It was now eleven-thirty. Since it was closeto the noon-hour and since the prosecution was expected to begindetailed examination of the members of the Shakespeare Club, Marcassumed that Justice Powell would call for a recess. Instead, theclerk stood and read out the name of the next witness:
“The Crown calls Miss Celia Langford.”
***
Pale and nervous, Celia clutched the rail before herand steeled herself for what was to come. Thornton, however, didnot approach her as a hostile witness. Instead, he did everythinghe could to calm her down and have her relax.
“I realize, Miss Langford, that answering myquestions when your brother’s life might be at stake is difficult.But I have for you only a few queries, all of which deal withsimple, straightforward facts that must be provided the jurors sothat they may bring in a fair and proper verdict.”
He smiled like a pet uncle, looked down athis notes, then raised his elegant head. “You were present whenyour brother received the extortion-note on the Wednesday eveningone week before the crime?”
“Yes,” Celia said. Her voice was soft butamazingly calm.
Then with infinite politeness Thornton ledCelia through the events of that evening. She told the jury thatthe note had been delivered secretly, that she herself had read it,and that it had been torn up and discarded. In an unwavering voiceshe recited what she remembered of its contents, fleshing out thesketch made by Brodie in his statement but adding nothing new ofsignificance. Marc, whose heartbeat had threatened to drum out allthought, was beginning to relax, though he knew that Thornton wasafter something more damning that he had elicited so far. Sureenough, Thornton moved slyly from facts to implication.
“What did your brother have to say about thenote and its demands?”
“He said that I was not to worry, that MissRamsay had nothing to hide. He said this fellow was trying to getmoney off us because we were rich, and that the threat in the notewas just a stab in the dark.”
“So he didn’t look at all worried? Orangry?”
“No, except that he tore the note toshreds.”
“By which action you assumed the nastybusiness was over?”
“Yes. Brodie said he would take care ofit.”
“He didn’t mention anything about entrappingthe blackmailer and bringing him to the police?”
So, Marc thought, this was where Thornton washeading: letting the jury see there was no evidence that Brodie’sintentions had been honourable, indeed had not been revealed evento his sister and confidante. The prosecutor was leaving nothing tochance as he constructed his deadly scenario. And, still, the realdanger had not yet passed.
“No,” Celia answered. “He just said he’d takecare of things.”
“And you and your brother did not discuss thenote or what, if anything, he was planning to do about it – overthe seven days between that Wednesday and the next one?”
Celia looked down. Her lower lip began totremble. Ten seconds went by.
“Miss Langford,” the judge said kindly, “youmust answer the question, and whatever your personal feelings andloyalties, you must tell us the truth.”
Celia looked up at last, not at the judge orthe prosecutor but at Brodie high in the prisoner’s dock. She triedbravely to squeeze her tears back in. Brodie did not move, but somemessage, perceptible only to brother and sister, passed betweenthem.
“We talked a little bit the next Wednesday,just before Brodie went off to his club.”
“And what prompted such a discussion at thistime? Remember, you’ve told us he alone would ‘take care of’ thethreat, and he had apparently not raised the matter in theintervening seven days.”
In a barely audible voice, she said, “Asecond note had just come.”
Sensation: in the side-galleries and amongthe jurors, whose attention had begun to flag. The judge had to usehis gavel.
Kingsley Thornton was so accustomed tofeigning surprise that he hardly knew how to register the genuinething. “Well, now,” he said, trying to throttle down hisexcitement, “as there is no mention by the accused in his trueconfession of any such note, you had better tell us all aboutit yourself.”
“It was nothing really. I read it beforeBrodie tore it up. It was one sentence, reminding Brodie to come tothe alley or Miss Ramsay’s life would be ruined. Nothing thatwasn’t in the first one.”
“I see, even though the accused deliberatelyexcluded it from his confession?”
“Nothing more.” Celia was starting to trembleall over.
“What did your brother say to you about thissecond threat – just moments before setting out for his cluband the alley behind it?”
In a choking voice Celia said, “He told me hewas going to make sure this scoundrel didn’t ever get the chance toblackmail anybody ever again.”
SIXTEEN
Marc did what he could on cross-examination. Therewas no way to mitigate the effect of Brodie’s omission of thesecond note from his statement – Marc might be able to address thatin his closing remarks – but he made some headway towards bluntingthe stunning revelation of what Brodie’s intentions and mood hadbeen early that Wednesday evening. Thornton had compelled a tearfulCelia to admit that his “threat” against the blackmailer had beensaid in anger, and it was here that Marc began.
“Given your brother’s character and customarybehaviour, Miss Langford, is it not more probable that his remarkabout stopping the blackmailer and his criminal activities wasintended to convey to you that he planned to catch the villain andhale him before the courts, and that the anger you’ve described washis outrage at such unconscionable behaviour?”
Despite an apoplectic interjection fromKingsley Thornton, Marc had been able to make his point, small asit was after the dramatic impact of Celia’s surprise testimony.
When the noon-hour recess was called, Marcsat in his seat for several minutes. It had been a dark morning forthe defense, but he could not see how he could have defended Brodieany better. Somehow, though, he found that assessment offered himscant comfort. He would have to do better in the afternoon.
***
At two o’clock Thornton began to build up thedetails of the story he wished the jury to believe. Gillian Budgewas called first. As expected, she testified to the departure timesof Dutton and Fullarton, and speculated upon the likely times forCrenshaw and Shuttleworth – paving the way for the accounts tofollow.
Marc asked her how she could be sure of theexact times, and managed to have her admit that they were very muchapproximate. Still, as Marc knew, it was the sequence of departuresand what the departing club-members saw in the alley that wascritical. He then shifted tactics.
“Constable Cobb has testified that you andNestor Peck, your employee, accompanied him out to the alley toidentify the body. Did you recognize the victim at that time?”
“Only as a customer. I didn’t know his name,and Nestor never told me the fellow was his cousin,” Gillian saidin her no-nonsense manner.
“How regular a customer was he?”
“I saw him perhaps three or four times in thetaproom.”
“Was he not banished from yourestablishment?” Marc said blandly.
“Milord, these questions are a long way frompertinence,” Thornton said, almost wearily.
“I intend, Milord, to suggest that someoneelse might have motive and opportunity to commit the crime.”
“Be careful, Mr. Edwards. It’s yourclient who’s on trial.”
Gillian gave Marc her patented scowl, butanswered the question. “The Wednesday before the murder, my husbandthrew him out of our place – bodily.”
“What was Mr. Duggan’s transgression?”
“He had made improper advances to my barmaid,Etta Hogg.”
“And this angered your husband, TobiasBudge?”
“It would’ve angered any red-blooded man,”Gillian said. “The fellow didn’t show his face again – till I sawit there in the alley.”