The Judas Window

The little judge looked round slightly. 'Counsel asks you,' said Mr Justice Rankin, 'whether there were any holes in the walls.' It was a soft, even voice: and you awoke to several things. You suddenly became aware of a sort of concentrated common sense, whittling down all things to their real values. You also became aware of absolute mastery, which the whole court felt. The judge, sitting perched out on the edge of his tall chair, kept his head round until the witness said: 'Holes, my lord? No holes'; then he blinked at Mr Lawton with some curiosity; and then the pen in his plump hand continued to travel steadily over his notebook.

'There was not,' pursued counsel, murmuring a formula, 'even a crevice large enough to admit the shaft of an arrow?'

'No, sir. Nothing of the kind.'

'Thank you.'

There was no cross-examination; H.M. only shook his head and humped the shoulders of his gown. He was sitting down there in the same immobile fashion, and you might hope that he was not glaring in his usual malevolent way at the jury.

'Call Amelia Jordan.'

They brought Miss Jordan into the witness-box, that narrow roofed-over cubicle which stands in the right angle between the jury-box and the judge's bench. Ordinarily she must have been a calm and competent woman. But she stumbled in going up the steps to the box, and was on the edge of a bad state of nerves when she took the oath. Whether nerves caused this stumble, or the stumble itself caused the nerves, we could not telclass="underline" but she flushed a dull colour. Also, she had manifestly been ill. Amelia Jordan was in her early or middle forties. She had the remains of solid, easy good looks shrivelled a little from their pleasantness by illness, but not detracted from by those stream-lined chromium spectacles which contrive to suggest that no spectacles are there at all. She had no-nonsense brown hair and no-nonsense blue eyes. Her clothes caused favourable comment from the two women behind us. She was wearing black, I remember, with a black hat whose brim had a peak like a cap.

'Your name is Flora Amelia Jordan?' ‘Yes.'

The reply came out in a quick throat-clearing, of her voice trying to find its proper level. Without looking at the judge or the jury on either side of her, she fixed her eyes on the soothing figure of Mr Huntley Lawton, who was putting forth his fullest personality.

'You were Mr Hume's confidential secretary?'

'Yes. That is - no, I have not been his secretary for a long time. I mean, he had no use for a secretary after he left - That is, I kept house for him. It was better than having a paid housekeeper.'

'My lord and the jury quite understand,' said counsel, with a gentle heartiness. Her last words had come out in a rush, and he was even more soothing. 'You were a sort of relation, I take it?'

'No, no, we were not related. We -'

'We quite understand, Miss Jordan. How long had you been with him?'

'Fourteen years.'

'You knew him intimately?'

'Oh, yes, very.'

The first part of Miss Jordan's examination was taken up with producing and proving two letters dealing with Mary Hume's engagement, one from the girl to her father, and one from her father to her. The first of these Miss Jordan had seen; the second, she explained, she had helped to write. Characters emerged. To judge by her letter, Mary Hume was impulsive, flighty, and a little incoherent, just as you would have imagined from the photograph of the blonde with wide-set eyes which had adorned the Daily Express that morning; but with a streak of strong practicality in her nature. Avory Hume showed himself as kindly and cautious, with a taste for preaching in pedantic terms. Above all, one idea seemed to delight him. 'I trust I do not anticipate the future too many years when I say that I am certain I shall one day have a grandson -'

(At this moment the man in the dock went as white as a ghost.)

'- and I am so certain of this, my dear daughter, that I mean to leave everything I have in trust for the son I know you will have; and .1 am certain that I can look forward to many years of a happy life in the company of all of you.'

There was some uneasy coughing. Answell in the dock sat with his head inclined a little forward, regarding his hands on his knees. Mr Huntley Lawton continued the examination of Amelia Jordan.

'Do you recall any particular comments Mr Hume made on the engagement in general?'

'Yes, he kept saying: "This is a very satisfactory business, I could not wish for anything better." I always said: "But do you know anything about Mr Answell?" He said: "Yes, he is a fine young man; I knew his mother, and she was very sound." Or words to that effect.'

'In other words, he regarded the prospect of the marriage as definitely settled?'

'Well, we thought so.'

'We?'

'The doctor and I. Dr Spencer Hume. At least I thought so; I can't speak for anyone else.'

'Now, Miss Jordan,' said counsel, and paused. 'Between December 31st and January 4th, did you observe any change in Mr Hume's attitude?'

'Yes, I did.'

'When did you first observe a change?'

'On that Saturday morning, the Saturday he died.'

'Will you tell us what you observed?'

She was calm enough now, under Mr Lawton's hypnotic manner. She spoke in a low but quite audible voice. At first she did not know what to do with her hands: putting them on and off the rail of the dock, and finally clasping them determinedly on the rail. When she spoke of the letter she had helped to write, her eyes had a dry and sanded look; she was keeping back tears with difficulty,

'It was like this,'-she began. 'On the Friday it had been arranged that Dr Spencer Hume and I should go down and spend the week-end with Mary's friends in Sussex. It was to congratulate Mary in person, really. We were to drive down; but we could not start until late Saturday afternoon, because Dr Hume is attached to the staff of St Praed's hospital, and could not get away until late. On Friday evening Mary rang up her father on the telephone from Sussex, and I told her about it. I must tell you all this because -'

Counsel urged her along gently. 'Was Mr Avory Hume to go with you and the doctor on this week-end?

'No, he could not. He had some business to do on Sunday, I think it was Presbyterian Church accounts or the like; and he could not. But he said to give everyone his regards, and we were going to bring Mary back with us.'

‘I see. And on Saturday morning, Miss Jordan?'

'On Saturday morning,' answered the witness, pouring out what had been on her mind for a long time, 'at the breakfast-table, there was a letter from Mary. I knew it was from Mary because of the handwriting. And I wondered why she had written, because she had talked to her father last night.'

‘What has become of that letter?'

'I don't know. We looked for it afterwards, but we could not find it anywhere.'

'Just tell us what Mr Hume did or said.'

'After he had read it, he got up rather quickly, and put the letter in his pocket, and walked over to the window.'

'Yes?'

T said: "Is anything wrong?" He said: "Mary's fiancée has decided to come to town to-day, and wants to see us." I said: "Oh, then we will not go to, Sussex after all" - meaning, of course, that we must meet Mr Answell, and entertain him to dinner. He turned round from the window and said: "Be good enough to do as you are told; you will go exactly as you had planned."'

'What was his manner when he said this?'

'Very cold and curt, which is a dangerous sign with him.'

‘I see. What happened then?'

'Well, I said: "But surely you will invite him to dinner?" He looked at me for a second and said: "We will not invite him to dinner, or anywhere else." Then he walked out of the room.'

Slowly counsel leaned back against the bench. The man in the dock looked up briefly.

'Now, Miss Jordan, I understand that about 1.30 on Saturday afternoon you were passing the door of the drawing-room in the hall?'