“Think we’re all right?” the AC asked.
“Short of a miracle, we’ll get him committed to the Old Bailey, sir,” said Roger. “I don’t think there’ll be much difficulty after that. But I’ve drawn a blank with everything else. It’s certain that two or three people were on the Common that night, but we can’t get tabs on anyone. If we could prove that the car stopped—”
“Just get him on this charge,” Chatworth advised. “Stop worrying about any other.”
There was little choice, but Roger was uneasy when he went to court. The case had aroused a lot of interest, big crowds were gathered outside, and the public gallery was packed with friends and acquaintances of the millionaire. Roger’s disquiet increased when he saw Melville smiling confidently, and Raeburn as immaculate and self-assured as ever.
Roger was with Turnbull just before the preliminaries, when die door of the room set aside for the police burst open and Eddie Day rushed in.
“ ‘Andsome. you ‘eard?” Excitement always made Eddie falter on his aspirates.
“Heard what?” demanded Roger. “They’ve got a surprise witness, a girl named Franklin —some dame, too. No wonder Melville’s grinning all over his face!”
That sent Roger’s spirits to a record low.
CHAPTER III
SURPRISE WITNESS
MELVILLE WAS a big, round-faced man, with sleek dark hair and tufts of dark eyebrows which gave him a comical appearance. His voice was soft and seemed friendly. He sat patiently until evidence of arrest and other formalities were over; when Roger took the oath, his smile broadened and he rubbed his hands together.
Roger gave his evidence concisely to a hushed court. Raeburn’s friends took in every word, obviously impressed, and once or twice even Raeburn looked anxious. But nothing disturbed Melville.
He rose to his feet as Roger finished. “I wonder if I may put one or two questions to the witness, Your Worship?”
“You may, Mr Melville.”
“Thank you, sir.” Melville stood in front of the witness box, still rubbing his hands together. “Knowing your excellent reputation, Chief Inspector, I take it for granted that on behalf of the police you exerted yourself in every way to endeavour to find an eyewitness of this occurrence?”
“I did,” said Roger.
“Did you succeed?”
“No.”
“Did you succeed in finding anyone who was on Clapham Common at the time the incident occurred?”
“Yes,” said Roger.
“May I ask if you intend to produce that person as a witness?”
“Yes.”
“And may I ask who he—or she—is?” went on Melville, with a glance at the magistrate.
“Is that necessary, since we are told that the person will be called to give evidence?” interrupted the magistrate.
“I think perhaps we shall progress more rapidly if the witness would answer the question,” said Melville.
“Very well—you may proceed.”
Roger said: “A police constable was cycling across the Common about the time of the incident.”
“A police constable. I see. Wasn’t it a remarkable coincidence that a constable should happen to be on the Common at the crucial time—unless, of course, he was patrolling in the course of his duty? Is that the explanation?”
“He was returning from duty,” said Roger, coldly.
“Did he actually see the car?”
The magistrate leaned forward. “The witness will be able to answer for himself, Mr Melville.”
“Of course, Your Worship, of course. I am considering only the precious time of the court,” said Melville smoothly. “Setting aside the question of the fortuitous advent of the policeman who—er—happened to be crossing the Common at this time, but did not see what occurred, did you find any other person who was near the scene at the time?”
“No,” answered Roger.
“Remarkable!” Melville actually allowed his voice to rise, and turned to the magistrate. “Your Worship, I think I should state at this juncture that there was an eyewitness of the unhappy occurrence. The police were unable to find the person, but the task presented no insuperable difficulty to the defence. I propose, with your permission, to call this witness, because I believe it can be proved that there is no case to answer.”
“I will hear the evidence for the prosecution, Mr Melville.”
“As you wish, Your Worship. I have no further questions to ask the witness.” Melville looked positively delighted, and Roger was quite sure what would happen now.
When Melville called Eve Franklin as the first witness for the defence, the court was hushed. And the witness did not disappoint. She wore a silk suit of navy blue, which would have been acceptable in any cathedral, but somehow made her figure a thing to marvel at. Her dark hair was a cluster of demure curls. Her face was pale, and she wore little makeup. Her voice was low-pitched, but she was completely self-assured.
She was sworn.
“Now, Miss Franklin,” said Melville, “I want you to understand that the court is interested only in your evidence. You must not speak of anything you did not actually see. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“You were on Clapham Common on the evening of October the 22nd—or, more accurately, the early morning of October the 23rd?”
“I was.”
“Were you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Wasn’t that rather late for a young woman to be out alone?”
“I’m not so young.”
Someone tittered.
They’re going to believe her, Roger thought, and he felt an even greater tensing of his nerves. Here was a man he knew was guilty, about to get away with it again, unless the police solicitor could throw serious doubt on this girl’s evidence.
“I don’t think positive accuracy about your age is a matter of great importance to the court,” murmured Melville, suavely. “Will you object if I ask you what you were doing at that time?”
“I was walking home,” answered Eve.
“I see. There is no public transport at that time of night and you couldn’t get a taxi. Is that it?”
“The witness will give us all the relevant information,” interrupted the magistrate severely.
“I am sorry, Your Worship. I am anxious only to make this ordeal as bearable as possible for the witness. Why did you walk home, Miss Franklin?”
“Because I couldn’t get a taxi.”
“Why did you walk across the Common?”
“I often do. Some friends of mine live on the other side of the Common, you see.”
“Had you been with these friends that night?”
“Yes.”
“What time was it when you left?”
“About one o’clock.”
“Can you be more precise?”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” answered Eve, apologetically.
“Perhaps it is immaterial,” conceded Melville. “Did you walk along the sidewalk or along the road?”
“I cut across the Common, on a path.”
“Did you see anything coming along the road?”
“I saw a big car,” answered Eve. “I don’t know what make it was; there wasn’t very much light. I know it was a light colour, though—white, I should say. Its headlights were on.”
She moistened her lips.
She’s lying, Roger thought, desperately, but they’ll believe her.
“Go on, please,” murmured Melville.
“Just as it turned a bend in the road, a man ran out from the bushes,” asserted the girl. She looked as if the moment of horror still affected her, the lying bitch! “He didn’t seem to look where he was going, just ran across the road. The car swerved, and I quite thought it would crash. I remember standing still and staring. I couldn’t even cry out.”
“We quite understand,” soothed Melville. “And what happened then?”
“I saw the man fall,” said Eve, simply. “He—he simple didn’t get up again.”
“Did the car stop?”
“It slowed down, then went on.”