Bruce Alexander - Person or Persons Unknown

She looked at him suspiciously, almost in disbelief. “Don’t you remember?”

Her response, delivered in innocent ignorance, sent the entire room into great thundering laughter. Taken quite by surprise, Sir John himself joined in. And having done so, he could deal with neither jury nor witness as harshly as he might otherwise have done. In truth, all he could do was wait until the laughter had subsided, his own with the rest, and bang upon the desk before him with the carpenter’s mallet he seemed always to have at hand. He pled with one and all to be silent as Maggie Pratt stood, looking about her, pouting as a child might, finding itself a laughingstock for adults. I noted that she was the only woman in the room and wondered did not that have something to do with their derisive hilarity. I found myself moved to pity for her.

“No, my dear Mistress Pratt,” said Sir John, having brought the room to order and gained control of himself, “I remember quite well what you told me. It is necessary, however, for you to repeat it for the benefit of the jury and for the record.”

“I see,” said she, rather coldly. “Well, in that case, I’m willing to oblige.” Then did she take a deep breath and commence: “I was walkin’ about, just after a bite and a brew at Tompkins Ale House, and I found myself in Duke’s Court, and there do I see a big blowen in talk with a soldier.”

“You’re sure it was a soldier, are you?” asked Sir John.

“Ain’t I? No mistakin’ that red coat.”

“I suppose not. Continue, please.”

“Well, she turns half about, and I see it is Teresa for certain. So I goes to her, for I had somethin’ to ask of her.”

“And what was that?”

“Something personal, it was,” said she and waited, testing the effect of that. When she realized that such an evasion would avail her nothing, she resumed: “It had to do with one of her gentleman friends kept coming around to the room asking for her at all hours.”

“What was his name? He must have given it.”

“I cannot remember, sir.”

“Yet you remembered it right enough when you went to Teresa O’Reilly after spying her in Duke’s Court.”

“P’rhaps. But I believe I meant to describe him only.”

“Then describe him to us.”

She sighed. “Well, he was younger than me, but not all that much. In size and shape he’s like that young sir who come with us to the Tower, him that’s sittin’ over there” — she pointed at me. “But I don’t mean it’s your young helper — ^just like him is all.”

“I am relieved,” said Sir John. (And so, reader, was I.)

“He wears his hair cropped short like an Irishman, though he ain’t one so far as I can tell from his talk. And his nose is bent a bit. That’s all I can tell you, sir.”

She had given a fair description of him whom I had dubbed the “bully-boy” and had met twice — in Drury Lane and Angel Court. I was sure that she must also know his name.

“Well enough, thank you,” said Sir John. “Now, you approached Teresa O’Reilly in Duke’s Court to complain about this fellow. And what did she say to you?”

“Not a thing, sir. As I come close, she winked her eye and nicked her head at me, as if to say, ‘Move along. Can’t talk now.’ And so that’s what I done. But as I was there, real close to them both, the soldier turned round and looked at me, and I at him.”

“Would you recognize him again?”

“I would, sir.”

“Would you say that Teresa O’Reilly and the soldier were in an acrimonious state?”

“Sir?”

“Were they arguing? Quarrelling?”

“Oh no, sir. I would say Teresa had found herself another gentleman friend.”

“And tell us what happened after your meeting in Duke’s Court. What, to put it direct, did you do then?”

“Why, I just wandered round a bit more. And then, when I was in New Broad Court, I heard the cry of ‘Murder!’ and a terrible commotion that followed. I went down the passage to see what was about, and when they pulled her out from under the stairs, I seen it was Teresa. I knowed it would be her, though I can’t say why.”

“What length of time passed between your meeting with Teresa O’Reilly and the soldier, and the moment you came down the passage and saw her dead?” Sir John asked this in a most severe manner, emphasizing the seriousness of the question.

“I can’t rightly say, sir. Such as me don’t have no timepiece.”

“But when we first talked. Mistress Pratt, you said you had seen the deceased ‘just before’ with a soldier who looked to be a Grenadier Guard.”

‘That’s right.”

“Well, how long was it? A short time? Did you go direct from Duke’s Court to New Broad Court and then hear the alarum, or did you stop someplace along the way?”

“Oh, I stopped. I popped into Shakespeare’s Head, which is a right respectable place. I make ever so many friends there.” Then she added in a reassuring way: “But I didn’t stay long.”

“I can see we have a difficulty on time,” said Sir John to the jury. “But we must get on with this.” Then to Mistress Pratt, who stood yet before him: “Do you see the man who was in the company of the deceased in this room? If so, please point him out.”

She turned and pointed at Private Sperling. “That’s him, at least I think it is. There was two soldiers, as you know, sir.”

“Indeed I do. That will be all, Mistress Pratt.” He conferred a moment with Mr. Marsden, then said he: “Let the record show that Mistress Pratt has pointed out Private Richard Sperling, Grenadier Guards.”

As she walked back to take her place beside Mr. Donnelly, Sir John turned back to the twelve seated on the front benches.

“This matter of two soldiers is easily explained,” said he to them. “In fact, when Mistress Pratt went to the Tower with me early this morning, she did pick out not one but two soldiers as possible candidates. This does not, however, impugn her as a witness, for the two are brothers, and I was told they bear a strong resemblance each to the other. I talked with one of them and satisfied myself for the time being. However, I shall take the opportunity now to confirm the story that I heard earlier from Corporal Otis Sperling with a Corporal Tigger.”

Corporal Tigger rose and stood ready to take his place before Sir John.

“Hold your place. Corporal. Sergeant? Are you here? Give your name, please.”

“I am here, sir,” said he, standing. “Silas Tupper, Sergeant, Grenadier Guards.”

“You may remain where you are, for I have but a question or two for you. Tell me this: Were you charged by Captain Conger to see that Corporal Tigger would say nothing of the matters before this coroner’s court to Private Sperling? That there would be no discussion of it between them at all?”

“I was, sir.”

“And did you carry out that charge?”

“I did. There was absolutely no talk of it at all, the entire time they were together.”

“Good, Sergeant. Thank you. You may be seated. And now. Corporal Tigger, please take your place before me.”

The cutlass he wore rattled a bit in its scabbard as he walked. That and the brace of pistols strapped at his waist made him a most impressive figure. He stated his name as John Tigger, Corporal, Grenadier Guards. Then, at Sir John’s request, he told essentially the same story we had heard from Corporal Sperling. The only difference I perceived was that he was able to be more specific as to the private’s tardy arrival. He said that he had looked at his own timepiece as Corporal Sperling went to meet and scold his brother there at the Coach House Inn, and it placed the younger Sperling’s coming at a quarter past the hour of five. He had remained with the two in the Coach House Inn until they boarded the coach and left for Hammersmith at half past six.