The Coroner: ‘You were in the habit of going to see him?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘Constantly.’
The Coroner: ‘You lived with him at Solway Lodge until the time of your marriage?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘Yes.’
The Coroner: ‘I must ask you, Mr. Grey, whether your relations with your uncle were of a cordial nature?’
At this point the witness appeared distressed. He said in a low voice, ‘Very cordial – affectionate.’
The Coroner: ‘And there had been no quarrel?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘No – none.’
The Coroner: ‘Then how do you account for his destroying the will under which you benefited and making a new will in which your name does not appear?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘I can’t account for it.’
The Coroner: ‘You know that he made a new will on the morning of July 16th?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘I know it now – I didn’t know it then.’
The Coroner: ‘You didn’t know it when you went to see him?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘No.’
The Coroner: ‘Or that he had destroyed the will under which you benefited? You are on oath, Mr. Grey. Do you still say that you did not know of any change in his will?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘I had no idea.’
The Coroner: ‘He did not tell you about it over the telephone?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘No.’
The Coroner: ‘Or after you got down to Putney?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘When I got down to Putney he was dead.’
The Coroner: ‘You say you reached Solway Lodge at twenty minutes past eight?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘It would be about that. I didn’t look at the time.’
The Coroner: ‘The house stands by itself in about two acres of ground, and is approached by a short drive?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘Yes.’
The Coroner: ‘Will you tell us how you approached the house?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘I came up the drive which leads to the front door, but I didn’t go up to the door – I turned to the right and skirted the house. The study is at the back, with a glass door leading into the garden. The door was wide open, as I expected it to be.’
A Juryman: ‘Were the curtains drawn?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘Oh, no. It was broad daylight – very fine and warm.’
The Coroner: ‘Go on, Mr. Grey. You entered the study – ’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘I went in. I was expecting my uncle to meet me. I didn’t see him at once. It was much darker in the room than it was outside. I stumbled over something, and saw the pistol lying on the ground at my feet. I picked it up without thinking what I was doing. And then I saw my uncle.’
The Juryman: ‘First you said it was broad daylight, and now you say it was dark in the room. We’d like to hear something more about that.’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘I didn’t say it was dark in the room – I said it was darker than it was outside. It was very bright outside, and I’d had the sun in my eyes coming round the house.’
The Coroner: ‘Go, on, Mr. Grey. You say you saw Mr. Everton – ’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘He had fallen across his desk. I thought he had fainted. I went nearer, and I saw that he was dead. I touched him -he was quite dead. Then I heard a scream, and someone tried the door. I found it was locked, with the key on the inside. I unlocked it. The Mercers were there. They seemed to think I had shot my uncle.’
The Coroner: “The pistol was still in your hand?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘Yes – I had forgotten about it.’
The Coroner: ‘This is the pistol?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘Yes.’
The Coroner: ‘It has been identified as your property. Have you anything to say about that?’
Geoffrey Grey: It belongs to me, but it has not been in my possession for a year. I left it at Solway Lodge when I got married. I left a lot of my things there. We were taking a flat, and there was no room for anything that was not in use.’
The Juryman: ‘We would like to know why you had a pistol.’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘My uncle gave it to me about two years ago. I was going on a holiday trip in eastern Europe. There was some talk of brigands, and he wanted me to take a pistol. I never had any occasion to use it.’
The Coroner: ‘Are you a good shot?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘I am a fair shot.’
The Coroner: ‘At a target?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘At a target.’
The Coroner: ‘You could hit a man across a room?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘I have never tried.’
The Coroner: ‘Mr. Grey – when you were coming up the drive and skirting the house, did you meet anyone?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘No.’
The Coroner: ‘Did you hear the sound of a shot?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘No.’
The Coroner: ‘You saw nothing and heard nothing as you approached the study?’
Geoffrey Grey: ‘Nothing.’
Why couldn’t he have heard someone or seen someone as he came up to the house on that fine warm evening? The murderer couldn’t have been very far away. Why couldn’t Geoff have come across him, or at least have caught a glimpse of him as he ran?… Why? Because he had taken very good care that Geoff shouldn’t see him. Because he knew that Geoff shouldn’t see him. Because he knew that Geoff was coming. Because he knew that James Everton had rung him up, and that it would take him a quarter of an hour to get to Solway Lodge, so that the murderer had a quarter of an hour in which to shoot James Everton and get clear away. Of course Geoff hadn’t heard anything or, seen anyone – the murderer would take very good care of that. But the Mercers must have heard the shot. Long before Mrs. Mercer came down the stairs and screamed in the hall, and Mercer came running from the pantry where he was cleaning the silver. Marion had said he was cleaning it – the stuff was all over his hands. But he didn’t leave his silver, and Mrs. Mercer didn’t scream, until Geoff was in the study with the pistol in his hand.
There was a lot of technical evidence about the pistol. The bullet that killed James Everton had certainly been fired from it. Geoff’s finger-prints were on it. Of course they were. He picked it up, didn’t he? But there were no other finger-prints. There were no other finger-prints. So it couldn’t be suicide. Even if Geoff hadn’t stuck to that awkward bit of evidence about stumbling over the pistol just inside the window. They made a lot of that at the trial, she remembered, because the glass door was eight or nine feet from’the desk and James Everton must have died at once. So that even apart from the finger-prints, on Geoff’s own evidence, suicide was out of the question.
Hilary drew a long sighing breath.
The Mercers must be lying, because it was a choice between them and Geoff. But the jury had believed them, both at the inquest and at the trial.
She read Marion ’s evidence… Nothing there. Just a few questions and answers. But Hilary had a heart-wringing picture of Marion standing up and taking the oath and giving those answers. She and Geoff had been so utterly, absolutely happy. Their happiness was like a shining light which they took with them wherever they went, and it made everyone else happy, too. And in that dark, crowded court-room the light was going out. It was a hot sunny day outside – the papers kept on referring to the heat – but in that horrible crowded room Marion and Geoffrey were watching the light go out.
The Coroner: ‘You were present when your husband was rung up on the evening of the sixteenth?’
Marion Grey: ‘Yes.’
The Coroner: ‘Did you notice the time?’
Marion Grey: ‘Yes – the clock was striking eight. He waited for it to finish striking before he lifted the receiver.’
The Coroner: ‘What did you hear?’
Marion Grey: ‘I heard Mr. Everton asking my husband to come down to Solway Lodge.’
The Coroner: ‘Do you mean that you could actually hear what Mr. Everton was saying?’