The Second Shot (24 page)

‘But what about this wild rose?’ asked the coroner, frowning on the incipient titters which were breaking out again.

‘Oh, yes. When he’d finished saying “Hi!” he went up to a wild rose bush and stood looking at it as if – well, as if he were saying his prayers, you know. And then he picked one and held it out at arm’s-length, and simply gazed at it. Like a poet, or something like that. I never saw anything so funny.’

‘Yes?’ said the coroner, with a little smile himself. ‘And then?’

‘Oh, and then the second shot went off, and – and Pinkie jumped and dropped the rose.’

‘I see. Now, what did this second shot sound to you like?’

‘Oh, it was the one Mr Hillyard fired.’

‘How do you know that?’ the coroner asked sharply.

‘Well, it’s obvious,’ Armorel said in apparent surprise. ‘It was a shotgun, for one thing, and it came from exactly the direction Mr Hillyard says he was.’

‘Was it loud?’

‘Oh, no. It was some distance away. I mean,
I
didn’t jump.’

‘But you heard it quite distinctly?’

‘Oh, yes. Enough to say it was hollow, like a shotgun, not sharp like a rifle.’

‘You know a good deal about firearms, Miss Scott-Davies?’

‘Well, I was brought up amongst them, so to speak.’

‘I see. Now, can you throw any light on this? You heard the shot which you think Mr Hillyard fired, but he says he was unable to hear any other but his own. Can you help us to understand that?’

‘Well, I should think it’s obvious, isn’t it? He was much farther away when the first one went off and we heard the second because he’d come nearer.’

John jumped up. That’s quite correct, sir. I was walking downstream.’

‘Thank you, Mr Hillyard,’ said the coroner, with a brief nod. ‘Well, Miss Scott-Davies, continue your narrative. What happened after the second shot, and you saw Mr Pinkerton – er – jump?’

‘Oh, well, he began going round saying “Hi!” again, so I came out and told him not to be frightened.’

‘You spoke to him?’

‘Yes, that’s what I mean. And he asked me where I’d sprung from, or something like that, and I said I’d been gathering wild honeysuckle, and he asked where it was then, and I said I hadn’t gathered any after all, only a wild rose, and he blushed.’

I was so concerned with this remarkable story that the occasional laughs which punctuated it hardly reached my ears. Nor indeed, at the time, was I troubled by the ludicrous figure which I myself cut in it.

‘Yes? Go on, please.’

‘Then he went over to where Eric had been lying, to get his cigarette case, and said Mrs Fitzwilliam was waiting for him, and he must hurry; so I told him to get on with it.’

‘You did not offer to accompany him?’

‘No. He didn’t ask me, and it might have been rather butting in, mightn’t it? I went off along the path by the stream, thinking probably I’d meet Mr Hillyard or someone, and up the hill farther on.’

‘You didn’t see Mr Pinkerton descend again?’

‘No, but he told me afterwards that when he found Mrs Fitzwilliam gone he came back to look for me.’

‘Yes, never mind that. Well, Miss Scott-Davies, I don’t know what to say to you. Really I don’t. I can only imagine you cannot have realized the very great importance of what you have just told us.’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Armorel said, with (no doubt) charming penitence. ‘You see, all I thought was that it would probably save an awful lot of bother and fuss if I told the superintendent later that I’d been reading on the hill all the time, as he thought. And when I came out from seeing him that afternoon, I just mentioned to Mr Pinkerton that I had said that, and he was to back me up. And of course he did.’

‘You seem to take it very much for granted that he should assist you in deceiving the police.’

‘Well, I did think it was rather sporting of him. In fact, I thought he was making almost as much fuss about it as the police might if I’d told them the truth, because whenever I saw him during the next two days he always kept rubbing it in that I must stick to the story, and now I’d told them that I mustn’t go back on it or I’d get into trouble, and whatever happened I mustn’t come out with the truth now. I got quite bored.’

‘Ah, Mr Pinkerton insisted on that, did he?’

‘Yes. Of course when I heard what happened here this morning and the rotten position it put him in, I knew I must tell the truth. I realized then how silly it was of me not to have told it sooner.’

‘And why,’ asked the coroner gently, ‘do you imagine Mr Pinkerton advised you so strongly to stick to your story?’

Armorel actually laughed. ‘Why, there’s only one reason, isn’t there? He must have thought I’d shot Eric myself. It’s just the sort of ridiculous idea Pinkie – Mr Pinkerton, I mean, would get hold of.’

‘I see. Thank you, Miss Scott-Davies.’ The coroner looked undecided, and glanced towards Mr Gifford.

He rose. ‘Have I your permission to put a few questions to the witness?’

‘Certainly, Mr Gifford. Certainly.’

I rose too. ‘Mr Coroner, before Mr Gifford does so, I ask you earnestly to let me give further evidence. I have carefully refrained from interrupting, despite the utmost provocation, but the evidence I wish to give is of the utmost importance.’

‘Your request is most irregular, Mr Pinkerton,’ temporized the coroner.

‘Oh,
do
sit down, Pinkie,’ said Armorel clearly. ‘I told you I was going to tell them the truth. Don’t begin muddling things up again.’

I had to disregard her, and kept my eyes on the coroner.

‘Very well. If you really think you can assist this inquiry by doing so. Miss Scott-Davies, will you stand down for a moment?’

Armorel had no option but to withdraw. As she did so she said: ‘For heaven’s sake, Pinkie, don’t make more of an ass of yourself than you can help. ’

I disregarded that too, and the laugh that followed it.

‘You wish to say –’ prompted the coroner.

‘I wish to say,’ I replied calmly, in spite of the tumult of my feelings, ‘that the evidence which Miss Scott-Davies has just given is untrue in every particular. I did not see her on the occasion she mentions, we had no conversation, to the best of my knowledge she was on the hillside the whole time, and so far am I from suspecting that she shot her cousin that the truth is that she suspects that I shot him, and has invented this complete fabrication in order to shield me. That is all I wish to say, with the earnest request that you take no account of her story at all.’

‘I see,’ said the coroner, though I do not think he did.

‘Oh, Lord, Pinkie,’ I heard Armorel wail, ‘You see,’ she added to the coroner, ‘he really does suspect me. That’s why he’s trying to shield me. Can’t you
make
him speak the truth?’

This is all most irregular,’ sighed the little coroner, with whom in other circumstances I might have felt sympathy.

Mr Gifford suddenly popped up. ‘With your permission, sir – Mr Pinkerton, you heard the last witness describe how you plucked a wild rose. Did you or did you not pluck a wild rose during that period?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘You swear to that?’

‘I do.’

‘Oh, Pinkie!’ came a reproachful
sotto voce
from Armorel.

‘And you, Miss Scott-Davies, swear that Mr Pinkerton did so, and dropped it when the second shot was fired?’

‘Yes, as if it had suddenly pricked him.’

‘You can show us on the plan exactly where Mr Pinkerton was standing at the time?’

‘Well, not exactly; near enough.’

Mr Gifford turned to the coroner. ‘Then I suggest that Superintendent Hancock be recalled and asked if the police at any time found a rose at, or near, the spot that Miss Scott-Davies indicated.’

The coroner brightened. ‘An excellent suggestion. You have the plan there? Now, Superintendent, can you tell us that?’

‘I can tell you at once, sir, that we didn’t find a wild rose anywhere; but that doesn’t say there wasn’t one. We weren’t looking for wild roses. But if it was there, it should be there still. With your permission I’ll take Miss Scott-Davies with me at once and look, in the place she indicates.’

‘Exactly. Admirable.’

‘It’s a complete waste of time, sir,’ I warned him.

‘That will do, Mr Pinkerton,’ he returned, with unnecessary severity. ‘You may stand down. In the meantime we will hear the next witness. Mrs – er – yes, Mrs Fitzwilliam, please.’

I resumed my seat between Ethel and John. I will say nothing of the state of my feelings.

Somehow I managed to focus my attention on the evidence Mrs Fitzwilliam was giving. She had little of importance to say, beyond confirming my own testimony that the first shot sounded near and the second much farther away, and that she had heard me shouting below. She had not heard the sound of voices.

Her evidence was completed by the time Armorel and the superintendent returned.

Without a word the superintendent, looking grimmer than ever, marched up to the coroner and laid something on the table in front of him. I gazed at it in stupefaction. It was faded, bruised, and crushed, but indubitably it was the remains of a wild rose.

The coroner directed it to be given to the jury, and while they were examining it whispered with the superintendent.

I felt that a vital moment was slipping past me, but I could not decide what to do. I looked searchingly at Armorel, but she was talking and smiling with Mrs Fitzwilliam.

‘I shall now,’ said the coroner in a loud voice, ‘adjourn the court till three days’ time. Eleven o’clock on Thursday morning, please, gentlemen of the jury. All witnesses must attend, including those who have given evidence already.’

‘Pest!’ I heard Morton Harrogate Bradley remark quite audibly. ‘That means we’ve got to come over again.’

We passed into the sunshine outside.

‘Well, anyhow, it seems that
you
don’t need me any longer,’ Sheringham said. ‘You’re cleared.’

‘But I keep telling you that the story was a fabrication from beginning to end,’ I replied, with no little exasperation. Really, Sheringham was being very difficult.

‘I know you do. In fact, Tapers, you protest too much. If you didn’t, I might have believed you; as it is, I’m beginning to share the official opinion that Armorel’s story is true.’

I passed over his unwarranted use of Miss Scott-Davies’ Christian name, though in my state of irritation it annoyed me considerably. ‘I denied it on oath,’ I said coldly.

‘I know you did. And the chief constable told me he considered it a dam’ sporting piece of perjury. Most unofficial remark. But then I’ve often noticed that chief constables are unofficial. Much more so than their superintendents. Now Hancock is merely cross with Armorel for spoiling his pretty case against you.’

‘But she hasn’t spoiled it, if I continue to insist that she is not speaking the truth.’

Sheringham made a foolish grimace. ‘Really, Tapers, I can’t understand you. You wire for me to come down here and get you out of a mess, and when someone else very kindly does it for you, much more effectually than I could, you scream and kick and refuse your oats. Do you
want
to put a rope round your neck?’

‘What I want or do not want is my own affair.’

‘Well, I’m glad it isn’t mine,’ Sheringham said dryly, ‘because you certainly don’t seem to know what it is. In fact, my good Tapers, what you really want is a jolly good kicking, such as I seem to remember having administered to you once or twice in the days of our childhood, to knock a bit of sense into you. It’s remarkable how they improved you. Remember?’

I disregarded this offensive irrelevancy. ‘If the worst comes to the worst, I am prepared to admit in open court, under oath, that I
did
shoot Scott-Davies,’ I replied, perhaps angrily. ‘Kindly remember that.’

‘Very well,’ returned Sheringham, with maddening equanimity. ‘The perfect little hero. Very pretty. They’ll probably clap you. But they won’t believe you, you know. Oh, dear me, no; not for a moment.’

‘And why not?’

‘Because Armorel told her story far too well – whether it was truth or fancy. You didn’t cut a desperate figure at all in it; you cut a comic one. She made you out a figure of fun, and there’s no bigger step than from the desperate to the comic. If she really was inventing, that was a stroke of genius. Everyone saw at once, you see, that to suspect funny old Tapers, who says his prayers to wild roses and jumps when a gun goes off in the distance, of committing a cold-blooded murder was simply too ludicrous. Out of the question, altogether apart from the alibi she gave you.’

‘Certainly it was not a pleasant experience, being laughed at in public.’

‘No, but it’s better than being hanged in private,’ retorted Sheringham with asperity. ‘Good God, man, surely you haven’t got a mind as petty as all that. Aren’t you grateful to the girl? You ought to be following her about on your knees with gratitude, if you
are
telling the truth and she wasn’t.’

‘Look here, Sheringham,’ I burst out, ‘if you persist in being offensive, there is no use in continuing this conversation. I am very much indebted to you for coming down so promptly; and now, as you point out, that I am cleared, I must manage the affair in my own way. The question of my gratitude to Miss Scott-Davies, or the reverse, hardly concerns us at the moment.’

It was after dinner the same evening. Sheringham had arrived extremely late for the meal, when the rest of us had nearly finished. He had not vouchsafed any explanation at the time, but had told me since that he had been having a long conversation with Colonel Grace, the chief constable, who (in Sheringham’s words) ‘over a couple of gin-and-bitters had become most gratifyingly expansive’. We were now discussing the situation alone in the study, John having placed the room at our disposal and withdrawn.

Sheringham looked at me critically. I had spoken with unwonted heat, but he did not seem to take my words at all amiss. Instead he looked at me with such cool interest that my anger began to abate into uneasiness.

‘Yes,’ he said calmly. ‘I see. You’re frightened, on Armorel’s behalf. Of course. Damned silly of me not to realize that before. You think that in pulling your head out of the noose she’s in danger of having put her own in. Well, she is, of course; we needn’t disguise the fact. Are you in love with her, Tapers?’