Julian Symons - The Maze

I see. Mr Harrison, you heard the foreman, I think. Perhaps you would give a reply to that question.

I have nothing to add, sir, to the police sergeant’s remarks. I went, as described by the police sergeant, with him to wake Miss Lamort. As he stated, when we told her the news she seemed extremely agitated. During the very few moments she took to attire herself I kept hearing her mutter—we had not quite closed the door—‘My God! My God!’ This was said in a kind of moaning voice, very distressing to hear. When Miss Lamort came downstairs and rushed to Mrs Brunton for comfort, she seemed to collapse completely. She seemed terribly upset. She seemed not to take the news of the calamity nearly so stoically as the members of Mr Brunton’s family. I should perhaps add that throughout the whole of the following day she was confined to her room, during which time she was, so the servants inform me, unable to take any food. I went once or twice myself past her room on that day, and each time I could hear her moaning and muttering words which I could not catch, as I was, of course, merely passing her door about my business … There is no doubt that the tragedy affected her very, very deeply.

I see. Thank you, Mr Harrison. I was going to ask you to stand down just before the jury put that last question to you. Looking down my notes, however, I find there is one further question which I myself wish to put. I’m sorry to keep you so long.

Not at all! Not at all! I am here to do my duty.

Quite! Quite! The last question is this: Was it your habit, as confidential private secretary to Mr Brunton, always to knock at the study door if you thought he was inside the study?

Certainly not, sir! The study was my place of work, and anyhow, if I may say so, it is only household servants who are required to knock at such doors before entering.

And yet, Mr Harrison, during your evidence you made the following statement: you had just said that on your way to the study on Thursday night, or, rather, Friday morning, you saw a light beneath the study door, and then you added, ‘I assumed that Mr Brunton was engaged and so knocked at the door before entering.’ Will you please explain this seeming contradiction to what you have just told the Court?

You put me in a truly embarrassing position, Mr Coroner. I come up here and strive to the best of my ability to give my evidence simply, concisely and above all, truthfully—

Quite, quite! Will you please answer the question? Is the Court to take it that you assume that your employer would not like you to go in at such a time as that without knocking?

If you insist upon my answering that question, Mr Coroner, yes.

You are here to answer questions, Mr Harrison. Will you please now tell the Court the reason for supposing that Mr Brunton would like warning of your entry?

I must answer that question?

Of course. May I suggest, Mr Harrison, that you do not waste our time and your own? So far you have shown no disinclination either to answer questions or to add your own quota to your answers. May I suggest that you continue in this manner?

Very well, sir. Since you insist—since you insist, I say—upon an answer to this question of yours, I am in duty bound to give you an answer. I knocked upon Mr Brunton’s study door because I thought Mr Brunton might not be alone.

And yet, although your errand to the study was only a question of making a diary entry which you had forgotten, you did not, when you saw the light and thought that Mr Brunton might be engaged, go away again without making your presence known?

Really, Mr Coroner, I must take leave to know my own business best! I gave every satisfaction to Mr Brunton—the length of my sojourn with him is enough guarantee of that. I trust that I know my position and what, in that position, I may or may not do. I thought Mr Brunton might be engaged, but, equally, it was possible that he was only, as he very often was until very early hours, reading or writing.

Quite! Quite! Who, Mr Harrison, did you think might be engaged with Mr Brunton? His son? His wife? His daughter?

I am afraid, Mr Coroner, that such conjectures did not enter my head. I am a man who makes a practice of never concerning himself unduly with the private affairs of others, especially those of the employer to whom he owes loyalty.

You had no idea, then, Mr Harrison, of who might be with Mr Brunton? You did not, for instance, listen a moment to see … Please do not misunderstand me. I am not making a suggestion of eavesdropping. You did not, I suppose, listen for a moment to hear if there were voices, or whether you could distinguish those voices?

Most emphatically not, sir!

Thank you.

I would like to say at this juncture—

Please do not trouble, Mr Harrison. I think I can now ask you to stand down—that is, of course, unless any member of the jury has any further questions which he wishes to put to you … I beg your pardon? … Please speak up …

Mr Harrison, I’m not sure whether you heard the question of the jury. They wish to know whether, when you knocked, you expected the person who might be engaged with Mr Brunton to be a man or a woman?

Really, Mr Coroner! I am afraid I am not familiar with this kind of procedure, but I cannot think that it is customary or permissible to—

Mr Harrison, I wish you would get it into your head that this is a court of inquiry. The object of the inquiry is to ascertain how Mr Maxwell Brunton met his death. Petty private feelings and even the ordinary social shibboleths are out of place. When, as a witness, you are asked a question, it is your duty to answer that question as succinctly as you can. I will repeat it in another form: When you knocked on the study door because you thought Mr Maxwell Brunton was ‘engaged,’ did any thought cross your mind as to the sex of his possible companion? Now, please, Mr Harrison, we don’t want your opinion; we want your answer.

Yes, Mr Coroner. I thought that Mr Brunton might have—might have—er—a lady with him.

What lady? Mrs Brunton? Please confine yourself solely to answering my question.

No, not Mrs Brunton. Mrs Brunton is—er—Mrs Brunton hardly ever went into the study.

Who then?

I cannot say, Mr Coroner.

Do you mean ‘can not’ or ‘will not’?

I am not in the habit, Mr Coroner, of using a word in its wrong place. If I say ‘cannot,’ I mean I am unable.

So you intend to inform the Court, first, that you did not think this possible visitor of Mr Brunton’s could be Mrs Brunton, and, second, that it might be any other person of the female sex?

. . . . . .

Come, come, Mr Harrison! Please give us your answer!

As you insist, Mr Coroner, yes.

Do you mean to tell the Court that you thought it possible that a woman other than one of those in the house could be with Mr Brunton?

Good heavens, no! What are you suggesting?

Please spare us your indignation, Mr Harrison. If you did not think, then, that this possible visitor could be a woman from outside, and yet you thought that it was a woman, will you please tell the Court which female member of the household you thought most likely—

Really, Mr Coroner, I cannot—

Please, Mr Harrison! You must remember, sir, if you are at all uncomfortable, that, really, you have brought this upon yourself. Please give an answer to my question. I gather from the general trend of your evidence that the possible woman was not Mrs Brunton nor Mrs Bayford. That leaves us, I think, with Miss Lamort and the servants, Mrs Jennings, Jeannette Bokay, and Violet Burrage—