Collected works of j s f.., p.829
Collected Works of J S Fletcher, page 829
‘Very much obliged to you, Mr Crabtree,’ I said. ‘Now let us hear Mr Sergeant’s opinion.’
Mr Sergeant, another rustic gentleman, was possessed of a similar spirit of diffidence. He too shook his head doubtfully as he opened his lips.
‘Why, sir,’ he began, ‘there seems to be some dispute between us on this here matter. Most of the gentlemen that’s spoken says one thing, and Mr Heaviside says another. I think, myself, it’s a very doubtful matter. And I’ve been wondering, Mr Foreman — I’ve never been on a jury before, so you’ll excuse me if I say aught that’s wrong — but I’ve been wondering if I couldn’t make a proposal?’
‘Certainly, Mr Sergeant,’ I replied. ‘What is it?’
‘Well, couldn’t we send downstairs to his lordship and ask him to tell us what to say? I’m very sure, sir,’ continued Mr Sergeant, looking his wonder at the smiles which his suggestion produced, ‘I’m very sure that his lordship knows a great deal more about it than we do, and whatever he said, I should be agreeable to. If — —’
‘I’m afraid that’s quite out of the question, Mr Sergeant,’ I said. ‘We are the sole arbiters of this young man’s fate! It is for us to say whether he’s guilty or not guilty. Nobody can question our verdict. Nobody can ask us to give any reason for our verdict. And our verdict is final. Have you any more to say, Mr Sergeant?’
‘Nay, I think not, sir,’ replied Mr Sergeant, ‘except, in the main, I agree with Mr Crabtree and Mr Williams. Wherever there’s a doubt, I think the young fellow downstairs ought to benefit. Hanging’s a very serious matter, sir.’
‘Give us your views, Mr Foreman,’ said one or two members, speaking together. ‘Sum things up, like. And then let’s know where we are,’ added another. ‘It’ll be an anxious time for yon lad, waiting to know what’s going to be done with him!’
I need not set down what I said in answer to this request. I had formed my own opinion about the evidence before ever we retired from the jury-box. I did not think that evidence strong enough to justify a conviction, and I said so now, and gave my reasons. And that done, I suggested that I should now take a show of hands, so that we might know definitely where, after more than three and a half hours’ talk, we had got to.
This I immediately did. The result was as follows:
For an acquittal — eleven.
For a conviction — one.
The one, of course, was Mr Heaviside. And, looking at his grim and determined countenance, I realized that he was going to give still more trouble.
4
An awkward silence followed Mr Heaviside’s emphatic declaration, and, of course, it fell to my lot to break it.
‘Mr Heaviside,’ I said, as politely as possible, ‘there are eleven of us in favour of an acquittal: you are the only one against it. May I suggest that you should reconsider matters?’
‘You can suggest what you please, sir!’ he replied sourly. ‘I’ve said my say, and it’s all I intend to say. I’ve as much right to my opinion as what any other gentleman has — —’
‘We’re not questioning your rights at all, Mr Heaviside,’ I said. ‘All I’m asking you to do is to — think again! Here we are, twelve of us — eleven of us are unanimous — —’
He let out a scornful exclamation.
‘Unanimous!’ he sneered. ‘Why, there’s them here’ — he pointed to two or three of the last speakers— ‘two or three here as hasn’t got minds o’ their own! They’d say anything if need be! Them at this end o’ the table has only voted with you for the sake of agreement. I’m made o’ different stuff, I am! I say guilty — and I mean it and shall say no other. It makes no difference to me if the voting’s eleven to one — one’s as good as eleven in a case o’ this sort. Didn’t I take the oath same as all of you? What’s that oath say? “According to the evidence.” What? Well, I’ve listened to the evidence, and I say — guilty!’
Amidst a murmur of dissenting voices Mr Maydue spoke.
‘Mr Foreman,’ he said, ‘doesn’t it go by a majority? If there’s seven for, and five against, for instance, doesn’t the seven have it?’
‘No!’ I replied. ‘The verdict must be unanimous.’
‘Wouldn’t it do,’ persisted Mr Maydue, ‘if we went back and said that eleven of us were for not guilty, and one for guilty?’
‘No!’ I said. ‘It would not do at all. Whatever verdict is given, it must be the verdict of all of us.’
‘And supposing,’ asked Mr Williams, ‘supposing, sir, that he’ — here he cocked a thumb at Mr Heaviside— ‘supposing he won’t come to our way of thinking, what should we do?’
‘We go back to court, Mr Williams, and report that we are unable to agree upon a verdict,’ I replied.
‘That’s a nice state of affairs!’ remarked Mr Crabtree. ‘We shall look a nice lot, not to be able to say one way or another!’
‘I hope we shall come to an agreement yet, gentlemen,’ I said. ‘I think that Mr Heaviside, if he reflects a little, will see that it will be in the interests of justice if he falls in with our view of the case. Just think the matter over again, Mr Heaviside! And, as you’re probably aware, if there’s any point on which you wish for further light, it’s always possible to approach his lordship for counsel, or explanation — —’
‘I want no counsel nor yet explanation from his lordship, nor from you neither!’ retorted Mr Heaviside angrily. ‘What I want is to see you gentlemen come round to my way o’ thinking. I want a conviction! It’s a fair puzzle to me that you can think otherwise than what I do. Yon lad there — a real young bad ‘un! — murdered and robbed Maidment as sure as my name’s what it is, and a name, mind you, that’s held in high respect, and I consider that it ‘ud be nothing less than a disgrace to let a young scamp like that go free on the world and society again. And I’ve been on many a jury before, and I know what lasting it out means, and I’m prepared for it. I’ve seen a case or two like this in my time, and I’ve known where a minority of two or three has beaten a majority of eight or nine, and I reckon I’ve as much endurance as what you have! I’m prepared to sit here all the rest of the afternoon, and all the evening, and all the night, if need be — I came prepared!’
With these words, and with a scornful smile of superiority, Mr Heaviside produced from one pocket a very capacious flask, and from another a large packet of what appeared to be sandwiches, and waved both triumphantly in our faces.
Out of a general murmur of disapproval and resentment which ran all round the table Mr Maydue’s voice made itself heard.
‘I should say more than one can play at that game, Mr Foreman,’ he said. ‘Mr Heaviside mustn’t think that he’s going to get the better of us in that way! I’ve got an old encyclopædia at home, and I read up in it about the duties and privileges and so on of jurymen before I came here to these Assizes. Now it certainly says that juries are to be kept “without meat, drink, or fire” until they arrive at a verdict, but it also says that they can have reasonable refreshment if ordered by the Judge. And as Mr Heaviside seems inclined to dare us, Mr Foreman, I move that you take steps to get the rest of us some tea. It’s getting on to seven o’clock.’
Amidst a murmur of gratification at Mr Maydue’s suggestion — countered by a sort of obvious defiance from Mr Heaviside — I approached our guardian patiently waiting outside our door, and intimated that, subject to his lordship’s approval, we should like some refreshment. He looked at me narrowly.
‘Likely to be long, sir?’ he inquired.
‘Some little time,’ I replied, guardedly. ‘We are not yet in view of a unanimous agreement — it is a difficult case.’
‘It’s like this, you see, sir,’ he said, confidentially, ‘if it’s going to be say another hour or so, I should say — well, a cup of tea and a mouthful of bread and butter. But if you’re likely to be rather long over it — well, then, I should suggest tea and something more substantial — sandwiches, eh?’
‘I think you had better say sandwiches,’ I answered. ‘It is now some time since lunch, and there is still a good deal to talk about.’
He nodded intelligently, and I went back and was duly locked up with my eleven fellow-jurors again. Mr Ewbank approached me: I had already noticed that the ten men who were for an acquittal had risen from the table and were standing about the big room in groups, talking. Only Mr Heaviside remained at the table. He sat where I had left him, and he was busy with his flask and his sandwiches.
‘I should like a word with you, Mr Foreman,’ said Mr Ewbank. ‘There’s something I think you ought to know.’
‘Yes?’ I replied. ‘What is it?’
He turned and motioned Mr Coward, the accountant from Hebsworth, to come to us. We moved away from the others into a quiet corner of the big room. Looking from one to the other I saw that both seemed to be impressed by whatever it was they wanted to say.
‘Mr Foreman,’ began Ewbank, ‘Mr Coward here has been telling me something, and I consider what he’s told me to be of a very serious nature and that you should be made aware of it before we go any further. The fact is, Mr Foreman, that after hearing what Mr Coward has just told me I’m of the decided opinion that Mr Heaviside’s attitude is not due to his conception of this case — I mean his conception of the evidence — but to a personal prejudice. He never ought to have been on this jury!’
‘What do you mean by personal prejudices?’ I asked. ‘Do you mean against the prisoner?’
‘No, sir, but against the prisoner’s father and mother!’ replied Ewbank. ‘According to Mr Coward, Mr Heaviside has cherished a personal prejudice against Mr and Mrs Radford for some three-and-twenty years! Indeed, it’s more than a prejudice — it’s a desire for revenge. He’s been heard to say — —’
‘Not of late, you know,’ interrupted Coward. ‘Years ago, it was.’
‘Well, that makes little difference,’ said Ewbank. ‘He’s been heard to say that he’d bide his time but he’d have his revenge on them both! And — here’s his chance, if he could persuade the rest of us.’
‘But why does he wish to be revenged on Mr and Mrs Radford?’ I asked. ‘What is it all about?’
Ewbank jerked a thumb at Coward.
‘Mr Coward here can tell you,’ he said. ‘He’s a fellow-townsman of Heaviside’s, and he’s known him all his life.’
‘It’s like this, Mr Foreman,’ said Coward as I turned to him. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t feel convinced that Heaviside’s attitude is just due to a long-cherished desire to get his knife into the Radford family. I don’t believe he thinks that this lad, young Richard, killed Maidment, nor that he’d care twopence if he did! All he wants is to strike a blow at the lad’s father and mother.’
‘But why?’ I asked.
‘For this reason,’ he answered, drawing me a little farther aside. ‘You see, as Mr Ewbank there says, Heaviside is a fellow-townsman, and, in fact, close neighbour — his shop is only a few doors from my office. I’ve known Heaviside all my life — we were boys together at school. Now, when Heaviside was a young man and had just got nicely established in his business, he fell madly in love with a young lady who had recently come to the town as second mistress at the Girls’ High School. Well, now, Heaviside was on the committee of management of the school, and no sooner had the young lady come than he fell madly in love with her, and wasn’t at all slow to let her know of it! He wasn’t the surly, black-tempered man that he is now, but he was even then a very masterful, domineering sort of fellow, and he was bent on getting his own way in everything — —’
‘He’s not altered much in that respect!’ I remarked.
‘Got worse, sir,’ agreed Coward. ‘Well, I don’t know how much headway he made with the young lady, but anyway I do remember that when she’d been in Hebsworth some few months and Heaviside was keener on her than ever, the old gentleman who’d been clerk to the committee of the Girls’ High School died, and Mr Radford, of Ullathwaite, was appointed in his place. Now Mr Radford was a very good-looking young fellow, well-to-do, and a rising man, and, of course, a professional man and well educated, whereas Heaviside was uneducated and a tradesman. And Radford fell in love with the young lady, and no doubt he appealed to her a good deal more than Heaviside did, and to make a long story short, Radford clean cut Heaviside out! As a matter of fact, there was a very short courtship and engagement, and Radford and the young lady were married.’
‘And the young lady you refer to is the present Mrs Radford?’ I inquired. ‘Mother of the prisoner?’
‘Exactly, sir — Mrs Radford, at present Mayoress of Ullathwaite,’ replied Coward. ‘Well, now, here’s the point. Heaviside, of course, was not only a deeply disappointed man, but a furious one. He considered he’d been badly treated by the young lady — he said she’d encouraged him until Radford came on the scene. And he vowed he’d have his revenge on the two of them, however long he had to wait for it. And you know, Mr Foreman, he’s never married!’
‘Never married, eh?’ I exclaimed. ‘Ah!’
‘He’s never married,’ repeated Coward. ‘He’s just gone on, making money, sour, dour, determined, brooding over things, but in my opinion always looking out for a chance to get even with those two. He’s a revengeful man by nature. And now that he has got a chance — —’
‘He can do nothing,’ I said, interrupting him. ‘If he refuses to fall in with the rest of us, we shall simply report to his lordship that we’re unable to agree, and there’ll have to be a new trial.’
‘Aye!’ said Coward. ‘But in my opinion, that’s just what he’s after! He thinks, I’m sure, that if there’s a new trial this lad may be found guilty. And in any case he’ll have given the father and mother the pain and anxiety of further suspense.’
‘Is there nothing that could be done, Mr Foreman?’ asked Ewbank. ‘Couldn’t this be reported to the Judge?’
‘That would bring the thing to an end at once,’ I said. ‘Of course, Heaviside should have been challenged when the jury was being sworn. I wonder Mr Radford senior didn’t think of it.’
‘I suppose he didn’t want to rake up old troubles,’ replied Ewbank, ‘or perhaps it never occurred to him that Heaviside was still revengeful. Anyway, there it is! And what’s to be done?’
At that moment the welcome tea, accompanied by a generous supply of sandwiches, arrived, and, remarking to my two consultants that I’d think the matter over while we refreshed ourselves, I summoned the others to the side table on which the trays had been set out and proceeded to fortify them for further trials of their patience.
For I was determined to get at a verdict, and at the verdict of which eleven of us had already approved, if I could by any means do it. And while I sipped my tea and nibbled at a sandwich, I thought out my next method of procedure. As soon as my fellow-members had refreshed themselves I assembled them once more round the table, and, commanding attention, assumed a judicial tone.
‘Now, gentlemen,’ I said, ‘as foreman of this jury I conceive it my duty to arrive at a verdict in this case. We know now how we stand. There are eleven of us for an acquittal. Unfortunately, there is one of us who is equally resolved on a conviction. That one is Mr Heaviside. Mr Heaviside is quite within his rights. But I think Mr Heaviside has failed to appreciate the fact that the weight of evidence is in the prisoner’s favour. So, for Mr Heaviside’s benefit, and with a view to affording him the opportunity of changing his mind — —’
‘Which I shan’t do!’ growled Mr Heaviside. ‘Not on any account!’
‘ — I propose to review the whole case,’ I continued, ‘and I invite Mr Heaviside’s strict attention to what I shall say — —’
‘Say what you like!’ interrupted Mr Heaviside. ‘Here I am, and here I stick! I reckon I can last you all out, if it comes to that.’
‘I must remind you of your duty, Mr Heaviside,’ I said. ‘You are bound to listen to the opinions of your fellow-jurymen — —’
‘Heard ’em already!’ he retorted. ‘And reckon naught of ’em! But say your say, if you want to! All goes in at one ear and out at the other!’
I paid no further attention to his surly incivility, but proceeded to do exactly what I had said I would do. For two hours — during which the other members of the jury gave me their polite hearing, without sign of boredom or weariness — I treated Mr Heaviside to an elaborate recapitulation and analysis of the evidence, keeping my eyes fixed on him, and addressing myself entirely to him. And in spite of his sour and forbidding demeanour I saw that he listened. As soon as I had finished I asked for another vote. And once more Mr Heaviside was the sole dissentient to a verdict of acquittal.
It was now well past nine o’clock and time to take the step I had contemplated since hearing what Coward had to say. I rose from my chair, looking at Mr Heaviside, who at the moment was refreshing himself from his big flask.
‘Mr Heaviside,’ I said, ‘may I have a word or two with you in private?’
He stared sullenly at me, but he left the table and joined me on the hearthrug. The room was a very-big one — big enough to separate us from the other ten.
‘What do you want?’ he demanded surlily. ‘I’ve heard all you’ve got to say. And I’ve my right to my own opinion, same as you have.’
‘Mr Heaviside,’ I replied, ‘I want to ask you to be a reasonable man. The weight of opinion is against you. Why not give in to it?’
‘No!’ he retorted. ‘I’ve said so!’
‘You persist in your attitude?’ I asked.
‘I stand by my rights!’ he answered.
‘Very well, Mr Heaviside,’ I said. ‘Then I may as well tell you what I am going to do. We are going to return to Court. I shall inform his lordship that I have made a most painful discovery, namely, that one of the jury, Mr John Heaviside, of Hebsworth, so far from being unbiased and unprejudiced, is actuated by a long-cherished feeling of malice and revenge against the prisoner’s parents — —’
