Duke of D.: "Couldn't believe it at first. If it hadn't been old Tom Freeborn I'd have put the thing in the fire straight off, and, even as it was, I didn't quite know what to think. I mean, it wasn't as if it had happened in England, you know. I mean to say, Frenchmen get so excited about nothing. Only there was Freeborn, and he isn't the kind of man that makes mistakes."
The Coroner: "What did you do?"
Duke of D.: "Well, the more I looked at it the less I liked it, you know. Still, I couldn't quite leave it like that, so I thought the best way was to go straight to Cathcart. They'd all gone up while I was sittin' thinkin' about it, so I went up and knocked at Cathcart's door. He said, 'What's that?' or 'Who the devil's that?' or somethin' of the sort, and I went in. 'Look here,' I said, 'can I just have a word with you?' 'Well, cut it short, then,' he said. I was surprised-he wasn't usually rude. 'Well,' I said, 'fact is, I've had a letter I don't much like the look of, and I thought the best thing to do was to bring it straight away to you an' have the whole thing cleared up. It's from a man-a very decent sort-old college friend, who says he's met you in Paris.' 'Paris!' he said, in a most uncommonly unpleasant way. 'Paris! What the hell do you want to come talkin' to me about Paris for?' 'Well,' I said, 'don't talk like that, because it's misleadin' under the circumstances.' 'What are you drivin' at?' says Cathcart. 'Spit it out and go to bed, for God's sake.' I said, 'Right oh! I will. It's a man called Freeborn, who says he knew you in Paris and that you made money cheatin' at cards.' I thought he'd break out at that, but all he said was, 'What about it?' 'What about it?' I said. 'Well, of course, it's not the sort of thing I'm goin' to believe like that, right bane-slap off, without any proofs.' Then he said a funny thing. He said, 'Beliefs don't matter-it's what one knows about people.' 'Do you mean to say you don't deny it?' I said. 'It's no good my denying it,' he said; 'you must make up your own mind. Nobody could disprove it.' And then he suddenly jumped up, nearly knocking the table over, and said, 'I don't care what you think or what you do, if you'll only get out. For God's sake leave me alone!' 'Look here,' I said, 'you needn't take it that way. I don't say I do believe it-in fact,' I said, 'I'm sure there must be some mistake; only, you bein' engaged to Mary,' I said, 'I couldn't just let it go at that without looking into it, could I?' 'Oh!' says Cathcart, 'if that's what's worrying you, it needn't. That's off.' I said, 'What?' He said, 'Our engagement.' 'Off?' I said. 'But I was talking to Mary about it only yesterday.' 'I haven't told her yet,' he said. 'Well,' I said, 'I think that's damned cool. Who the hell do you think you are, to come here and jilt my sister?' Well, I said quite a lot, first and last. 'You can get out,' I said; 'I've no use for swine like you.' 'I will,' he said, and he pushed past me an' slammed downstairs and out of the front door, an' banged it after him."
The Coroner: "What did you do?"
Duke of D.: "I ran into my bedroom, which has a window over the conservatory, and shouted out to him not to be a silly fool. It was pourin' with rain and beastly cold. He didn't come back, so I told Fleming to leave the conservatory door open-in case he thought better of it-and went to bed."
The Coroner: "What explanation can you suggest for Cathcart's behaviour?"
Duke of D.: "None. I was simply staggered. But I think he must somehow have got wind of the letter, and knew the game was up."
The Coroner: "Did you mention the matter to anybody else?"
Duke of D.: "No. It wasn't pleasant, and I thought I'd better leave it till the morning."
The Coroner: "So you did nothing further in the matter?"
Duke of D.: "No. I didn't want to go out huntin' for the fellow. I was too angry. Besides, I thought he'd change his mind before long-it was a brute of a night and he'd only a dinner-jacket."
The Coroner: "Then you just went quietly to bed and never saw deceased again?"
Duke of D.: "Not till I fell over him outside the conservatory at three in the morning."
The Coroner: "Ah yes. Now can you tell us how you came to be out of doors at that time?"
Duke of D. (hesitating): "I didn't sleep well. I went out for a stroll."
The Coroner: "At three o'clock in the morning?"
Duke of D.: "Yes." With sudden inspiration; "You see, my wife's away." (Laughter and some remarks from the back of the room.)
The Coroner: "Silence, please… You mean to say that you got up at that hour of an October night to take a walk in the garden in the pouring rain?"
Duke of D.: "Yes, just a stroll." (Laughter.)
The Coroner: "At what time did you leave your bedroom?"
Duke of D.: "Oh-oh, about half-past two, I should say."
The Coroner: "Which way did you go out?"
Duke of D.: "By the conservatory door."
The Coroner: "The body was not there when you went out?"
Duke of D.: "Oh, no!"
The Coroner: "Or you would have seen it?"
Duke of D.: "Lord, yes! I'd have had to walk over it."
The Coroner: "Exactly where did you go?"
Duke of D. (vaguely): "Oh, just round about."
The Coroner: "You heard no shot?"
Duke of D.: "No."
The Coroner: "Did you go far away from the conservatory door and the shrubbery?"
Duke of D.: "Well-I was some way away. Perhaps that's why I didn't hear anything. It must have been."
The Coroner: "Were you as much as a quarter of a mile away?"
Duke of D.: "I should think I was-oh, yes, quite!"
The Coroner: "More than a quarter of a mile away?"
Duke of D.: "Possibly. I walked about briskly because it was cold."
The Coroner: "In which direction?"
Duke of D. (with visible hesitation): "Round at the back of the house. Towards the bowling-green."
The Coroner: "The bowling-green?"
Duke of D. (more confidently): "Yes."
The Coroner: "But if you were more than a quarter of a mile away, you must have left the grounds?"
Duke of D.: "I-oh, yes-I think I did. Yes, I walked about on the moor a bit, you know."
The Coroner: "Can you show us the letter you had from Mr. Freeborn?"
Duke of D.: "Oh, certainly-if I can find it. I thought I put it in my pocket, but I couldn't find it for that Scotland Yard fellow."
The Coroner: "Can you have accidentally destroyed it?"
Duke of D.: "No-I'm sure I remember putting it- Oh"-here the witness paused in very patent confusion, and grew red-"I remember now. I destroyed it."
The Coroner: "That is unfortunate. How was that?"
Duke of D.: "I had forgotten; it has come back to me now. I'm afraid it has gone for good."
The Coroner: "Perhaps you kept the envelope?"
Witness shook his head.
The Coroner: "Then you can show the jury no proof of having received it?"
Duke of D.: "Not unless Fleming remembers it."
The Coroner: "Ah, yes! No doubt we can check it that way. Thank you, your grace. Call Lady Mary Wimsey."
The noble lady, who was, until the tragic morning of October 14
th
, the fiancée of the deceased, aroused a murmur of sympathy on her appearance. Fair and slender, her naturally rose-pink cheeks ashy pale, she seemed overwhelmed with grief. She was dressed entirely in black, and gave her evidence in a very low tone which was at times almost inaudible.
1
After expressing his sympathy, the Coroner asked, "How long had you been engaged to the deceased?"
Witness: "About eight months."
The Coroner: "Where did you first meet him?"
Witness: "At my sister-in-law's house in London.''
The Coroner: "When was that?"
Witness: "I think it was June last year."
1
From the newspaper report-not Mr. Parker.
The Coroner: "You were quite happy in your engagement?"
Witness: "Quite."
The Coroner: "You naturally saw a good deal of Captain Cathcart. Did he tell you much about his previous life?"
Witness: "Not very much. We were not given to mutual confidences. We usually discussed subjects of common interest."
The Coroner: "You had many such subjects?"
Witness: "Oh, yes."
The Coroner: "You never gathered at any time that Captain Cathcart had anything on his mind?"
Witness: "Not particularly. He had seemed a little anxious the last few days."
The Coroner: "Did he speak of his life in Paris?"
Witness: "He spoke of theatres and amusements there. He knew Paris very well. I was staying in Paris with some friends last February, when he was there, and he took us about. That was shortly after our engagement."
The Coroner: "Did he ever speak of playing cards in Paris?"
Witness: "I don't remember."
The Coroner: "With regard to your marriage-had any money settlements been gone into?"
Witness: "I don't think so. The date of the marriage was not in any way fixed."
The Coroner: "He always appeared to have plenty of money?"
Witness: "I suppose so; I didn't think about it."
The Coroner: "You never heard him complain of being hard up?"
Witness: "Everybody complains of that, don't they?"
The Coroner: "Was he a man of cheerful disposition?"
Witness: "He was very moody, never the same two days together."
The Coroner: "You have heard what your brother said. Did you hear someone run downstairs and bang the front door.
[Some garbled text removed here]
The next witness called was James Fleming, the manservant.
He remembered having brought the letters from Riddlesdale at 9.45 on Wednesday evening. He had taken three or four letters to the Duke in the gunroom.
He could not remember at all whether one of them had had an Egyptian stamp. He did not collect stamps; his hobby was autographs.
The Hon. Frederick Arbuthnot then gave evidence.
He had gone up to bed with the rest at a little before ten. He had heard Denver come up by himself some time later-couldn't say how much later-he was brushing his teeth at the time. (Laughter.) Had certainly heard loud voices and a row going on next door and in the passage. Had heard somebody go for the stairs hell-for-leather. Had stuck his head out and seen Denver in the passage. Had said, "Hello, Denver, what's the row?" The Duke's reply had been inaudible.
Denver had bolted into his bedroom and shouted out of the window, "Don't be an ass, man!"
He had seemed very angry indeed, but the Hon. Freddy attached no importance to that. One was always getting across Denver, but it never came to anything. More dust than kick in his opinion. Hadn't known Cathcart long-I always found him all right-no, he didn't like Cathcart, but he was all right, you know, nothing wrong about him that he knew of. Good lord, no, he'd never heard it suggested he cheated at cards! Well, no, of course, he didn't go about looking out for people cheating at cards-it wasn't a thing one expected. He'd been had that way in a club at Monte once-he'd had no hand in bringing it to light-hadn't noticed anything till the fun began. Had not noticed anything particular in Cathcart's manner to Lady Mary, or hers to him. Didn't suppose he ever would notice anything; did not consider himself an observing sort of man. Was not interfering by nature; had thought Wednesday evening's dustup none of his business. Had gone to bed and to sleep.
The Coroner: "Did you hear anything further that night?"
Hon. Frederick: "Not till poor little Mary knocked me up. Then I toddled down and found Denver in the conservatory, bathing Cathcart's head. We thought we ought to clean the gravel and mud off his face, you know."
The Coroner: "You heard no shot?"
Hon. Frederick: "Not a sound. But I sleep pretty heavily."
Colonel and Mrs. Marchbanks slept in the room over what was called the study-more a sort of smoking-room really. They both gave the same account of a conversation which they had had at 11.30. Mrs. Marchbanks had sat up to write some letters after the Colonel was in bed. They had heard voices and someone running about, but had paid no attention. It was not unusual for members of the party to shout and run about.
At last the Colonel had said, "Come to bed, my dear, it's half-past eleven, and we're making an early start tomorrow. You won't be fit for anything." He said this because Mrs. Marchbanks was a keen sportswoman and always carried her gun with the rest. She replied, "I'm just coming." The Colonel said, "You're the only sinner burning the midnight oil-everybody's turned in." Mrs. Marchbanks replied, "No, the Duke's still up; I can hear him moving about in the study." Colonel Marchbanks listened and heard it too. Neither of them heard the Duke come up again. They had heard no noise of any kind in the night.
Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson appeared to give evidence with extreme reluctance. He and his wife had gone to bed at ten. They had heard the quarrel with Cathcart. Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson, fearing that something might be going to happen, opened his door in time to hear the Duke say, "If you dare to speak to my sister again I'll break every bone in your body," or words to that effect.
Cathcart had rushed downstairs. The Duke was scarlet in the face. He had not seen Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson, but had spoken a few words to Mr. Arbuthnot and rushed into his own bedroom. Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson had run out, and said to Mr. Arbuthnot, "I say, Arbuthnot," and Mr. Arbuthnot had very rudely slammed the door in his face. He had then gone to the Duke's door and said, "I say, Denver." The Duke had come out, pushing past him, without even noticing him, and gone to the head of the stairs. He had heard him tell Fleming to leave the conservatory door open, as Mr. Cathcart had gone out. The Duke had then returned.
Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson had tried to catch him as he passed, and had said again, "I say, Denver, what's up?" The Duke had said nothing, and had shut his bedroom door with great decision. Later on, however, at 11.30 to be precise, Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson had heard the Duke's door open, and stealthy feet moving about the passage. He could not hear whether they had gone downstairs. The bathroom and lavatory were at his end of the passage, and, if anybody had entered either of them, he thought he should have heard. He had not heard the footsteps return. He had heard his travelling clock strike twelve before falling asleep. There was no mistaking the Duke's bedroom door, as the hinge creaked in a peculiar manner.