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In the Mayor's Parlour

<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> <h3>THE PARLOUR-MAID</h3> T hat the appearance of Louisa Speck in the witness-box came as something more than an intense surprise to at any rate two particular persons in that court was evident at once to Brent's watchful eye. Mrs. Mallett, a close observer of what was going on, started as her parlour-maid's name was called, and lifting her eye-glass surveyed the girl with a wondering stare of prolonged inspection. And in the dock Krevin Crood also let a start of astonishment escape him; he, too, stared at Louisa Speck, and a frown showed itself between his eyebrows, as if he were endeavouring to explain her presence to himself. Suddenly it cleared, and he indulged his fancies with a sharp laugh, and turning to Simon made some whispered observation. Simon nodded sullenly, as if he comprehended; from that point forward he kept his small eyes firmly fixed on the witness. Tansley, too, noticed these things, and bent towards his companion with a meaning glance. "This young woman knows something!" he muttered. "And those two chaps in the dock know what it is!" [Pg 259] The young woman upon whom all eyes were fixed was perhaps the most self-possessed person present. She answered the preliminary questions as coolly as if she had been giving evidence in murder cases as a regular thing. Louisa Speck. Twenty-six years of age. Been in the employ of Mrs. Mallett, of the Bank House, for three years. Still in that employment, as far as she knew. What did she mean by that? Well, that Mrs. Mallett had left the house some days before, and that since yesterday afternoon Mr. Mallett had not been there, and, accordingly, neither she nor the other servants knew exactly how things stood. "Just so," observed Meeking. "Somewhat uncertain, eh? Very well." He paused a moment, glanced at his papers, and suddenly leaned forward towards the witness-box with a sharp, direct look at its occupant. "Now then!" he said. "When did you first hear of the murder of the late Mayor, Mr. Wallingford?" Louisa Speck's answer came promptly: "The night it happened." "What time—and who told you of it?" "About nine o'clock. Robertshaw, the policeman, told me. I was at the front door, looking out on the market square, and he was going past." "I see. So you remember that evening very well?" "Quite well." "Do you remember the previous evening—equally well?" "Yes!" "Were you at the Bank House that evening—the evening before the murder?" [Pg 260] "I was." "What was going on there that evening? Anything that makes you particularly remember it?" "Yes." "What, now?" "Well, Mrs. Mallett went away that day to visit her sister, Mrs. Coppinger, for a day or two. About noon Mr. Mallett told me and cook that he wanted to have some gentlemen to dinner that evening, and we were to prepare accordingly." "I see. Sort of special dinner, eh?" "Yes." "Did the gentlemen come?" "Yes." "Who were they?" "Mr. Coppinger and Alderman Crood." "What time was that?" "Between six and half-past." "What happened after their arrival?" "They went into the morning-room with Mr. Mallett. I took some brown sherry in there and glasses. Soon after that, Mr. Mallett went out. I was just inside the dining-room as he crossed the hall. He told me there'd very likely be another gentleman to dinner, and I must lay another cover. He went out then, and was away about ten minutes. Then he came back with Mr. Krevin Crood." "Came back with Mr. Krevin Crood. Did you see them come in together?" "I let them in." "Did you hear anything said as they entered?" "Yes, I heard Mr. Krevin Crood say that he wasn't dressed for dinner-parties. Mr. Mallett then told [Pg 261]me to take Mr. Krevin upstairs and get him anything he wanted." "Did you take Mr. Krevin upstairs?" "Yes. I took him up to Mr. Mallett's dressing-room. I showed him the hot water arrangement, got him clean towels, and asked him what he wanted. He said he wanted a clean shirt, a collar, and a handkerchief." "A handkerchief?" "Yes, a handkerchief." "Did you get him these things?" "I showed him where to get them. I opened the drawers in which Mr. Mallett's shirts, collars and handkerchiefs are kept, so that he could help himself. Then I asked him if there was anything more I could get him. He said there was nothing but a clothes brush. I got him that, and left him." "When did you see him next?" "About twenty minutes after, when he came downstairs and went into the morning-room to the other gentlemen." "Was he smartened up then?" "He was smart enough—smarter than the others, I should say." "Had he taken one of Mr. Mallett's shirts?" "Yes, one of his very best white ones." "Very good. Now then, talking about shirts, who looks after the laundry affairs at the Bank House?" "I do." "You send the linen to the laundry?" "Yes." "And receive it and put it away when it comes back?" [Pg 262] "Yes." "Always?" "Always!" "When does it go, and when does it return?" "It goes on Monday morning and comes home on Saturday afternoon." "Do you put it away on Saturday afternoon?" "Not finally. It goes into a hot cupboard to air. Then on Monday, some time, I put it away in the proper place—sort it out." "I see. Do you remember sorting it out and putting away the different articles in their proper places on the Monday before this little dinner-party?" "Yes, I do." "Did you notice the presence of any article which didn't belong to the Mallett family?" "Yes—at least, I was doubtful." "Doubtful, eh? Well, what was it?" "A gentleman's handkerchief." "You weren't sure that it was Mr. Mallett's?" "I wasn't sure that it wasn't. And I didn't think it was." "Why were you uncertain?" "Well, this wasn't like Mr. Mallett's handkerchiefs. He has dozens of them, nearly all fancy ones, with coloured borders. This was a very fine cambric handkerchief—I'd never seen one like it before. But, still, I wasn't certain that it wasn't Mr. Mallett's after all." "Why?" "Because sometimes when Mr. Mallett was away for the day he'd buy a spare handkerchief—he's a lot of odd handkerchiefs that he's brought home [Pg 263]in his pockets. I thought this might have been got that way." "You didn't mention its presence to anybody?" "No—I didn't think of it." "Well, what did you do with the handkerchief about which you were doubtful?" "I laid it on top of one of several piles of handkerchiefs that were in Mr. Mallett's handkerchief drawer in the dressing-room." "Why did you put it on top?" "In case any inquiry was made about it from Marriners' Laundry." "Was any inquiry made?" "No." "Now was that drawer you have just spoken of the drawer that you pulled open for Mr. Krevin Crood?" "Yes." "Was the handkerchief there then?" "Yes, it was there!" "You saw it?" "I saw it." "Have you ever seen it since?" "Never!" "Do you know if Mr. Krevin Crood took it out of the drawer?" "No!" "Did you see it in his possession that evening?" "No! I didn't. But it wasn't in the drawer next morning." "You are sure of that?" "Positive. I went into Mr. Mallett's dressing-room very early next morning, and I noticed that Mr. Krevin [Pg 264]had left the drawers half-open. The handkerchief drawer stuck a little, and I pulled it right out before pushing it in. I noticed then that the handkerchief had gone." "Did you conclude that Mr. Krevin had taken it?" "No, I don't think so. I didn't conclude anything. If I thought anything, it would be that Mr. Mallett had taken it. Mr. Mallett would think nothing of taking half a dozen handkerchiefs a day." "But the handkerchief was there when you opened the drawer for Mr. Krevin that evening, and it wasn't there when you looked into the drawer next morning early? That so?" "Yes, that's so." "Very well! Now then, about this little dinner. Mr. Mallett had three guests, Mr. Simon Crood, Mr. Krevin Crood, Mr. Coppinger? Nobody else?" "No; no one else." "Was it a nice dinner?" "It was a very good dinner." "Wine?" "There were several sorts of wine." "What time was dinner?" "About a quarter-past seven." "And what time did the gentlemen rise from table?" "They didn't rise from table. When dinner was over, Mr. Mallett decanted some very special port that he has in the wine-cellar, and they settled down to it round the dinner-table, talking." "I see. Did you hear any of the conversation?" "No, I didn't. I carried two decanters of the port [Pg 265]into the dining-room for Mr. Mallett, and got out port glasses from the sideboard, and after that I never went into the room again." "Until what hour did Mr. Mallett's guests remain with him?" "Well, Alderman Crood and Mr. Krevin Crood left at about a quarter to eleven. They went away together. Mr. Coppinger stopped till about half-past eleven." Meeking paused at this point, put his hand underneath the papers which lay in front of him and produced a cardboard box. From this, after slowly undoing various wrappings, he took the fragment of stained and charred handkerchief which had been found in the Mayor's Parlour, and passed it across to the witness. "Take that in your hand and look at it carefully," he said. "Now, do you recognize that as part of the handkerchief to which I have been referring?" "It's the same sort of stuff," replied Louisa. "I should say it was part of that handkerchief. It's just like it." "Same material?—an unusual material?" "I think it is the same handkerchief. It's an unusually broad hem—I noticed that at the time." "To the best of your belief is that the handkerchief you've been talking about?" "Yes," declared Louisa Speck, this time without hesitation. "It is!" Meeking sat down and glanced at Simon Crood's solicitor. Stedman accepted the challenge and, rising, threw some scornful meaning into his first question to the witness. [Pg 266] "Who got you to tell all this tale?" he asked satirically. "Who got at you?" Louisa Speck bridled. "Nobody got at me!" she retorted. "What do you mean by such a question?" "You don't mean to tell their Worships that you haven't been induced to come forward and tell all this?" suggested Stedman incredulously. "Come, now! Who helped you to refresh your memory, and to put all this together?" "Nobody helped me," replied Louisa Speck, with rising indignation. "Do you think I'm not capable of doing things on my own? I can use my eyes and ears as well as you can—and perhaps better!" "Answer my question!" said Stedman, as a laugh rose against him. "Who got you to go to the police?" "Nobody got me to go to the police! I went to the police on my own account. I read the newspaper about what took place at the inquest—the last inquest, I mean—and as soon as I heard about the handkerchief, I knew very well that that was the one I'd noticed in our laundry, and so I went to see Mr. Hawthwaite. Mr. Hawthwaite's known what I had to tell you for a good while now." Stedman was taken aback. But he put a definite question. "On your oath, did you see that handkerchief in Mr. Krevin Crood's possession that night he was at Mr. Mallett's?" he asked. "I've already told him I never did," retorted Louisa Speck, pointing at Meeking. "I didn't see him with it. But I'm very certain he got it!" Stedman waved the witness away, and Meeking [Pg 267]proceeded to put in the depositions taken before the Coroner in regard to the finding of the fragment of handkerchief and its ownership, and called evidence to show that the piece just produced was that which had been picked up from the hearth in the Mayor's Parlour on the evening of the murder, soon after the finding of the dead man, and to prove that it had remained in the custody of the police ever since. The fragment went the round of the bench of magistrates, and Tansley whispered to Brent that if Meeking could prove that Krevin Crood had taken that handkerchief out of Mallett's drawer, and had thrown it away on the following evening in the Mayor's Parlour, Krevin's neck was in danger. "But there's a link missing yet," he murmured. "How did Krevin get at Wallingford? They've got to prove that! However, Meeking's evidently well primed and knows what he's after. What's coming next?" What came next was the glancing of the barrister's eye towards a venerable, grey-bearded man who sat in the front row of spectators, leaning on a gold-headed cane. He rose as Meeking looked at him, and came slowly forward—a curious figure in those sombre surroundings. <hr class="large" />[Pg 268] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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