CHAPTER IX.

THE APPROACHING HOUR

In response to the bell, Jill and Lady Porter quickly entered the room, accompanied by a maid. They attended to Lady Evenden, and very soon signs of returning consciousness appeared, to the great relief of Mr. Benson who, in truth, had been frightened greatly at the effect of his words. With returning consciousness, memory also returned; and, Lady Evenden had barely opened her eyes when a shadow passed over her face, and she gave a little shudder.

Jill looked at Mr. Benson as if to suggest that the lawyer was to blame for her mistress’s distress. But very quickly Lady Evenden, making a visible effort, spoke:

“How very stupid of me!” she exclaimed. “Forgive me, Millie,” she begged Lady Porter. “You must leave me with Mr. Benson for a few minutes; we have some business to discuss that my absurd attack interrupted.”

“I think perhaps it would be better to leave it over,” began Mr. Benson.

But Lady Evenden said: “No, no! I see the necessity of getting that matter put in order.” To Jill and Lady Porter, she added, “Do you mind?” And, with words of advice to the deathly white Lady Evenden not to overtax her strength, they left the room. As soon as they had gone, Lady Evenden leant forward.

“What do you know of Laidlaw?” she asked.

“Precious little,” said Mr. Benson. “But, my dear lady, I didn’t come here for you to question me about Dr. Laidlaw--I came to question you. If you are well enough, mark you; if not, we will leave the matter over.”

“No, I am quite well enough,” said Lady Evenden, “but I simply cannot discuss Dr. Laidlaw with you, Mr. Benson--I cannot.”

“The time may shortly arise when you will have to discuss him with others, Lady Evenden. I would spare you that; but, you must try to be strong enough to tell me all there is to know about him,” said Mr. Benson gravely.

“Whatever do you mean? Do tell me, Mr. Benson--you--you frighten me.” Lady Evenden again began to show traces of great agitation, and Mr. Benson glanced towards the bell.

“I say, Lady Evenden,” he protested, “I would far rather adjourn this talk until such time as you feel well enough. I must ask you certain questions, and I simply must have replies. But, I will not do that at risk of more of those attacks which, I am convinced, must be most dangerous for you--and distressing.”

“What is to be said will be said now,” the lady returned firmly. “Why is it suddenly important that you want to know all about my friends? What do you mean that I may shortly have to make statements about him?”

“As you will,” said the old lawyer with a lift of his bushy eyebrows. “Well, now, to let you realize that I know a good deal, let me tell you that Frank has informed me of all that Jack told him with relation to the death of John Gough, your first husband. Now wait just a minute”--for Lady Evenden was on the point of interrupting, but she stopped at the old man’s imperative gesture. “Now it doesn’t need me to tell you that neither Frank nor I believe, for a single second, that you were in any sense responsible for that. On the contrary, we both feel as everyone else must feel, that you had a terrible experience, and were in no sense whatever responsible either for the late Mr. Gough’s illness, or his death.

“I must point out here that even Jack, you know, when he was discussing this matter with Frank on the night of his death, made his position perfectly clear. He told Frank that not for a second did he impute any evil to you, but he rather censured you for two things. One was that you had not taken Sir Michael into your confidence, and the other was that you received Dr. Laidlaw here--almost clandestinely received the man with whose name yours could be coupled by scandal-mongers in connection with that affair at Loch Lomond.

“Now then”--the old lawyer vigorously blew his nose--“now then, my dear lady, you know this won’t do. You must have no secrets from me. Now come along and tell me exactly why you allow that little man to have private interviews?”

“I can tell you nothing,” she replied with trembling lips, but with a firm look in her eye. “I thank you for your confidence in me--and oh, Mr. Benson, believe me, it isn’t misplaced; but I can tell you nothing.”

Mr. Benson’s face indicated undisguised exasperation. He was about to speak when Lady Evenden spoke again.

“Jack believed that, did he? What you tell me, I mean--that I was innocent of that awful thing?” And as the lawyer nodded, she continued; “I’m very glad to hear you say so--but I don’t think he did.”

“But, my dear lady,” said Mr. Benson. “I have Frank’s word for it. He tells me that Jack was far more concerned about protecting your honor and preserving your good name from scandal than he was about anything else. He told Frank that he didn’t take second place to anyone in his love and regard for you. He was primarily concerned to collaborate with Frank to stop any scandal and to protect you. The story, coming to him as it did from outside the family, was a shock to him, as was the appearance of Dr. Laidlaw when his mind was distressed beyond description at the loss of his father. It was that which led him to consult Frank.”

As the lawyer talked, Lady Evenden watched him with wide open eyes, then, with apparent irrelevance, she asked:

“Frank will be safe, won’t he? You said he would be safe, you know, Mr. Benson.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Benson. “But I’m coming to that. Now, look here. Supposing Dr. Laidlaw were put into a tight corner, what could he say to your detriment? What could he do to you?”

“Oh, do stop talking about Dr. Laidlaw, Mr. Benson,” she entreated. “I am quite sure that Dr. Laidlaw would never say anything to my detriment.”

“Well, now, look here.” Mr. Benson stood over her, and looked down with severity in his keen eyes as he drew an old chased silver snuffbox from his waistcoat pocket and took a pinch before he continued. Then, speaking in his gravest tones, he said:

“In order to establish the innocence of your son, it is quite possible that I may have to call Dr. Laidlaw. Now, he was seen to enter the Prior’s Room on the night of the murder, from outside, too, by means of the secret passage. I shall not hesitate to call witnesses to prove that, Lady Evenden, and I personally believe that the establishment of that probably will precede the appearance of Dr. Laidlaw in the dock on charge of murdering Jack.”

If Lady Evenden’s face was pale before, it became positively ghastly as the lawyer proceeded. Fear--stark, unqualified fear--was depicted on her mobile face. She gasped and appeared to be on the point of fainting again; but, with a supreme effort, she rallied. Her voice was a hoarse whisper when she next spoke.

“You--must never do--that,” she declared with tragic earnestness. “Never!” she repeated.

“Not even to save your son?” Mr. Benson asked with uplifted eyebrows.

“Oh, do stop!” she begged. “You said he was safe.”

“I know, I did,” agreed the lawyer with exasperation, “but only so far as I am able to save him. Do you mean to say that you would endanger your son’s life rather than call this doctor? What are you thinking of, my dear lady? Look here, if the man is holding something over you, let me know what it is, and I’ll deal with him. Give me your confidence, my dear lady, give me your confidence.”

“I cannot--I cannot,” she moaned. “Don’t ask me--I cannot.”

“What about if you must?” Mr. Benson looked like a figure of inexorable fate as he stood insisting over her.

“Then I’ll die.” Promptly, defiantly, came the words. And it seemed that the lady gathered courage to defy where she lacked the courage to confide. For several minutes they stood there. Lady Evenden had risen on her last utterance.

“Well, for the moment, we can get no further, my lady,” Mr. Benson declared with a resigned shrug of his shoulders. “And it is useless for me to remain longer distressing you. I will bid you good-day.”

“But you’re not going?” she inquired anxiously.

“No, my place is here. I shall be within call,” he said. “Think over what I have said, my dear lady; think carefully. Secrets are safe with me, and I might be able to help you more than you dream of.”

Lady Evenden stepped impulsively forward and proffered her hand, which the lawyer took, and for a moment it seemed as if she were about to say something. Then she changed her mind, and with a muttered “Thank you” she went back to the couch, and Mr. Benson left the room.

Though the most exhaustive inquiries were made by the private detectives whom Mr. Benson employed, the weeks went by and the trial approached without a trace of Dr. Laidlaw being found.

Almost every day Mr. Benson went to see Frank in his cell, and every week he appeared before the magistrates. At last the police court proceedings ended, and Frank was committed to take his trial at the next Norwich assizes.

The decision was not arrived at automatically; for, a full bench of magistrates sat, and, after hearing the full police case, they asked Sir Courtney Caldecott, K.C., if he intended to open the case, for the defense, in that court.

Bearing in mind that on a murder charge a committal was almost inevitable, and that there remained little time before the winter assize, Sir Courtney decided to save time by reserving the case for the defense, and said so.

The magistrates adjourned to a room behind the court, and remained there for three hours. As the minutes developed into hours, Sir Courtney turned to Mr. Benson, who sat beside him.

“What’s the betting that they don’t commit?” he asked.

“I was just thinking the same myself,” said Mr. Benson. “He certainly has a lot of sympathy here. But, on a charge of this gravity I don’t think they would take the responsibility of deciding that there was no case for trial, do you?”

“Well, I don’t know,” replied Sir Courtney thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you this much, if they stay away much longer I’ll begin to think we made a blunder in not opening our defense and giving them a chance to throw the case out.”

Mr. Benson stroked his chin. His keen eyes kept straying to the door through which the magistrates must return. Every now and then he left the court, to telephone to Evenden Priory, to let Lady Evenden know how things progressed. He positively got tired of having to say constantly that the magistrates were still considering the committal.

Ultimately they returned, and the chairman announced the decision of the court that, Frank Gough will be, on the finding of acceptable sureties, committed on bail, to take his trial at the forthcoming winter assize for the murder of the late Sir John Evenden.

Instantly there was a flutter in the court. Sir Courtney turned to Mr. Benson, and Mr. Benson looked back his surprise. Bail! and in a murder case! The Crown prosecutor, Mr. Assidell, K.C., was on his feet in an instant, purple of face.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “Gentlemen, with very great respect, and with due appreciation of the excellent character hitherto borne by the prisoner, I am bound to point out that your proceeding is most irregular. I am not going to say that it is entirely without precedent; but, in an ordinary case of wilful murder, as this is, it certainly is without precedent.

“Magistrates have used discretion in the case of a girl charged with the murder of an infant, but even then they appoint hospital or workhouse authorities the safe custody of the prisoner. I feel it my duty to tell you, gentlemen, that, should you persist in offering bail in this case, I should have to refer the matter to the King’s Bench. I cannot accept--the Public Prosecutor cannot accept--the responsibility of conducting a prosecution on the capital charge if the prisoner, charged with wilful murder, is to be given an opportunity of absconding.”

“Our finding is not a unanimous one.” The interruption came from an old magistrate sitting towards the end of the bench. Sir Robson Tyndal was an old gentlemen of very definite opinions, and not afraid to air them.

“Exactly,” said Mr. Assidell, K.C., misunderstanding. “I am sure there must be amongst you those who take my view of the matter.”

“Excuse me, sir,” interrupted Sir Robson, “we don’t take your view of the matter, at all. What I mean to say is that our decision to commit for trial is not a unanimous one. There are some of us here who are bitterly disappointed that the learned counsel for the defense has not thought fit to give us a chance to discharge a young man whom we believe to be innocent--and, when the question of bail arises, well, we intend to exercise our authority, and you can go to the King’s Bench or any other bench. At present you address this bench--and I wish I were chairman this year, that’s all.” Sir Robson finished with a vigorous little nod which gave Mr. Assidell to understand that, had he been chairman, he would have had some one more difficult to deal with. Several other magistrates nodded their approval of their outspoken colleague. But the chairman, Mr. Deerham, of Deerham Grange, was palpably annoyed.

“I am quite sure Sir Robson does not infer----” he began when Sir Robson interrupted again.

“Certainly not, sir, certainly not. I beg your pardon sincerely. I was irritated for the moment that a King’s Counsel should come down from London to dictate to this bench!”

“It is far from being a case of my dictating to you, gentlemen,” said the unhappy Mr. Assidell. “I am merely performing my duty--I cannot do less. It is my duty to protest against the admittance to bail of a man charged with wilful murder. If I had thought that local feeling would prejudice this bench, I would have instituted the proceedings outside your jurisdiction.”

“We will reconsider the position,” announced the chairman, rising.

“I won’t reconsider mine,” snapped the defiant Sir Robson Tyndal, with a dark look at Mr. Assidell. The magistrates filed out again.

“What do you think of that?” asked Mr. Benson triumphantly.

“Wonderful,” replied Sir Courtney with a smile. “If we get the same mentality at the trial we’ll walk home.”

“They’re all members of the Grand Jury,” announced Mr. Benson, with a look round the court. Then, whispering in the great K.C.’s ear, he said, “And I’ve been round the lot, my boy.”

“Sh-sh!” exclaimed the K.C. with a glance at the remarkable old gentleman beside him. “You’ll get us all locked up, Mr. Benson.”

“I’ve been in the practice sixty years, my lad,” truculently replied Mr. Benson. “You can’t tell me anything about winning cases in this county!” There was the suspicion of a wink in the shrewd old eye nearest to the eminent barrister, who in turn contented himself by a sly tap on Mr. Benson’s leg and a chuckle, for the magistrates were returning.

“We have decided to accede to the wishes of the prosecution and with regret we commit the accused to take his trial at the winter assize, and to remain in custody,” said the chairman.

After all, Mr. Benson and Sir Courtney Caldecott, K.C., were not disappointed, for they had fully expected a committal, and never had the thought of bail entered their heads. What they were concerned with was what a High Court judge would think of the evidence as it stood. How would he direct a jury? Could they possibly get a grand jury to fling the bill out and save all the agony of a murder trial?

Sir Courtney returned with Mr. Benson to Evenden Priory, and dined with him and Lady Evenden, who was very strongly impressed with the powerful personality of the great advocate. And, when he gave her his assurance that her son would be safe, she seemed content. Mr. Benson half hoped that she might possibly confide in the K.C. the secret of Dr. Laidlaw, to arm him still more in his defense of Frank. But that hope was doomed to disappointment.

So, the days went by, and the greatest crisis in Frank Gough’s life approached.

Mr. Benson was gravely perturbed at the whole position, and his anxiety increased as the trial approached. What he knew, and what he suspected, he kept entirely to himself. And, as he sat alone in the library of Evenden Priory several nights before the trial, he surveyed the whole case again for the hundredth time. Finally, with a sigh, he laid the papers down upon the table.

“Was anyone ever in the plight that I’m in?” he asked himself. “The prosecution’s case is not by any means infallible, but it’s pretty strong. And where are we? We’ve got the mystery of the poison, which discounts the quick quarrel theory, and we’ve got local sympathy. And in my opinion that’s going to be the trump card.

“On the other hand, here’s this young doctor chap and his girl who admit that they know something. What it is I don’t know, but it concerns Laidlaw, and they talk mysteriously about it hurting someone else--obviously Lady Evenden. She, on her part, won’t say a word about Dr. Laidlaw, who helps matters by disappearing.

“What really happened was that Dr. Laidlaw committed that murder, and Lady Evenden knows about it and daren’t say. That’s about the weight of things.

“Well,” said Mr. Benson to himself finally, before he went to bed, “we’ll fight it out as best we can, and if we fail I’ll have an appeal entered and bring the whole lot of them to the appeal court--Lady Evenden, young Barlow, the cunning little companion, and the redoubtable Laidlaw. That’s what I’ll do, and now get to bed, you silly old chap. Much too late for one of your years to be up. What, a little whisky? Yes, you shall have just a tot; you deserve that, Chris Benson!”

So, having complimented himself and treated himself to his usual nightly tot, Mr. Benson went to bed to dream of all sorts of strange things foreign to the curriculum of a lawyer.

He dreamt of an old low-built manor house and a girl in a lilac dress, with a basket of roses on her arm. There was a young man walking beside her, dressed in old-fashioned clothes, riding boots, and spurs. It was himself. A smile played about the old lawyer’s lips as he moved uneasily in his sleep. Then the dream seemed to change. A shadow fell on the lawn upon which the young couple walked, and a man approached. He walked straight up to them, and the girl cried:

“Be careful, Chris! Be careful!” So vivid was the cry that Mr. Benson awoke with a start, perspiration on his brow.

“Phew,” he exclaimed. “What have I been eating? Hello, what’s that?” He waited a second. Then he distinctly heard a creak in the room. With surprising agility, for one of his years, Mr. Benson jumped out of bed on the side farthest from the creaking sound, at the same time switching on the light.

There, on the other side of the bed, surprise and dismay on his face, stood Dr. Laidlaw.