Murder at Monk's Barn by Cecil Waye

Author:Cecil Waye
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2021-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVI

Vivienne and Christopher travelled to Yatebury by an early morning train on Wednesday, and went straight to the Magistrates’ Court. It was lucky that they were early, for the courtroom was nearly full when they arrived, and they secured almost the last of the available seats.

They had some time to wait before Superintendent Swayne appeared, leading a procession to a group of chairs at the front of the Court. “Here they come!” whispered Vivienne. “That tall man is Mr. Cartwright, and the woman in black with him must be Mrs. Wynter. I wish I could see her better!”

“It’s rather odd that they should bring the witnesses into Court like this,” replied Christopher. “And it’s been puzzling me for the last day or two why Swayne hasn’t called on Phyllis to attend. It looks to me as though all he meant to do was to apply for a further remand, and has merely summoned the essential witnesses, in case his application is refused. Ah, there goes our client!”

Austin appeared, and was shepherded into a chair next to Frank Cartwright. The two men nodded curtly, and Austin moved towards his sister-in-law. After that, he rather pointedly edged away a trifle, and appeared to become absorbed in his own thoughts.

Christopher frowned. “It’s a pity for that young man to advertise the fact that he doesn’t get on with his brother’s wife or friends,” he whispered to Vivienne. “In a place like this everybody is full of curiosity, and on the look out for the slightest thing to gossip about. To say nothing of the reporters, to whom that sort of thing is a godsend. It all creates a bad impression, and makes people talk.”

Vivienne’s reply was interrupted by the entry of the magistrates. A full bench had assembled, and the members of it filed in slowly, wearing expressions of portentous gravity. The effect produced was not unlike the opening chorus of Iolanthe. The chairman, a much respected local landowner, led the way. He conveyed the impression that one might expect from him a rough-and-ready justice, tempered with a rather contemptuous leniency towards any prisoner who might be brought before him.

Most of those who followed him looked common-place and inclined to be aware of their own importance. Among them one only picked out a figure here and there. A short, saturnine figure with a limp, a tall and angular middle-aged woman, with a hard face which showed no traces of the milk of human kindness. They all took their seats, under the concentrated gaze of the public in the body of the court. In the hush which ensued after the scraping of their chairs had subsided, a single nervous cough of the packed throng echoed and re-echoed with startling persistency.

The Magistrates’ clerk rose and gabbled something in a hard, metallic voice. He subsided as suddenly as he had risen, and a sudden stir of expectancy thrilled the whole hall. There was a shuffling of feet, men and women half rose from their seats, craning over one another’s shoulders.

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