The Progress of a Crime by Julian Symons

Author:Julian Symons
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2020-12-29T00:00:00+00:00

27

Just a week before Christmas, Magnus Newton came down from London in the company of the defence solicitor, Charles Earl of Earl, Sheldick and Partners. They sat in a private sitting-room at the Grand, waiting for George Gardner and his daughter. Magnus Newton stumped round the room on his little legs, took one glance out of the window at the gleaming wet streets and said in a grumbling voice, “The father’s a red-hot Labour councillor, is that right?”

“I believe so.” Looking at the two one would have thought that Earl, elegant and darkly handsome, was the barrister. Newton was short, puffy, red-faced, and appeared chronically irritable. In cross-examination, however, he used this irritable manner to good purpose, giving an impression of just managing to contain himself in the face of impenetrable stupidity, which often put a self-confident witness out of his stride. At times, however, Charles Earl found himself wishing that Newton would reserve his petulance for cross-examination. He had maintained a sort of subterranean grumbling about various aspects of the case all the way down in the train.

“We certainly don’t want politics drawn into this affair, it’s messy enough already. Still, if he’s a councillor, I suppose it means the boy was well enough brought up. What time are we due to see him?”

“At four o’clock.”

“I’m glad I’ve got a thick overcoat, it’s damned cold in prison. Damned cold in here for that matter. Why don’t they have a decent coal fire instead of these filthy radiators?”

The solicitor knew perfectly well the reason for Newton’s annoyance. Very few counsel nowadays care to interview a client they are defending on a murder charge. They prefer that the solicitor should act as intermediary, remaining themselves detached from personal contact. But in this case the Banner had insisted—or, rather, had conveyed through the assistant editor, Edgar Crawley, the wish of the proprietor, Lord Brackman—that Newton should visit his client. There was a Banner photographer in the hotel now who would take pictures of George and Jill Gardner in conference with Newton and Earl, a picture of barrister and solicitor at the prison gate, and pictures of them visiting Far Wether and Platt’s Flats. It would make a picture feature, and Newton was a glutton for publicity. At the same time, he accepted the whole thing with a bad grace.

There was a knock at the door. Earl said with some relief, “Here they are.” As the Gardners came in he nodded to the man who had brought them up and said, “Five minutes.”

As he shook hands with the Gardners, Newton summed them up. The man a typical working-class figure, ill at ease in his best suit. A fine head, though, good broad shoulders, a look of awkward honesty. Upon the whole Newton was favourably impressed. The daughter was pretty enough, in an unpretentious, unfashionable way. Newton, who liked flamboyant beauty, paid little attention to her.

They had been talking for a little while when the photographer came in. “Is it all right now?”

Earl said, “All right.

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