‘Now, Miss Meade – will you tell us in your own words just what happened on Tuesday evening. I believe you were Mr Harsch’s secretary?’
‘I am Mr Madoc’s secretary. I was very pleased to do anything I could for Mr Harsch.’
‘You have been an inmate of the same household – for how long?’
‘For a year.’
‘You were on friendly terms with Mr Harsch?’
Her colour flew up, her eyes dazzled. She said, ‘Oh, yes-’ on a soft, unsteady breath.
‘Well, Miss Meade, will you tell us about Tuesday evening?’
Garth, watching her, saw her right hand take hold of her left and hold it tightly. When she spoke her voice was low and clear.
‘Mr Harsch came in from his laboratory at a little before six. He had finished something that he had been working at for a long time. I gave him some tea, and we sat talking for a little. He put through a telephone call to London, and then we talked again.’
‘Was this call in connection with the work which he had finished?’
‘Yes. He made an appointment with someone to come down next day.’
‘It was a business appointment?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened after that?’
‘We went on talking.’
‘Will you tell us what you were talking about?’
‘About his work – and about his daughter. He had a daughter of about my age. She – died in Germany. We talked until nearly supper time. After supper he said he would go out. He always took a walk in the evening unless it was pouring with rain.’
‘Did he speak of going to the church?’
‘Yes – he said he would go down and play the organ and blow the clouds away.’
‘What did you understand him to mean by that?’
She faltered a little as she said, ‘We had been talking about his daughter.’
‘Her death was a tragic one?’
‘I think so. But he never spoke of that – only about how pretty she was, and how gay, and how much everyone loved her.’
‘Go on, Miss Meade. When did you become anxious about Mr Harsch?’
‘He was usually back by ten o’clock, but I didn’t get worried until much later than that, because he sometimes dropped in to see Miss Fell or Mr Everton. But when he wasn’t home by half-past eleven I was really frightened. Mr and Miss Madoc had gone to bed, so I took a torch and went down to the church. The door was locked and everything was dark. I went to Mr Bush’s house and woke him up. He brought his key and opened the door – and we found Mr Harsch.’ The last words were very low. She tried to keep them steady.
The coroner said, ‘I see. Very distressing for you, Miss Meade. Did you touch anything – move anything?’
Still in that very low voice she said, ‘I took his hand. Mr Bush held the torch, and we saw that he was dead.’
‘His hand was cold?’
‘Yes, quite cold.’
‘Did you see the pistol?’
‘Yes.’
‘How was it lying?’
‘About six inches from his right hand.’
‘Did either of you touch it?’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Miss Meade – you said at the beginning of your evidence that you had a long talk with Mr Harsch. Did he seem depressed?’
She hesitated for a moment, and then said, ‘No – I don’t think so.’
‘You said that he had just finished some work upon which he had been engaged for a long time. Did he say anything to the effect that his work was done – anything that could bear that construction?’
‘No – not like that. He said it was like having a child – you brought it into the world, and then you had to let other people bring it up.’
‘He did say that?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then you talked about his daughter who had died in tragic circumstances?’
Janice lifted her head.
‘Yes. But he didn’t talk about the sad part. He said that was all gone and not to be remembered any more.’
The slightly foreign turn of the sentence gave it the effect of a quotation.
The coroner leaned forward.
‘Did it occur to you at the time, or has it occurred to you since, that Mr Harsch had any thought of taking his own life?’
A bright colour came into Janice’s face. She said very clearly indeed, ‘Oh, no – he wouldn’t!’
‘Have you any reason for saying that?’
‘Yes. He talked of working with Mr Madoc – he asked me if I would help him if he decided to do that. And he rang up to make an appointment for next day with a very busy man. He was very punctilious, and considerate for other people’s time and – and feelings. He would never have made that appointment if he hadn’t been meaning to keep it.’
The coroner looked at her for a moment. Then he said, ‘The pistol you found lying beside Mr Harsch – had you ever seen it before?’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Did you know that he possessed a pistol?’
‘No.’
‘You never saw one in his possession?’
‘No.’
‘Or in the house?’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Thank you, Miss Meade.’ He sat back in his chair and said, ‘Call Mr Madoc!’
Janice went back to her seat. This time she did not have to brush past the professor, because he was already striding up the aisle. By the time she was facing the platform once more Mr Madoc was refusing to be sworn. The coroner was looking at him in a detached manner but with a certain interest, and the village was frankly agog.
‘You are an agnostic?’
No question could have led more perfectly into Mr Madoc’s hand. In his best lecturing voice he replied ‘Certainly not. I read my Bible. If you were to read yours you would be aware that the taking of an oath is forbidden – “Let your communication be yea, yea, and nay, nay. Whatsoever is more cometh of evil” – Matthew, verse 37’
There was one of those pauses. The coroner coughed, and said rather drily, ‘You may affirm, if you wish it.’
Evan Madoc’s chin went up.
‘I have no desire to participate in any of these perfectly meaningless forms. Do you suppose they would prevent me from perjuring myself if I had made up my mind to do so?’
The coroner straightened up.
‘Am I to understand that you have some objection to answering truthfully the questions which will be put to you?’
‘Certainly not. I am a truthful man – my yea is yea, and my nay nay. They will be neither more nor less so because I have or have not recited any of this gabble.’
‘Mr Madoc, I must ask you to respect the court.’
‘I respect what is worthy of respect. I respect justice. Honour to whom honour is due. I have made my protest, and am now willing to affirm.’
The village listened spellbound whilst he did so. Gwen Madoc said, ‘Oh, dear!’ under her breath.
Having completed the meaningless form, Mr Madoc flung himself into the chair set for Janice, thrust his hands into his pockets, and leaned back. This attitude presented him in profile to the hall – black hair, nobby brow, jutting chin, and one light baleful eye. To questions as to Mr Harsch’s position in the household he replied briefly that he had lodged at Prior’s End for four years. He was on the footing of a friend, but he paid his way. They met at meals, and occasionally spent the evening together. Their work was widely different, and each had his own laboratory.
This information was flung out in short, abrupt sentences, and with an air of complete indifference. He was then asked whether there had been any change in Mr Harsch’s manner on the Tuesday evening, to which he replied with the utmost brevity, ‘No.’
‘He was just as usual?’
‘Certainly.’
‘He was in the habit of going for a walk after supper?’
‘He was.’
‘Did he say in your hearing that he was going to play the organ?’