for Cartwright's return, it seemed as though Brunton must be ill. Twice the harsh voice missed the sequence of its questions. Twice Henry Smith-Assher had need to prompt his leader. And twice, as the examination neared its ending, the gray eyes under the "hanging prosecutor33's" gray horsehair deserted34 their witness to stare, fascinated, at the woman in the dock. Lucy Towers, it seemed to Brunton, stared back at him with his wife's own brown unfathomable pupils.
"You've known the accused ever since she married the deceased?" he asked his witness. "Has she ever spoken to you about her husband?"
"Only once."
"Can you remember what she said?"
"Yes. She said that she wished she'd never married him."
"When was that?"
"Some time in June."
"Can't you fix the exact date?"
"No, not the exact date. It was somewhere about the end of June, I think."
"Thank you." Heavily Hector Brunton sat down. All night the face of the woman in the dock had haunted him. And now, now the still, small voice of conscience was whispering again. "Cruel," whispered the voice; "cruel." But the sight of Cavendish, rising to cross-examine, silenced the voice of conscience, brought back the suspicion that Cavendish held some card, some trump-card, up his sleeve. And "Even if he gets the charge reduced to manslaughter," thought Brunton, "she'll do time. She won't be able to trouble me for years. Say seven years."
"Mr. Hodges"--Ronnie's voice recalled his enemy to the actualities,--"when the accused made this statement to you, were there any other people present?"
"Yes."
"Will you please tell his lordship and the jury who else was present."
"Bill Towers, of course."
"Why 'of course'?"
"Well, naturally he wouldn't leave another man alone with his wife."
"He was jealous of her, eh?"
"Jealous!" The rings flashed. "I should just about say he was jealous."
"Ah!"--Ronnie's coins jingled36--"and did this jealous husband make any comment on his wife's remark?"
"No."
"Wasn't that rather curious? Now tell me, did you gather, from the way you allege37 the accused spoke35, that she meant her statement seriously?"
"I thought she was serious."
"Oh, you did, did you? Please tell me something else. Are you prepared to inform his lordship and the jury that your impression at the time was that it was the accused's intention to kill her husband if ever she got the chance?"
"Well, I shouldn't like to go so far as, to say that."
"Naturally not. Now listen." Ronnie leaned forward; and his gaze traveled towards the jury. "I put it to you that the remark was meant as a joke."
"Well, not exactly a joke."
"Come, come, Mr. Hodges," said Ronnie, and his tone was a shade less suave38 than his words, "you're a man of the world. You must have realized at the time whether the accused was speaking seriously or not.'
"Very well. We'll leave it at that. The accused told you, in her husband's presence, that she wished she'd never married him. Her husband, apparently40, didn't take any notice of the remark. But you thought it was serious. Not very convincing--but still----"
Ronnie's question trailed off into a sarcastic41 silence. Looking sideways at Brunton, he could see that Brunton was troubled; Brunton kept talking to Smith-Assher, kept fidgeting with his gown and tapes, with the pencils and paper in front of him. The sight gave Ronnie confidence. He continued his cross-examination.
"You told my learned friend that, although William Towers was very fond of his wife, his affection was not reciprocated. How did you know that? Did she tell you?"
"No."
"Did William Towers tell you?"
"No."
"Then who did tell you?"
"Well, it was common gossip."
"Gossip!" Ronnie jumped on the word. "Where?"
"Oh, all over the place."
"Ah!" Counsel for the defense42 jingled two thoughtful coins. "I'm afraid I don't know Brixton very well, Mr. Hodges. Tell me, please, when you say all over the place, do you include," more jingling43 in the trouser-pocket, "a certain public-house called--'The Red Lion'?"
"Well----" the witness hesitated.
"Let me put my point clearly. Do you know, in Brixton, a public-house called 'The Red Lion'?"
"Yes."
"About half a mile."
"Shall we say about ten minutes' walk?"
"Yes. That's about it."
Obviously the judge was puzzled. "Mr. Cavendish," he intervened, "I'm afraid I don't quite follow."
"M' lord," every syllable45 of Ronnie's fell with its distinct emphasis, "the point is of vital importance in connection with the evidence of a previous witness." And he went on swiftly to ask the book-maker, "Do you know a woman called Maggie Peterson?"
"Oh, yes." The white teeth under the black mustache parted in a grin. "Oh, yes, I know her quite well."
"Mrs. Peterson told us in her evidence that she was a friend of the deceased. Is that true?"
"Oh, yes, they were quite friendly."
"Very friendly?"
"Yes."
"Ah!" Ronnie, glancing covertly46 at the jury, saw a little ripple47 of excitement pass over the stolid48 faces of the men. Behind him, among the barristers, he could hear excited breathing. "Now, just one more question, Mr. Hodges, and then I have finished with you. Have you ever seen Mrs. Peterson in company with William Towers at 'The Red Lion'?"
"M' lord"--Brunton, scruples49 and caution thrown to the winds, leaped upright,--"I protest at this attempt to cast aspersions----" But Mr. Justice Heber, who had now taken Ronnie's point, allowed the question; and John Hodges, reluctantly, answered it with a "Yes."
The K.C.'s attempt, in re?xamination, to prove the disinterestedness50 of the book-maker, added to Ronnie's elation7. If only Cartwright succeeded in securing that evidence----
But Brunton's examination of the next witness pricked51 the bubble of his opponent's momentary52 elation. The "hanging prosecutor" was fighting again, fighting as he had never battled in his life, for a conviction. The gray eyes no longer dared look at the dock; the woman in the dock, thought Brunton, was the woman who had wronged him, the creature he must destroy.
"I swear to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," said James Travers, a big blond seafaring man whose square-shouldered bulk almost filled the witness-box. And he spoke the truth according to his lights. A story deadly enough, even without Brunton's prompting. He and Bob Fielding had been shipmates during the war. Bob Fielding had often spoken to him about his cousin Lucy. Bob Fielding made no secret of the fact that he was in love with his cousin; "that he'd have cut off his right hand rather than that she should marry Bill Towers." Further, James Travers had visited Bob Fielding about three days before the commission of the crime.
"Did he, on that visit, speak to you about the deceased?" asked Brunton.
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He said that Bill Towers ought to be shot."
"Did he say anything about Mrs. Towers?"
"Yes, he said that she ought to have some one to look after her."
"Did he say she ought to have something to look after herself with?"
Despite Ronnie's protest at the leading question, his lordship allowed it; and James Travers answered, "Yes."
"And what happened then?"
"He showed me a pistol."
"A pistol!" Brunton signaled to the clerk of the court, and the clerk handed up a revolver to the witness. "Is that the pistol?"
"Yes."
"Was this weapon loaded when you last saw it?"
"It was."
"Did Fielding make any remark about it?"
"Yes. He said: 'That'll cook Bill's goose for him.'"
Once more the atmosphere of the court grew hostile. Watching the jury, Bonnie could see that his enemy had almost turned them. Impassivity settled like a mask on the faces of the nine men. The two spinsters gazed awe-struck at the big weapon in the seafarer's big hand. Even the red-hatted matron, whom he had decided a moment since definitely favorable, shook her head twice as though in new doubt. Then, turning from the jury-box to the dock, Ronnie was aware of his client's eyes. The eyes--Aliette's very own---looked pitiful. Imagination told him that they were afraid, that at last the woman realized her danger. He tried to signal to her; but she took no notice of his signal.
"That will be enough, I think," gloated Brunton; and, nervously53, Ronnie started his task of cross-examination.
"You've known Robert Fielding for some time?"
"About seven years."
"Is he, in your opinion, a violent man? The kind of man who would commit a murder?"
"No."
"Or," Ronnie's nervous voice dropped two full tones, "the sort of man who would incite54 some one else to commit murder?"
"No."
"When Robert Fielding told you that he was in love with his cousin--that was a good many years ago, wasn't it?--did you understand that there was anything guilty in that love? That his cousin was his mistress?"
"No. I did not." The sailor's eyes--blue as the barrister's own--kindled.
"As far as you know, had misconduct taken place between Robert Fielding and his cousin?"
"I don't know anything about that."
"Was Lucy Towers in the room during any part of your conversation with Robert Fielding?"
"No."
"Has Robert Fielding ever suggested to you, since his cousin's marriage, that he would like to get her away from her husband?"
"No." The witness hesitated. "Not exactly."
"What do you mean by 'not exactly'?"
"Well, it didn't seem to me that Bob'd be exactly sorry if anything happened to Towers."
Brunton chuckled56 audibly. The chuckle55 enraged57 Ronnie. For a question or two he fenced aimlessly with his witness's honesty. Then suddenly he decided to try and turn that very honesty against his opponent.
"Tell me," he said suavely58, "did you gather from the way in which Robert Fielding habitually59 spoke of him that the dead man, William Towers, was of a very violent disposition60?"
"Well, more or less I suppose I did."
"And would it be too much if I suggested to you that it was solely61 because of her husband's violent disposition that Robert Fielding thought his cousin should have either some one to protect her, or some means of protecting herself? That he had that particular thought in his mind, and that thought only, when he showed you this revolver?"
The sailor seemed to find some difficulty in understanding the suggestions; and even after Ronnie had repeated them piecemeal62, he refused, sailor-like, to commit himself.
Nervously, the cross-examination went on. "Now about this revolver: did you gather that Robert Fielding had only just bought it, or that he had had it in his possession for some considerable time? It's an old-fashioned navy revolver, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"He must have had it some time--ever since he left the service, probably?"
"Probably."
"He didn't, at any rate, tell you he'd just bought the weapon?"
"No."
"Coming back to the question of Towers, did Fielding tell you anything about his habits?"
"Not that I remember."
"He didn't by any chance mention," Ronnie referred to a note at the back of his brief, "that William Towers was addicted63 to drink?"
"No. He only said he ought to be shot."
Seating himself, Ronnie was conscious of partial failure. The sailor-man's innate64 distrust of lawyers had taken the edge off his questions. Brunton, infinitely65 experienced, limited his re?xamination to the main points: Robert Fielding had admitted himself in love with his cousin; Robert Fielding had said that William Towers ought to be shot.
Ronnie's hands, as he made his notes, trembled on the smooth foolscap. The mute figure in the dock was a reproach. Cartwright had failed him. Brunton's "That, members of the jury, is the case for the Crown," seemed to carry the unworded sting, "And let my learned enemy refute it if he can."
And then, just as Lucy Towers was being marched down to the cells, came Cartwright, his eyes twinkling behind his rimless66 eye-glasses. "I've got him outside," whispered Cartwright, "and I daren't leave him alone. It's too damned important. Here's your proof." He disappeared through the swing-doors with the crowd; and Ronnie, looking at the scribbled67 document, read:
"Bert Bishop68 will state: I am the licensee of the Red Lion Tavern69, Hill Street, Brixton. I remember the fourth of July last year, because it was American Independence day, and I have some American customers. On the fourth of July I had difficulty in turning them out at closing-time. I have known Maggie Peterson for two years. I knew the dead man, William Towers. Maggie Peterson and William Towers were at the Red Lion that night. They came in about eight o'clock, and did not leave till a quarter past ten."
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收听单词发音
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1
inefficiency
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| n.无效率，无能；无效率事例 | |
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bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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discrediting
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| 使不相信( discredit的现在分词 )； 使怀疑； 败坏…的名声； 拒绝相信 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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obduracy
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| n.冷酷无情，顽固，执拗 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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reciprocated
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| v.报答，酬答( reciprocate的过去式和过去分词 )；（机器的部件）直线往复运动 | |
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prosecutor
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| n.起诉人；检察官，公诉人 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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jingled
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| 喝醉的 | |
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allege
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| vt.宣称，申述，主张，断言 | |
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suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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covertly
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| adv.偷偷摸摸地 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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50
disinterestedness
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51
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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52
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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53
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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incite
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| v.引起，激动，煽动 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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suavely
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habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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piecemeal
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| adj.零碎的；n.片，块；adv.逐渐地；v.弄成碎块 | |
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63
addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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65
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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rimless
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| adj.无边的 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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