Freeman Crofts - Inspector French and the Starvel Hollow Tragedy

With her heart beating rapidly she left her seat and entered the little pulpit-like enclosure. There she stood while the sergeant repeated a phrase about truth, and then, having given her name, she was told to sit down. The coroner bent towards her.

‘I am sorry, Miss Averill,’ he said kindly, ‘to have to ask you to attend and give evidence in this tragic inquiry, but I promise you I shall not keep you longer than I can help. Now, Sergeant.’

In spite of this reassuring beginning, Ruth soon began to think Sergeant Kent’s questions would never cease.

Half the things he asked seemed to have no connection whatever with the tragedy. She stated that she was the late Simon Averill’s niece, the daughter of his brother Theodore, that she was aged twenty, and that she had come to Starvel when she was four. She told of her schooldays in Leeds, saying that it was now over a year since she had returned to Starvel and that she had lived there ever since.

Her uncle had recently been in very poor health. She thought his heart was affected. At all events, to save climbing the stairs he had had a room on the first floor fitted up as a bed-sitting room. For the last year he had not been downstairs and some days he did not get up. Recently he had been particularly feeble, and she told of his condition when she saw him two mornings before the tragedy. Then she described her visit to York, mentioning Mrs Palmer-Gore’s invitation and the episode of the ten pounds.

There seemed no end to Sergeant Kent’s inquisition. He switched over next to the subject of the house and elicited the facts that her uncle’s and the Ropers’ beds were situated in the extremities of the southern and western wings respectively.

‘You heard the last witness describe where the bodies were found,’ he went on. ‘Would I be correct in saying that if Mr Averill and the Ropers had been in bed when the fire took place their bodies would have been found in just those positions?’

Ruth assented, and then the sergeant asked how the house was lighted. There was oil, Ruth told him, oil for the lamps other than Mr Averill’s and for the cooker which was used sometimes instead of the range. There was also petrol. Her uncle’s sight was bad and he used a petrol lamp. The oil and petrol were kept in a cellar. This cellar was under the main building, and if a fire were to start there, in her opinion the whole house would become involved. The lamps were attended to by Roper, who had always been most careful in handling them.

‘Now Miss Averill,’ the sergeant became more impressive than ever, ‘I think you said that during the last fourteen months, when you were living at Starvel, Roper and his wife were in charge of the house?’

‘Yes, they were there when I came back from school.’

‘Now, tell me, during all that time have you ever known either of them the worse for drink?’

‘Oh, no,’ Ruth answered, surprised at the question. ‘No, never.’

‘You have never even noticed the smell of drink from either of them?’ the sergeant persisted.

‘No.’ Ruth hesitated. ‘At least—that is—’

‘Yes?’ went on the sergeant encouragingly.

‘Once or twice Roper has smelt of whisky, but he was never the least bit the worse of it.’

‘But you have smelt it. Was that recently?’

‘Yes, but Roper explained about it. He said he felt a cold coming on and had taken some whisky in the hope of getting rid of it.’

‘Quite so. And how long ago was that?’

‘A couple of times within the last fortnight, perhaps once or twice before that.’ But to Ruth her answer did not seem quite fair, and she added: ‘But he was as sober as you and I are. I never saw him the least bit drunk.’

‘I follow you,’ the sergeant answered, and began to ask questions about Mrs Roper. Here Ruth could truthfully say that she had never even smelled drink, and she insisted on giving each of the deceased an excellent character.

The sergeant next attempted to draw from her an opinion as to how the fire might have originated. Did Mr Averill read late in bed? Might he have knocked over his petrol lamp? Could he have fallen in the fire? Did he take a nightcap of whisky? And so forth. But Ruth had no ideas on the subject. Any accident might have happened, of course, but she didn’t think any that he had suggested were likely. As to her uncle taking drink, he was a strict teetotaller.

This ended Ruth’s examination. None of the jurors wished to ask her any questions, and after her evidence had been read over to her and she had signed it, she was allowed to return to her seat with the Oxleys.

Dr Emerson was the next witness. He deposed that he had examined the remains disinterred from the debris. It was, of course, quite impossible to identify them, but so far as he could form an opinion of the body found in the southern wing it was that of an elderly, tall, slightly built man and the others were those of a man and a woman of medium height and middle age. These would correspond to Mr Averill and the Ropers respectively, and so far as he was concerned he had no doubt whatever that the bodies in question were theirs.

Questioned as to the conditions obtaining at Starvel before the fire, Dr Emerson said that for the last four years he had not attended Mr Averill. At his advancing age he found it too much to visit outlying patients, and Dr Philpot had taken over almost all of them.

‘Is Dr Philpot here?’ the coroner asked.

‘Dr Philpot is suffering from influenza at present,’ Dr Emerson returned, though it was to Sergeant Kent that the question had been addressed. ‘I saw him this morning. He wished to attend, but I persuaded him not to run the risk. It would have been most unwise. He had a temperature of over 101.’

‘I’m sorry to hear he is laid up. But I don’t suppose he could have helped us. I should have liked to ask him about Mr Averill’s condition and so forth, but it doesn’t really matter.’

‘Well,’ Dr Emerson returned, ‘I can tell you a little about that, if I should be in order in mentioning it. I attended him for some eight years, during the last two of which he aged very considerably, growing slowly and steadily weaker. Without going into details I may say that he had an incurable complaint which must eventually have killed him. Four years ago he was already feeble, and since then he can only have become gradually worse.’

‘Thank you, Dr Emerson, that was what I wanted to know. Would you say that his condition rendered him liable to sudden weakness during which he might have dropped his lamp or had some similar accident?’

‘I should say so decidedly.’

A Miss Judith Carr was next called. She proved to be a rather loudly-dressed young woman whom Ruth had not seen before. She was pretty in a coarse way, and entered the witness-box and took her seat with evident self-confidence.

Her name, she admitted heartily, was Judith Carr, and she was barmaid at the Thirsdale Arms, the largest hotel in Thirsby. She knew Mr Roper, the attendant at Starvel. He occasionally called for a drink, usually taking one or at most two small whiskies. She remembered the evening of the fire. That evening about seven o’clock Mr Roper had come into the bar. He seemed to have had some drink, but was not drunk. He asked for a small Scotch, and believing he was sober enough she had given it to him. He had taken it quickly and gone out.

The last witness was a young man with bright red hair who answered to the name of George Mellowes. He was, he said, a farmer living at Ivybridge, a hamlet lying some miles beyond Starvel. On the day before the tragedy he had been over in Thirsby on business, and he had left the town in his gig shortly after seven to drive home. He had not passed beyond the lights of the town when he had overtaken Mr Roper, whom he knew. Roper was staggering, and it was not difficult to see that he was drunk. The deceased was by no means incapable, but he had undoubtedly taken too much. Mellowes had stopped and offered him a lift, and Roper had thanked him and with some difficulty had climbed into the gig. He had talked in a maudlin way during the drive. Mellowes had gone a little out of his way and had set the other down at the gate of Starvel. Roper had opened the gate without difficulty, and had set off towards the house, walking fairly straight. Mellowes had then driven home. That was close on to eight, and there was no sign then of a fire.