The Story Behind the Verdict. Frank Danby
countenance, not unlike that of the late Benjamin Disraeli. The witness spoke in a pleasantly modulated voice with a slight drawl.
"I am an Etonian; practically self-educated."
Mr. Bull directed him, somewhat abruptly, to answer the questions without interpolations. Keightley Wilbur smiled at the reporters and shrugged his shoulders.
"Since I left New College, Oxford, I have rented the houseboat, the Marguerite, moored between Datchet and Windsor. Yes, I have entertained there many distinguished English and foreign guests."
He then explained unnecessarily that he should hardly apply the word "distinguished" to Pierre Lamotte. He preferred to call him a "promising young writer."
It was easy to see the witness was irritating the coroner by the manner in which he gave his evidence.
"You know that the book he published here was withdrawn from circulation?"
"I wrote to him immediately after that lamentable and absurd occurrence. I apologised on behalf of my country. Since then we have maintained a correspondence."
"Go on, please."
"When I heard that Mr. Lamotte proposed to visit England, I invited him to my house. He stayed with me last week, and we discussed L'Ecrevisse, It had been translated from the French, but I had to explain to him the necessity that it should be re-translated into English. Sir George Alexander, Lamotte, and I lunched together at my house on Thursday, and spent the afternoon arguing how to make the play sufficiently innocuous for the censor and the prurient purists without denuding it of value. Sir George was greatly concerned over this. Pierre Lamotte and I spoke of deodorisation, and advised him to call in a chemist's assistant."
There was some laughter in the court, immediately and sternly suppressed by the coroner, who threatened to have the court cleared.
In continuation, Keightley Wilbur said that, after the long interview with Sir George, he and Pierre Lamotte went down together from Paddington by the 5.5 to Windsor, arriving at 6.3. It was a beautiful evening; they changed into flannels, and sat in the dinghy talking about Puritanism and the play, until it was time to dress for dinner.
"Was there anyone else upon the houseboat—any servants or visitors?"
"There were two ladies, my Japanese valet who waited upon us, and, I believe, a couple of female servants—a cook and something that is called either a tweeny or a slavey."
In answer to a juryman the coroner said the two ladies and the servants were in court, and would be called in due course.
Keightley Wilbur answered the remaining questions put to him in a somewhat bored manner. He seemed to have lost interest in the affair.
"We dined. I don't know what we drank. Kito may be able to tell you. Not much, I should think: we were all abstemious. The ladies may have had champagne. Afterwards there was a little music. Madame Bosquet played to us; Miss Blaney sang. It was all very agreeable."
"Was there any other visitor?"
"Dr. Nicholson pulled up after dinner, moored his boat alongside, and came on board."
"How long did he remain?"
"About half an hour, I should think."
"Then the singing and playing were resumed until——"
"I make a point of never knowing the time."
The answer annoyed the coroner, who made a remark intended to be sarcastic. Mr. Wilbur replied, pertinently, or impertinently, and there was a sharp little exchange of epigrams that kept the reporters busy. When matters became normal again Mr. Bull asked sarcastically:
"Perhaps you will not mind telling the court if you and Mr. Lamotte sat up later than the ladies?"
"I am pleased to oblige the court with the information. I trust my meaning will not be misconstrued. We retired practically simultaneously."
Mr. Bull ignored the innuendo, and asked:
"During the evening had there been a quarrel or dispute, or any break in the harmony?"
"There was certainly one break in the harmony."
The jury leaned forward, the reporters sharpened their pencils, and Mr. Bull felt pleased with himself for his question.
"Go on, please."
"One of the strings of the piano gave way: the G of the third octave, I believe."
The laughter gurgled again, and again Mr. Bull said he would not permit these exhibitions, rebuking Mr. Wilbur for his flippancy. Mr. Wilbur said wearily that he had been answering futile questions for over an hour.
"You can throw no further light on the case?"
"That, I understand, is your affair."
He was told he could stand down. The hour was late, and the court adjourned until the next day. In the meantime the jury were taken to see the houseboat and the room in which Mr. Lamotte had slept.
The Marguerite was one of the best boats on the river, luxuriously fitted; the drawing-room in Chinese style with hanging lamps that tinkled musically, black satin divans and embroidered cushions. Many-coloured Chinese glass pictures were on the walls and fine kakemonos. The dining-room was Florentine, and the bedrooms merely comfortable. There was nothing on the boat to suggest tragedy.
The tender was also visited, and found to contain kitchen and servants' accommodation of the most commonplace description. Two of the three bedrooms in the Marguerite had been occupied by the ladies. The third, from the window of which the unfortunate French dramatist was supposed to have walked into the river, was nearest to the dining-room.
The first witness called after the adjournment was Kito, the Japanese manservant. He was intelligent and non-committal, short of stature and speech. He said he had heard nothing in the nature of a disagreement whilst waiting at dinner. When he had cleared away, placed the tantalus and glasses on the dining-room table, and put out the silver box filled with Sandorides Lucana Turkish cigarettes, his work for the evening was over. Mr. Wilbur never kept him up when he had guests. He knew nothing of what happened between ten o'clock that night, when he went to bed as usual, and nine o'clock the next morning when the police came, and he woke his master.
The two ladies who followed Kito into the witness-box added little to the story.
Madame Bosquet, a Frenchwoman, whose evidence had to be translated, was very voluble and a little incoherent, about thirty-five years of age, with white hair surmounting a young face, a little made-up, but still beautiful. Her eyes were soft and dark, and she was admirably dressed. She described a pleasant evening, charming company, and said vehemently that between such men as her eminent host and his no less eminent guest no possible cause of friction could have arisen. She added that anything of the nature of a struggle would have been impossible without herself or Miss Blaney becoming aware of it. The bedrooms were all quite close.
Here formal evidence was asked for and given as to whether Mr. Lamotte had occupied his room. The bed had certainly been slept in, was disarranged, and had not been made tidy when the police made their matutinal visit. The French windows, reaching to the floor, were wide open. There was no disorder in the room.
Ellaline Blaney, who was pale and fair and frightened, exquisitely pretty, and understood to be upon the stage, said "Yes" or "No" to every question put to her, and seemed not to understand the significance of any of them. The climax came when she was gently interrogated as to the length of her acquaintance with Mr. Wilbur, and the nature of it. She was understood to say he had been very kind to her, and paid for her singing lessons. She then burst into tears, became hysterical, and was allowed to step down.
The cook and the soiled little maid-of-all-work talked a great deal and said nothing. They had both heard noises in the night, and one of them had dreamt of calamity. They knew neither Mr. Wilbur nor any of the guests by sight, having been engaged by Kito.
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