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CHAPTER III
EXTRACTED FROM THE “EVENING MOON.”
THE Evening Moon was an enterprising little paper, which gave all the news of the day in a fashion so entertaining that it was a success from its first appearance. Between noon and night a dozen editions were published, and were hawked about the streets by regiments of ragged boys and girls (irregular infantry), whose vivacity and impudence added to the circulation, if they did not to the dignity, of the journal. Beneath the heading of the paper was a representation of the moon with the man in it looking at a spade – to which was tacked the legend: “What do you call this?” “A spade.” “Then I shall call it a spade.” Despite this declaration it delighted in word-painting, and its reports of police-court proceedings, highly coloured in many instances and unwarrantably but agreeably spiced with romance, were read with avidity. The Evening Moon of the 19th of August contained the following report of the police-court proceedings in
THE GREAT PORTER SQUARE MYSTERY
“The inquiry into the awful and mysterious murder in Great Porter Square was resumed this morning at the Martin Street Police Court, before the resident magistrate, Mr. Reardon. The accused person, Antony Cowlrick, who presented a woe-begone appearance, was brought up in charge of the warders. The case has been adjourned four times, and this was the fifth appearance of Antony Cowlrick in the dock. The police preserve a strict silence with regard to him – a silence against which we protest. Arrested upon suspicion, without warrant, and without, so far we can learn, a shadow of evidence against him, nothing but injustice and wrong can accrue from the course pursued by the Scotland Yard officials. Antony Cowlrick is unmistakably a poor and miserable man. All that was found upon him when he was arrested were a stale crust of bread and a piece of hard cheese, which he had thrust into his pocket as he was flying from the pursuit of an enterprising constable. His very name – the name he gave at the lock-up on the night of his arrest – may be false, and, if our information is correct, the police have been unable to discover a single person who is acquainted with, or can give any information concerning him. The rumour that Antony Cowlrick is not quite right in his mind certainly receives some confirmation from his haggard and wandering looks; a more wretched and forlorn man has seldom been seen in a magistrate’s court, suggestive as such a place is of misery and degradation. He was carefully guarded, and a strict watch was kept upon his movements, the theory of the police being that he is a dangerous and cunning character, whose sullen demeanour is assumed to defeat the ends of justice. Mr. White Lush, on the part of the Treasury, conducted the inquiry. The interest taken by the public in the case is still unabated, and the court – if a close, abominably-ventilated room fourteen feet square can be so denominated – was crowded to excess.
On the calling of the case, the magistrate inquired if the accused man was still undefended, and the police replied that no one appeared for him. The answer was scarcely given when Mr. Goldberry (of the firm of Goldberry, Entwistle, and Pugh), rose and said that he was there to represent the accused.
Magistrate: Have you been instructed?
Mr. Goldberry: No, your worship. A couple of hours ago I endeavoured to confer with the prisoner, but the police refused me permission to see him.
Inspector Fleming explained that when Mr. Goldberry sought an interview with the prisoner, the prisoner was asked whether he wished to see him; his answer was that he wished to see no one.
Mr. Goldberry: Still, it cannot but be to the prejudice of the prisoner that he should be unrepresented, and I am here to watch the case in his interest.
Magistrate: Perhaps you had better confer with him now.
A few minutes were allowed for this purpose, at the end of which Mr. Goldberry said, although it was impossible to obtain anything like satisfaction from the accused, that he did not object to the appearance of a solicitor on his behalf. “He seems,” added Mr. Goldberry, “to be singularly unmindful as to what becomes of him.”
Magistrate: The case can proceed.
Mr. White Lush: Call Mrs. Preedy.
The witness presented herself, and was sworn.
Mr. White Lush: Your name is Anna Maria Preedy?
Witness: Yes, sir.
Mr. White Lush: You are a widow?
Witness: Yes, sir, worse luck. ’Is name was James, poor dear!
Mr. White Lush: You live at No. 118, Great Porter Square?
Witness: Yes, sir.
Mr. White Lush: How long have you occupied your house?
Witness: Four and twenty year, come Michaelmas.
Mr. White Lush: What kind of a house is yours?
Witness (with spirit): I defy you or any gentleman to say anythink agin its character.
Mr. White Lush: You keep a lodging-house?
Witness: I’m none the worse for that, I suppose?
Mr. White Lush: Answer my question. You keep a lodging-house?
Witness: I do, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Do you remember the night of the 9th of last month?
Witness: I’ve got reason to.
Mr. White Lush: What reason?
Witness: Two of my lodgers run away without paying their rent.
Mr. White Lush: That circumstance fixes the night in your mind?
Witness: It’d fix it in yours if you kep’ a lodging-house. (Laughter.)
Mr. White Lush: No doubt. There were other circumstances, independent of the running away of your lodgers, which serve to fix that night in your mind?
Witness: There was, sir.
Mr. White Lush: The night was Wednesday?
Witness: It were, sir.
Mr. White Lush: How and at what time did you become aware that your lodgers had run away?
Witness: When the last post come in. I got a letter, and the turn it gave me —
Mr. White Lush: That is immaterial. Have you the letter with you?
Witness: The way the perlice ’as been naggin’ at me for that letter —
Mr. White Lush: Have you the letter with you?
Witness: It’s lost, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Let me impress upon you that this letter might be an important link in the case. It is right and proper that the police should be anxious about it. Do you swear positively that you have lost it?
Witness: I do, sir.
Mr. White Lush: How did it happen?
Witness: It were a fortnight after the body was found in No. 119. I ’ad the letter in my ’and, and was lookin’ at it. I laid it down on the kitchen table, and went to answer the street door. When I come back the letter was gone.
Mr. White Lush: Was any person in the kitchen when you left it?
Witness: Not as I am aware on, sir. There was a ’igh wind on, and I left the kitchen door open, and when I come back I noticed a blaze in the fire, as though a bit of paper had been blown into it.
Mr. White Lush: Then your presumption is that the letter is burnt?
Witness: It air, sir.
Mr. White Lush: You have searched for it since?
Witness: I’ve ’unted ’igh and low, sir, without ever settin’ eyes on it.
CHAPTER IV
THE EXAMINATION OF MRS. PREEDY, CONTINUED FROM THE “EVENING MOON.”
MR. WHITE LUSH: You are quite confident in your own mind that the letter is no longer in existence.
Witness: I can’t swear to that, sir.
Mr. White Lush: You swear that you know nothing of it whatever?
Witness: Yes, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Now, what were the contents of the letter?
Witness: It were to inform me that the droring-rooms had bolted —
Magistrate: Bolted?
Witness: Run away, and wasn’t coming back, and that I might ’elp myself to what was in the trunk to pay my bill.
Mr. White Lush: Did you help yourself?
Witness: The meanness! I went up to the droring-room, and opened the trunk.
Mr. White Lush: Was it locked?
Witness: It were, sir.
Mr. White Lush: How did you open it?
Witness: With a poker.
Mr. White Lush: What did you find in it?
Witness: Bricks.
Mr. White Lush: Nothing else?
Witness: Not a blessed thing.
Mr. White Lush: What occurred then?
Witness: I were overcome with a ’orrid suspicion.
Mr. White Lush: Concerning what?
Witness: My second floorer.
Magistrate: Is that a poetical image, Mr. Lush?
Mr. White Lush (smiling): I really cannot say. This is a case with very little poetry in it. (To witness): Your second floorer? Do you mean your tenant on the second floor?
Witness: That were my meaning, sir.
Mr. White Lush: And acting on your horrid suspicion, you —
Witness: Run up stairs as fast as my legs would carry me.
Mr. White Lush: What did you discover? That your second floorer had run away?
Witness (very solemnly): He ’ad, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Did you open his trunk?
Witness: I did, sir.
Magistrate: With your universal key – the poker?
Witness: Yes, sir.
Mr. White Lush: That trunk, surely, was not also full of bricks?
Witness: I am sorry to inform you, sir, it were.
Magistrate: A singular coincidence.
Mr. White Lush: The witness’s two lodgers were evidently regular bricks. (Great laughter.) Were your drawing rooms and your second floorer on terms of intimacy?
Witness: Not as I was aware on, sir.
Mr. White Lush: What did you do then?
Witness: I went out to speak to a neighbour.
Mr. White Lush: To tell her of your misfortunes?
Witness: Yes, sir.
Mr. White Lush: At what time did you return to your house?
Witness: It were eleven o’clock, sir – striking as I opened the door. I stood on the steps, and counted the strokes: One – Two – Three —
Mr. White Lush: That will do. We will imagine the clock has struck. While you were out, did you observe anything unusual in the next house, No. 119?
Witness: Nothink, sir.
Mr. White Lush: You saw no strangers prowling about?
Witness: I did not, sir. Somebody pushed agin me —
Mr. White Lush: Yes?
Witness: It were Mr. Simpson, dining room, three doors off, in his usual condition. He always comes ’ome so.
Mr. White Lush: Did he speak to you?
Witness: He growled at me.
Mr. White Lush: What did you do then?
Witness: I went down to the kitchen, and fell into a doze.
Mr. White Lush: For how long did you doze?
Witness: I can’t rightly say, sir. About arf-an-hour, perhaps.
Mr. White Lush: Was there a candle alight in the kitchen when you fell asleep?
Witness: Yes, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Was it a whole candle?
Witness: No, sir, it were arf burnt down.
Mr. White Lush: What kind of candles do you burn in your kitchen?
Witness: Taller dips, sir – twelves.
Mr. White Lush: For about how long will one of these tallow dips burn?
Witness: Three hours and more.
Mr. White Lush: Was the candle you left burning on your kitchen table when you fell into a doze alight when you awoke?
Witness: It were, sir, and it burnt blue.
Mr. White Lush: What do you mean by that?
Witness: I don’t know, sir. It burnt blue. There was something mysterious about it.
Magistrate: Perhaps the witness smelt sulphur also.
Mr. White Lush: Did you smell sulphur?
Witness: Not as I’m aware on, sir.
Mr. White Lush: When you awoke, was it a natural awaking, or were you suddenly aroused?
Witness: I were suddenly woke, and I was all of a tremble.
Mr. White Lush: You were frightened by something?
Witness: I were, sir, and I were not.
Mr. White Lush: I do not understand you. Was there anybody or anything in the room besides yourself?
Witness: I didn’t see nothink – not even a mouse.
Mr. White Lush: Then what were you frightened at?
Witness: It were a fancy, perhaps – or a dream that I couldn’t remember; and all at once I ’eerd a scream.
Mr. White Lush: From what direction?
Witness: From the next house, No. 119.
Mr. White Lush: You heard a scream proceeding from 119, the house in which the murder was committed?
Witness: As near as I can remember, sir.
Mr. White Lush: That is not what I want. You possess the usual number of senses, I suppose?
Witness: I defy anybody to say anything to the contrairy.
Mr. White Lush: You look like a sensible woman. (Here the witness made an elaborate curtsey to Mr. White Lush, which occasioned much laughter.) Your hearing is good?
Witness: It air, sir. Mrs. Beale was saying to me only yesterday morning, ‘Mrs. Preedy,’ says she —
Mr. White Lush: Never mind what Mrs. Beale was saying to you. Listen to what I am saying to you. On the occasion we are speaking of, you heard a scream?
Witness (after a long pause, during which she seemed to be mentally asking questions of herself): I think I may wenture to say, sir, I did.
Mr. White Lush: Ah, that is more satisfactory. Now, Mrs. Preedy, attend to me.
Witness: I’m a-doing of it, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Thank you. Did the scream proceed from a man or a woman?
Witness (with energy): I couldn’t tell you, sir, if you went down on your bended knees.
Mr. White Lush: Reflect a little; take time. You have heard hundreds of men’s and women’s voices —
Witness: Thousands, sir.
Mr. White Lush: And a woman of your discernment must have perceived a difference between them. Women’s tones are soft and dulcet; men’s, gruffer and more resonant. It is important we should know whether it was a man’s or a woman’s voice you heard?
Witness: It ain’t possible for me to say, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Is that really the only answer you can give?
Witness: I’d give you another if I could, sir. It’s true I’ve ’eerd thousands of men’s and women’s voices, but I’ve not been in the ’abit of ’aving thousands of men and women screaming at me.
Mr. White Lush: Was it a loud scream?
Witness: There was a brick wall between us, and it must ’ave been a loud scream, or I couldn’t have ’eerd it.
Mr. White Lush: What followed?
Witness: Music. Almost on the top of the scream, as a body might say, I ’eerd music.
Mr. White Lush: What instrument was being played upon?
Witness: The pianner, sir. I ’eerd the pianner playing.
Mr. White Lush: That is to say you heard a man or woman playing the piano?
Witness: I wouldn’t swear, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Or a child?
Witness: I wouldn’t swear, sir.
Mr. White Lush: But you have sworn. You say that you heard the sound of a piano?
Witness: I did ’ear it, sir. The pianner was playing.
Mr. White Lush: A piano can’t play of itself. You heard a man, or a woman, or a child, playing the piano?
Witness: Wild ’orses sha’n’t tear it from me, sir. It might ’ave been a spirit.
Mr. White Lush: What do you say to a cat?
Witness: No, sir, it ain’t reasonable.
Mr. White Lush: You stick to the spirit, then?
Witness: It might ’ave been.
Mr. White Lush: You believe in spirits?
Witness: I do, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Out of a bottle? (Laughter.)
Magistrate: The witness has the bottle-imp in her mind, perhaps? (Renewed laughter.)
Mr. White Lush: Very likely. (To witness): Did the spirit you heard playing come out of a bottle?
Witness (with dignity): I am not in the habit of making a beast of myself.
Mr. White Lush: But a little drop now and then, eh, Mrs. Preedy?
Witness: As a medicine, sir, only as a medicine. I suffer a martyrdom from spasms. (Laughter.)
Mr. White Lush: A common complaint, Mrs. Preedy. I suffer from them myself.
Witness: You look like it, sir. (Screams of laughter.)
Mr. White Lush: For how long a time did the music continue?
Witness: For five or six minutes, perhaps.
Mr. White Lush: Are you sure it did not last for a longer time – or a shorter?
Witness: No, sir, I am not sure. I was in that state that everythink seemed mixed up.
Mr. White Lush: The music might have lasted for half-an-hour?
Witness: It might, sir.
Mr. White Lush: Or for only a minute?
Witness: Yes, sir.
Mr. White Lush: When the music stopped, what occurred?
Witness: If you was to feed me on bread and water for the next twenty years I couldn’t tell you.
Mr. White Lush: Why couldn’t you tell me?
Witness: Because I don’t know whether I was standing on my ’ead or my ’eels. (Roars of laughter.)
Mr. White Lush: Nonsense, Mrs. Preedy, you do know.
Witness: Beggin’ your pardon, sir, I do not know. I ought to know whether I don’t know.
Mr. White Lush: Are you standing on your head or your heels at the present moment?
Witness did not reply.
Magistrate: Do you mean to tell the court seriously that you are not aware whether, at the time referred to, you were standing on your head or your heels?
Witness: I wouldn’t swear to it, my lordship, one way or another.
Mr. White Lush: What did you do when the music stopped?
Witness: I flopped.
Mr. White Lush: Did you flop on your head or your heels?
Witness: I couldn’t take it upon myself to say, sir.
Mr. White Lush: And this is all you know of the murder?
Witness: If you was to keep me ’ere for a month, sir, you couldn’t get nothink else out of me.
Mr. White Lush: I have done with you.
Mr. Goldberry: I shall not detain you long, Mrs. Preedy. Look attentively at the prisoner. Do you know him?
Witness: No, sir.
Mr. Goldberry: Have you ever seen him in Great Porter Square?
Witness: Neither there or nowheres else. This is the first time I ever set eyes on ’im.
Mr. Goldberry: You swear that, positively.
Witness: If it were the last word I ever spoke, it’s the truth.
Mr. Goldberry: That will do.
Mrs. Preedy left the witness box in a state of great agitation, amid the tittering of the spectators.
Mr. Goldberry, addressing the Bench, said that he saw in the Court three of the constables who had been instrumental in arresting the prisoner, one being the officer who had first observed the prisoner in Great Porter Square. It was well known that the prisoner had declined to put a single question to one of the witnesses called on behalf of the Treasury. He asked to be allowed to exercise the privilege of cross-examining these constables, and he promised to occupy the court but a very short time.
No objection being raised, Police-constable Richards entered the witness box.
Mr. Goldberry: Before you helped to arrest the prisoner in Great Porter Square, had you ever seen him before?
Witness: It’s hard to say.
Mr. Goldberry: It is not hard to say. You would find no difficulty in replying to such a question if it were to tell against the prisoner instead of in his favour? I must have an answer. Had you ever seen him before that night?
Witness: I can’t call to mind that I have.
Mr. Goldberry: Do you know anything of him, in his favour or against him, at this present moment?
Witness: I do not.
Mr. Goldberry: Call Constable Fleming. (Constable Fleming stepped into the box.) Before the night of the prisoner’s arrest had you ever seen him?
Witness: I can only speak to the best of my knowledge —
Mr. Goldberry: You are not expected to speak from any other knowledge. You are aware, if that man is put on his trial, that it will be for his life. I insist upon fair play for him. Had you ever seen him before that night?
Witness: Not as far as I can remember.
Mr. Goldberry: You have taken a lesson from Mrs. Preedy. Do you know anything against him now?
Witness: No.
Mr. Goldberry: Call Constable Dick. (Constable Dick stepped into the box). You have heard the questions I put to the last two witnesses. They are what I shall substantially put to you. Before the night of the prisoner’s arrest had you ever seen him?
Witness: No.
Mr. Goldberry: Do you know anything of him at the present moment?
Witness: No.
Mr. Goldberry then addressed the bench. The inquiry had already been adjourned four times, and not a tittle of evidence had been brought forward to connect the prisoner with the dreadful crime. He was utterly unknown to the police, who had instigated the charge against him, and who, being unable to identify him, were deprived the pleasure of testifying that he belonged to the dangerous classes of society. It was partly because of this singular aspect of the case that he, Mr. Goldberry, had voluntarily come forward to defend a man who, upon the face of the evidence, was innocent of the charge so wildly brought against him. It appeared to him that liberty of the person was in danger. It was monstrous that such a power should be exercised by the police. To be poor, as the accused evidently was, was no crime; to be forlorn and wretched, as the accused appeared to be, was no crime; but the police evidently regarded these misfortunes as proofs of guilt. He applied for the prisoner’s discharge.
Mr. White Lush said it was scarcely necessary to say a word in defence of the police, who, in the exercise of their arduous duties, generally acted with fair discretion. To discharge the prisoner at this stage of the proceedings would not unlikely defeat the ends of justice. He understood that the police were on the track of some important evidence regarding the prisoner in connection with the crime, and he asked for an adjournment for a week.
The prisoner, who, during the entire proceedings, had not uttered a word, was remanded, and the case was adjourned until this day week.
