Arthur & George

'There is no need to apologize.'

'There is. I have allowed us to stray far from the matter in hand. To business again. May I ask if there is anyone you suspect of the crime?'

'Which one?'

'All of them. The persecutions. The forged letters. The rippings – not just of the Colliery pony, but all the others.'

'To be perfectly honest, Sir Arthur, for the last three years I and those who have supported me have been more concerned with proving my innocence than anyone else's guilt.'

'Understandably. But a connection inevitably exists. So is there anyone you might suspect?'

'No. No one. Everything was done anonymously. And I cannot imagine who would take pleasure in mutilating animals.'

'You had enemies in Great Wyrley?'

'Evidently. But unseen ones. I had few acquaintances there, whether friend or foe. We did not go out into local society.'

'Why not?'

'I have only recently begun to understand why not. At the time, as a child, I assumed it to be normal. The truth is, my parents had very little money, and what they had, they spent on their children's education. I did not miss going to other boys' houses. I was a happy child, I think.'

'Yes.' This seems less than the full answer. 'But, I presume, given your father's origins-'

'Sir Arthur, I should like to make one thing quite clear. I do not believe that race prejudice has anything to do with my case.'

'I have to say that you surprise me.'

'My father believes that I would not have suffered as I did if I had been, for instance, the son of Captain Anson. That is certainly true. But in my view the matter is a red herring. Go to Wyrley and ask the villagers if you do not believe me. At all events, if any prejudice exists, it is confined to a very small section of the community. There has been an occasional slight, but what man does not suffer that, in some form or another?'

'I understand your desire not to play the martyr-'

'No, it is not that, Sir Arthur.' George stops, and looks momentarily embarrassed. 'Is that what I should be calling you, by the way?'

'You may call me that. Or Doyle if you prefer.'

'I think I prefer Sir Arthur. As you may imagine, I have thought a great deal about this matter. I was brought up as an Englishman. I went to school, I studied the law, I did my articles, I became a solicitor. Did anyone try to hold me back from this progress? On the contrary. My schoolmasters encouraged me, the partners at Sangster, Vickery amp; Speight took notice of me, my father's congregation uttered words of praise when I qualified. No clients refused my advice at Newhall Street on the grounds of my origin.'

'No, but-'

'Let me continue. There have been, as I said, occasional slights. There were teasings and jokes. I am not so naive as to be unaware that some people look at me differently. But I am a lawyer, Sir Arthur. What evidence do I have that anyone has acted against me because of race prejudice? Sergeant Upton used to try and frighten me, but no doubt he frightened other boys as well. Captain Anson clearly took a dislike to me, without ever having met me. What concerned me more about the police was their lack of competence. For example, they themselves, despite covering the district with special constables, never discovered a single mutilated animal. These events were always reported to them by the farmers, or by men going to work. I was not the only person to conclude that the police were afraid of the so-called Gang, even if they were quite unable to prove its existence.

'So if you are proposing that my ordeal has been caused by race prejudice, then I must ask you for your evidence. I do not recall Mr Disturnal ever alluding to the subject. Or Sir Reginald Hardy. Did the jury find me guilty because of my skin? That is too easy an answer. And I might add that during my years in prison I was fairly treated by the staff and the other inmates.'

'If I may make a suggestion,' replied Sir Arthur. 'Perhaps you should try occasionally not to think like a lawyer. The fact that no evidence of a phenomenon can be adduced does not mean that it does not exist.'

'Agreed.'

'So, when the persecutions began against your family, did you believe – do you believe – you were random victims?'

'Probably not. But others were victims too.'

'Only of the letter writing. None suffered as you did.'

'True. But it would be quite unsound to deduce from this the purpose and motive of those involved. Perhaps my father – who can be severe in person – rebuked some farm boy for stealing apples, or blaspheming.'

'You think something like that to be the start of it?'

'I have no idea. But I will not, I am afraid, stop thinking like a lawyer. It is what I am. And as a lawyer I require evidence.'

'Perhaps others can see what you cannot.'

'No doubt. But it is also a question of what is useful. It is not useful to me as a general principle of life to assume that those with whom I have dealings have a secret dislike of me. And at the present juncture, it is no use imagining that if only the Home Secretary were to become convinced that race prejudice lies at the heart of the case, then I shall have my pardon and the compensation to which you allude. Or perhaps, Sir Arthur, you believe Mr Gladstone himself to be afflicted with that prejudice?'

'I have absolutely no… evidence of that. Indeed, I very much doubt it.'

'Then please let us drop the subject.'

'Very well.' Arthur is impressed by such firmness – indeed, stubbornness. 'I should like to meet your parents. Also your sister. Discreetly, however. My instinct is always to go directly at things, but there are times when tactics and even bluff are necessary. As Lionel Amery likes to say, if you fight with a rhinoceros, you don't want to tie a horn to your nose.' George is baffled by this analogy, but Arthur does not notice. 'I doubt it would help our cause if I were to be seen tramping the district with you or a member of your family. I need a contact, an acquaintance in the village. Perhaps you can suggest one.'

'Harry Charlesworth,' replies George automatically, just as if facing Great-Aunt Stoneham, or Greenway and Stentson. 'Well, we sat next to one another at school. I pretended he was my friend. We were the two clever boys. My father used to rebuke me for not being friendlier with the farm boys, but frankly there was little contact possible. Harry Charlesworth has taken over the running of his father's dairy. He has an honest reputation.'

'You say you had little society with the village?'

'And they little with me. In truth, Sir Arthur, I always intended, after qualifying, to live in Birmingham. I found Wyrley – between ourselves – a dull and backward place. At first I continued living at home, fearing to break the news to my parents, ignoring the village except for necessities. Having boots repaired, for example. And then gradually I found myself, not exactly trapped, but living so much within my family that it was becoming harder and harder to even think of leaving. And I am very attached to my sister Maud. So that was my position until… all that you know was done to me. After I was released from prison, it was naturally impossible for me to return to Staffordshire. So now I am in London. I have lodgings in Mecklenburgh Square, with Miss Goode. My mother was with me in the first weeks after my release. But Father needs her at home. She comes down when she can be spared to see how I am faring. My life-' George pauses for a moment, 'my life, as you can see, is in abeyance.'