Prosecutrix's companion confirmed the statement. Both denied that they had more than a glass of port wine with the soldiers. The soldiers went into several public-houses, but they did not.
After Dr. H. had described the condition in which he found the girl, T… a telegraph clerk, and the landlord of the Scalby Mills Hotel, who saw the parties, were both most emphatically of opinion that the men were quite sober.
Sergeant Normanton said that at half-past one in the morning he was in North Marine Road, when Florence M… came to him. Her hat was on one side, her hair down, her jacket torn, and she seemed in great trouble, beads of perspiration being on her face. The prosecutrix then came up. She was in a very exhausted condition, and her tie and collar looked as if someone had had her by the throat. She looked as if she had had a desperate struggle and was holding a pair of white drawers (here produced) which appeared to have been torn.
Inspector B… spoke to apprehending the prisoners at the Artillery Barracks. When he charged them they each replied, “I am not guilty,” and followed on by stating: “We were with two girls at Scalby Mills, but we were so drunk that we don't know where we left them or what occurred.”
Both prisoners said they were drunk, P… adding: “Or it would not have occurred.
Prisoners were committed to take their trial at the next York Assizes.
Mrs. Sinclair sat musing over this report and was wondering whether such shameful and intimate details would have been published about herself, had the affair in the train been proceeded with, when she was startled by a loud ring of the front-door bell and a moment later the servant appeared and announced, “Mr. John Sinclair.” Mrs. Sinclair sprang to her feet, and was about to tell the servant not to admit him, but before she could do so he had entered the room, having closely followed the servant.
“All right, my dear little sister-in-law,” he said in his rough coarse voice. “I was passing the door so I thought I would look in and see whether you had recovered from your — fatigue,” and he laid a marked stress on the last word.
The poor woman sank back on the sofa, and threw a frightened glance at the intruder. She felt sure from his tone that if she ordered him out of the house, he would have no compunction in making public the story of her flogging, and that it would be impossible to stop the scandal that would follow. Her version would not be believed, and every one would think that she had deserved the punishment for her immoral conduct.
For John Sinclair had the reputation of being a highly respectable and most virtuous man. He was the “baillie” of a small country town, and was noted for being particularly down upon any unfortunate street-walker, and any poor girl who had listened to the voice of a seducer, and had in consequence to “let out” the seams of her dress, might indeed see her deceiver punished as heavily as the law would permit, but would herself receive such a lecture as she would never forget on the shocking depravity of her conduct.
He was also President of a Society for the Prevention of Vice — a society which ignored all the cardinal sins except that of lust — and he was connected with half a dozen Purity Societies and Societies for the Repeal of the Contagious Diseases Acts, and various other cheerful institutions of the same sort.
Mrs. Sinclair, though she knew very little of him, as her husband had never greatly cared for his brother, had always mistrusted the man, and was of opinion that he was really no better than his neighbours, and indeed rather worse, because he was a hypocrite as well, but everybody believed that he really hated vice as much as he pretended to, and in Scotland he was looked upon as a pillar of morality, and quite a shining light to the nation at large. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Sinclair's estimate of him was correct, and he was a monster of vice. Many a poor girl had he seduced, and one or two of them had ventured to accuse him publicly, but of course they were not believed, and their charges were held to be only malevolent perjuries.
The sight of his sister-in-law's bottom had aroused his lust, and ever since then he had brooded over the possibility of “having” his brother's wife, and the more he thought of it the more feasible it appeared, for it must be recollected that he really believed she had allowed the painter to roger her, and was unaware that she had been raped.
Being (as he imagined) inclined to be a whore, she would perhaps be disposed to favour a big strapping fellow such as he was, and though his conduct to her would hardly prepossess her in his favour, she would remember that he had it in his power to blast her good name, and would give from fear what she would not from affection.
He therefore boldly determined to pay a visit to her house, and as he shrewdly guessed that she might refuse to see him, he had, by the timely use of half-a-crown, prevailed on the servant to show him up at once.
At the sight of him, the recollection of the horrible punishment she had undergone at the hands of this detested man, flashed across Mrs. Sinclair's mind, and when she remembered that he had seen and felt her bare backside, she blushed scarlet, and with difficulty-prevented herself from bursting into tears. He noticed her confusion, and thought he might turn it to good account.
“My dear Clara,” he began — presuming on his relationship to address her by her Christian name,” I owe you an apology. The fact is, I was carried away by my feelings, for you know I have very strong opinions on morality. But I see now I was wrong. If my brother chooses to go away to India and leave a pretty little wife behind him, a widow in everything but name — it is but likely that her natural passions will break out now and then, and she will throw herself into the arms of the first good-looking fellow she meets.
“I do not understand you, sir,” replied Mrs. Sinclair coldly. “You have intruded into my house in a most unwarrantable manner, and if I do not have you ejected it is only because I do not want to create a scandal, but I must beg that whilst you are here you will recollect who I am, and treat me with proper respect.”
“Oh, yes,” he replied with mock gravity, “and you might also treat me properly. You might remember that I am your husband's brother, and so like him that you might easily mistake me for him if you tried,” — and he accompanied this sentence with a satyric leer.