“He said the two of them were duelling and ‘I did my best to kill the-’ ” Stanhope looked at Thornton, then up at the judge.
“You must repeat the exact word, sir, repellent as it must be to this civilized audience,” Thornton said with disingenuous solemnity.
“ ‘To kill the bastard.’ ”
The spectators-most of whom had heard the word used once or twice and had even uttered it themselves when occasion demanded it-susurrated in shock.
“We will hear testimony a little later, sir, from one of our own police constables concerning these very events and utterances, during which it will be revealed that you initially attempted to suggest to the authorities, who had arrived just before you, that what they were seeing was perhaps a mere game or charade. Why would a man of your standing do such a thing?”
The colonel hung his head for a necessary millisecond, then looked up and said forcefully, “Young Billy McNair was the best sergeant in my regiment, a sort of protégé whom I looked upon almost as a son. My first instincts were those of a father, I suppose, trying to protect his offspring. But it was clear to all that what had happened in the garden was in earnest, and I made no effort to continue my initial and less than honourable behaviour.”
“You hold honour to be among the highest of virtues?”
“As an officer in Her Majesty’s militia, I cannot do otherwise.”
My word, Marc thought, Thornton is setting the man up as a saint, and Stanhope has become the master of the quick mea culpa and recovery. Both men would be a challenge for Doubtful Dick, even if he had managed to haul himself upright, ambulatory, and alert sometime in the past five days.
“You’ve missed the earlier testimony about Billy and all that bother about the battle down there,” Clement Peachey whispered to Marc.
With the valour and genius of the Pelee Island Patriot duly noted, Marc thought ruefully.
Thornton had now moved on to the most incriminating moment of the duel’s aftermath. “Again, Colonel, the defendant’s exact words, if you please.” He smiled grimly, as if braced for syllables even a seasoned counsellor ought never to hear.
“He shouted out, ‘I’m going to kill the bugger, hanging’s too good for him’-meaning Major Coltrane.”
Thornton rewarded Stanhope with a grateful grin, then turned to the jury and shrugged his shoulders in mock helplessness. All eyes swivelled up to scrutinize the young blasphemer.
“And even though this infamous duel and the threats it engendered took place in your own garden and involved a man you assumed to be safely locked in his cell in your basement, you are swearing here on your oath that you knew nothing about it until you and Mr. Shad arrived on the scene after the exchange of shots?”
“That is correct. I was shocked and dismayed.”
“Did you subsequently learn from one of your household how the prisoner, Mr. Coltrane, was able to come into possession of one of your own pistols?”
“Hearsay!” It was the first word that Marc, or any other in the chamber, had heard Dougherty utter. The defense had waived opening argument, not having as yet a coherent one to offer.
Chief Justice Robinson frowned at the interjection, as if he had been telling a particularly good story at a garden party and been rudely interrupted, but said with polite deference to the prosecutor, “Try getting there another way, Mr. Thornton.”
“Did you subsequently recognize the pistols as your own?”
“I did.”
“Did you publicly upbraid Lieutenant Lardner Bostwick that morning for allegedly facilitating the duel?”
“I did. I threatened to have him drummed out of the regiment for insubordination.”
“And he left your service, I believe, two days later-that is, on Wednesday evening of last week?”
“Yes. And I was compelled to assign Mr. Shad the task of jailer until I could replace Lieutenant Bostwick.”
“Thank you for your forthrightness, Colonel.”
Stanhope beamed. A triumph at the Twelfth Night gala and now this. Whatever sympathy and support Billy might have among the ordinary citizens in attendance here, no blame for his undeserved fate would attach to the man who had treated him like a son.
Thornton now moved on to Thursday, the day of the murder. As background for the jury, and in the absence of Bostwick, who had not been flushed by either side, Stanhope was encouraged to describe the jailing arrangements, his reinforcement of the prison chamber, Bostwick’s duties, and the strict protocol placed on the unusual number of visitors.
“Is it not unorthodox, Colonel, for a criminal to be incarcerated in an officer’s home and then to be offered a variety of privileges such as you provided the victim?”
Stanhope seemed delighted with the question. “It is, sir, if one looks upon Major Coltrane as a common felon. I did not. He was to all intents and purposes the commander-in-chief of an invading army and distinguished himself in two separate engagements. In a more gentlemanly world he would have given me his parole and I would have offered him the keys to my estate. As it was, I considered the basement chamber I provided, the carefully screened visitors, and the proper food a compromise. It was to me a matter of honour to accept a military adversary as such and treat him as a gentleman. The courts are the place to judge his misdemeanours, not my home.”
Despite the universal animosity to Coltrane, the murmuring among the side galleries was wholly approving.
“Thus it was that on that fateful Thursday, Mr. Coltrane received several visitors. Did you personally greet them?”
“Only Alderman Boynton Tierney, who had been there three or four times before. I met him briefly because Shad was new to the business of keeping jail, and I wished to walk him through the procedures.”
“Like having Mr. Tierney sign the visitor’s book, which is an exhibit in this trial?”
“Precisely. I happened to be in the hall when Mr. Tierney left at ten forty-five or so. We said our good-byes, and as no other visitors were scheduled till the afternoon, I left the house to keep an appointment at my tailor’s.”
“But the book-which milord has before you-shows that a Mrs. Jones from Streetsville did arrive at eleven o’clock that morning and sign in.”
“I know nothing of the visit or the lady herself.”
“Nor does anyone else!” Thornton cried, with a little pirouette behind his lectern, and received a few cautious titters for his remark. To the jury he said, “Mr. Shad, whom we shall call shortly, may shed more light on this mysterious incognita.” He paused, like a bad tragedian before a soliloquy, then moved the jury towards the afternoon visit of Billy McNair.
“What occurred below the main floor of your home that Thursday after luncheon will be detailed by two witnesses to come, but your testimony in regard to what transpired only moments after those events-”
“Milord, there’s been no testimony as to these putative events!” Dougherty again, rising almost imperceptibly.
The judge did not look his way but leaned over towards Thornton and said cordially, “Just take the witness through what he observed, if you please.”
“My apologies, milord. Now Colonel, where were you when you heard a commotion about one-thirty on the day in question?”
“I was sitting with Chief Constable Sturges in my study while we waited for Billy McNair to finish his authorized visit to Major Coltrane.”
Thornton winced at the word “authorized” but did not go in that dangerous direction, for the governor’s eagle-eyed staff was seated two rows behind him on the VIP benches. Thornton then led the colonel through an account of Billy’s escapade in the hallway-whom he saw and where and in what sequence. Marc braced for what he knew must come.
“Describe the defendant’s actions when you first saw him in your vestibule.”
“He was excited and shouting for a doctor, waving his arms frantically, and pushing his way towards the front door. He knocked Constable Cobb aside, and as the sentries came in to see what the ruckus was, Billy bumped into one of them, fell to one side, and nearly toppled the hall tree. He regained his balance and started pawing at the coats and hats. He seemed hysterical.”