Dennis Wheatley - The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

And Roger's solitary blue one, for the other was now almost closed in a great purple bruise, replied: "Courage, Georgina, courage! All is not yet lost. But if we have to swing, we'll swing together!"

Ten o'clock came and the judge was still talking. Roger had his watch out lying in front of him on the table. Every other moment he glanced at it and the long hand seemed to leap from minute to-minute; five past, ten past, a quarter past, twenty past, twenty-five past. Still the judge was speaking, yet still the faces that Roger was so desperately anxious to see failed to appear among the crowd that packed the doorway.

At half-past Colonel Thursby leaned over and whispered in Roger's ear: "I think he is near through; and I doubt if our agony will be greatly prolonged by the jury."

Roger knew that he referred to the general tendency that the sum­ming-up had taken. The judge had been scrupulously fair, but the dominant motif of his instruction to the jury was that—if they reached the conclusion that the cut-glass scent-bottle could have struck Sir Humphrey Etheredge upon the head only through the agency of the prisoner's hand, and that she had thrown it at him with deliberate intent to cause him an injury, then her act had resulted in wilful murder, and they would have no alternative but to return a verdict of "Guilty."

In his hour-and-a-half's review of the evidence those questions had been answered beyond further dispute, so it now seemed certain that the jury would be absent only for a few minutes before returning such a verdict. That was the thought in the Colonel's mind, and Roger would have given a very great deal to be able to give him some comfort, by telling him that he had dispatched Droopy Ned on an attempt to induce Vorontzoff to appear in court and make a fresh statement. But he dared not raise the distraught father's hopes, because he was far from certain that Droopy would succeed in his mission; as, however justifiable in this particular case, it would prove no easy matter to persuade the Russian to come into court and bear false witness. All Roger could do was to write a note and pass it across to Georgina's leading counsel.

At twenty-five to eleven the judge concluded his address, and he was just about to instruct the jury to retire to consider their verdict when Georgina's counsel rose with the note in his hand, and said:

"My lord. I crave your indulgence to produce a new witness. My excuse for not putting him in the box at an earlier stage of the trial is that he returned from abroad only yesterday. But he is a Mr. Roger Brook, whom your lordship will recall as having already been named in this case among the members of the house-party that has been the subject of this inquiry. I therefore submit that his testimony may prove highly relevant, and pray that your lordship will be pleased to hear him."

Georgina had come to her feet with a half-strangled cry. Leaning out of the dock she wrung her hands towards the judge and gasped imploringly: "I beg you, Sir, not to hear this gentleman! He can know nothing of the matter! Nothing!"

There was an excited rustle among the crowd, then the judge waved her sternly back to her seat and said quietly to counsel: "You may swear your witness."

* * * * *

As Georgina sank back on to her chair and burst into a flood of tears, Roger stepped up into the witness-box and was duly sworn. Then counsel for the defence asked him to tell the court anything that he could relating to Sir Humphrey Etheredge's death.

It was now a quarter to eleven. Roger's hopes that Droopy would arrive with Vorontzoff were fast dinunishing. But as long as Droopy did not appear alone, to announce failure, there was still a chance that the two of them might make a belated appearance. So Roger meant to gain a little more time by giving irrelevant evidence to start with.

He thought that he might be able to keep it up for about a quarter of an hour, but by eleven o'clock Droopy would have had nearly an hour and a half in which to plead with and threaten the Russian, and if by eleven they were not in court, it could only be because Vorontzoff had proved adamant, and Droopy was too distressed at his failure to come and admit it.

In that case Roger had determined to make a clean breast of the whole affair, in the slender hope that the jury might disagree as to whether Georgina throwing the scent-bottle or his striking Sir Humphrey over the heart had been the real cause of death. Owing to the ensuing doubts as to which of them had inflicted the fatal injury they might get off with transportation for life, if not they would die as they had lived and go bravely side by side in the death-cart to Tyburn.

To begin with he spoke of his first meeting with Georgina. Of her lonely childhood and unhappy upbringing from the fact that all her neighbours in the county had ostracised her on account of her gipsy blood. The judge heard him patiently at first and then began to fiddle restlessly with his nosegay. Roger saw that he must soon come to more cogent matters, and was preparing to start on the story of the fatal week-end when there was a sudden stir in the doorway of the court.

With his heart in his mouth Roger stopped speaking and stared in that direction. To his bitter disappointment it was only a messenger, but the message was for him, and an usher brought it over to the witness-box.

Having asked the judge's permission he read it. The folded paper bore a scrawl by Droopy Ned which ran:

"When I reached the Russian Embassy I learned that Vorontzoff had already gone out, to spend the day at Richmond. I have gone after him."

Roger drew his hand across his eyes. This was too terrible. Every­thing still hung in the balance. Droopy might yet succeed in bringing the Russian to the Old Bailey, but, perhaps not for another hour or so. On the other hand Vorontzoff might refuse to come, so it was impossible to tell the judge that another witness was still being sought for. There was only one thing to do. Somehow he must spin out his evidence without finally committing himself until the very last possible moment.

It was eleven o'clock as he resumed his tale. He spoke of Georgina's unfailing generosity and of her kindness to her servants; then when he saw that the judge was getting restless again he brought in her strange gift of second sight, and managed to intrigue the court for some minutes by giving examples of it.

Where the minutes had flown during the judge's summing up they now seemed to drag interminably, and Roger had never realised before how many words had to be spoken to fill sixty seconds.

For some twelve minutes the judge listened to him without comment, then he suddenly coughed, and said: "None of this is relevant. The witness must confine himself to facts affecting the case."

Roger murmured an apology and was forced to start on the house-party at Stillwaters. On coming into court that morning he had felt ghastly. The torn muscles of his shoulder throbbed and nagged, seeming to thrust their pain down into his backbone and chest. His swollen eye felt as big as a cricket ball, and his head ached intolerably. But now, in the intensity of his effort to hold the interest of the court he forgot all his pains and injuries. He was a natural orator and an excellent raconteur, and as he described the house and guests it was clear that everyone in court was following the picture that he drew with the closest attention.

But by half-past eleven there was no more that he could say without getting to the meat of the matter. For a few minutes he attempted to hold his audience with an account of witty remarks that Fox and Selwyn had made over dinner, but the judge rapped sharply on his desk and said sternly:

"This is not material evidence. The witness is wasting the time of the court. He must come to the point or stand down."