Authors: Muriel Spark
‘I have
no recollection,’ said Fergusson, ‘that you were upset.’
‘Don’t
you remember, I was all shaken up that morning?’
‘Yes,
Patrick, I know that. But as far as the law is concerned I have no
recollection.’
‘There’s
the question of the letter,’ Patrick said.
‘It was
foolish of you to go and forge that letter. Another couple of years on your
sentence at least.’
‘Our
expert is convinced the letter’s genuine,’ Patrick mumbled.
‘Our
expert isn’t,” said Fergusson.
Patrick
wrenched himself away. But when he had plunged out into the street again, he
felt better, and considering the chances, was confident of his release, so that
he did not give thought to the matter again that day, but thought of Alice.
Chapter XII
FROM time to time
throughout the trial, Patrick Seton sat in the dock visualizing, with fretful
eagerness, Alice as she should lie on the mountainside, crumpled up, overdosed
with insulin; the liberation of Alice’s spirit was so imminent, it was like a
sunny radiance to distract his understanding from the proceedings of the court.
When
the time came for him to speak, he was lucid and calm and clear-voiced. Alice
had never heard him speak so clearly, she was astonished.
‘His
voice has changed, hasn’t it?’ she whispered to Matthew, up in the public
gallery.
‘I don’t
know,’ Matthew said. ‘How should I know what his voice is like?’
‘I
think he must be making a special effort,’ Alice whispered. ‘He feels a strong
clear voice is called for.’
‘Don’t
talk. I want to listen,’ Matthew said, ‘to this bit.’
‘He’s
doing well, isn’t he?’ said Alice. ‘After the mess they made of the Prosecution
case this morning—’
‘Don’t
talk,’ Matthew said, leaning over the rail of the gallery. ‘I want to listen.’
‘I do
think,’ Alice said, ‘that Elsie might have come.’
Ronald
walked through the late night streets, recovering his strength. He had spent
the day in court. He had been the third witness for the Prosecution.
‘Have
you ever in your life made a mistake?’ said the Defence Counsel in his
cross-examination.
‘Yes,’
said Ronald.
‘This
couldn’t be one of them?’
‘I have
never, so far as I know, made a mistake in a case of forgery.’
‘So far
as you know. Thank you, Mr. Bridges. —Oh, oh…’
‘Oh!’
said the whole world at once, ‘what’s happened? He’s falling, fainting.’
Ronald
had put on his best dark suit for the occasion. He had arrived at the Criminal
Court at ten minutes past ten. He had never before seen Martin Bowles in his
wig and gown in court; it was an amazing sight. Martin had become instantly
wise, unimpeachable. Once, at Isobel Billows’, she having found Martin’s wig at
the back of his car and brought it into the house, Ronald had seen her try it
on and, watching herself in the rather dim gilt-framed looking-glass, recite,
‘The
quality of mercy is not strained…’
‘They
always say that,’ said Martin. ‘Women, when they try on a lawyer’s wig, always
do that.’
The case opened at half
past ten. Hugh Farmer, Counsel for the Defence, lolled back against the bench,
sometimes whispering to his pupil behind him while the indictment was read for
the second time. He was thinking of his elder daughter, at that moment taking
her most important examination in music.
‘Fraudulent
conversion… forgery… Mrs. Freda Flower.’
Martin
Bowles got up to open the case for the Prosecution. Hugh Farmer watched him respectfully
as Martin gave small reasonable waves of his hand, with upturned palm, towards
the jury.
‘Detective-Inspector
Fergusson will read you a statement made and signed by the accused …
‘Mrs.
Freda Flower will tell you…
‘I will
call an expert in the detection of forgery who will give evidence on the count
of…’
Now
Fergusson was in the witness box, not in uniform. He took his oath. He read
Patrick’s statement: ‘… I was tempted, and fell. The cheque was for premium
and defence bonds. Mrs. Flower asked me to obtain them for her. She felt they
were safer with me. I did not buy the bonds. I do not know where the money has
gone. I have read this over…’
Hugh
Farmer got up to cross-examine.
‘Mr.
Fergusson, when you saw Mr. Seton on the afternoon of 12th August, the day on
which you say he made this statement, did you notice anything peculiar about
him?’
‘Nothing
whatsoever,’ said Fergusson.
‘Are
you sure?’
‘Absolutely
certain,’ said Fergusson.
‘Nothing
about the eyes? No slight foaming at the mouth?’
The
judge said, ‘Mr. Farmer, what is the—’
‘It is
relevant, my lord. My client is a spiritualistic medium and I shall show that
he was in a trance when he signed that statement at the police station.’ He
resumed his cross-examination.
‘You
said just now you were unaware, when you obtained this statement from Mr.
Seton, that he had received a letter from Mrs. Flower asking him to use the
money for his own purposes?’
‘He
said nothing about a letter on that occasion.’
‘Then
Mr. Seton called on you the following week and told you he had made his
statement while in a dazed condition, and wished to withdraw it?’
‘I have
no recollection of that.’
‘He
told you he had in his possession a letter from Mrs. Flower in which she made
it plain that the cheque was freely given for his use in his profession?’
‘I have
no recollection of him saying that.’
‘When
you say you have no recollection you mean that in fact you do not remember
whether he said it or whether he did not? He might in fact have stated his
desire to withdraw his statement or to make a further statement, but it has
slipped your recollection.’
‘He
didn’t ask to withdraw his statement or make a further one. He said nothing
about a letter on that occasion.
‘You
have said you did not know about the existence of a letter from Mrs. Flower
until some weeks later.’
‘That
is correct…’
‘You
said…’
Alice
whispered to Matthew, ‘You can see the power he’s got over Patrick. Just look
at poor Patrick.’
Patrick
was sitting in the dock between two policemen, looking at tall square Fergusson
with his head slightly to one side and tears shining in his pale eyes.
Next
came Freda Flower. She began to swear on the Bible, glanced towards Patrick,
and ended on a faltering note.
‘You
are a widow?’ said Martin Bowles. ‘… You let rooms for a living?… Do you
know the accused?… How long have you known the accused?… Did he offer to do
a little decorating and painting in your house?… When did you become
interested in the spiritualist movement? … Did you attend séances with the
accused?’
‘Yes,’
said Freda Flower. ‘… Yes… Yes… That’s right… I started going to
spiritualist meetings with Mr. Seton, that would be about three months after he
came to my house.’
‘He was
in charge of these meetings?’
‘Oh no,
he was the medium.’
‘Can
you describe to the court in your own words what took place when Mr. Seton
acted as a medium?’
‘Well,
he went under and I must say he always gave every satisfaction as a medium, I
must say that. He—”
‘When
you say he went under, Mrs. Flower, what does that mean? He sat in a chair, did
he not?’
‘Yes,
he was bound to the chair hands and feet.’
‘And
this was in the dark.’
‘Well,
there was always a small light burning in the Sanctuary.’
‘There
was a dim light in the séance room where the meetings were held — Am I
right?…’
‘Yes,
that’s right.., bound hand and foot to a chair…’
‘Could
you describe the trance, please? You must remember that most people present in
this court have not attended a spiritualist meeting.’
‘He
closed his eyes and went under.’
‘He appeared
to lose consciousness?’ said Martin.
‘No,
because he spoke as a medium after that. The control took over, you see.’
‘He
appeared to be unaware of what was going on around him?’
‘Oh,
yes.’
‘Will
you describe his appearance?’
‘Well,
you see, he’s a medium. His eyes rolled upward and he foamed a bit at the mouth
and his legs and arms twitched as far as was possible because they were bound
to the chair.’
‘Did he
obtain messages purporting to come from an invisible world?’
‘Yes,
he got through to the other side. He—”
‘Were
any of these messages directed specifically to you?’
‘Yes,
he got through to my late husband.’ She looked at Patrick and looked away.
Patrick was accusing her. ‘His messages were often a great comfort,’ she said.
‘These
messages from your late husband through the mediumship of Seton contained
practical advice?’
‘Yes,
sometimes…. Well, not exactly practical, but—”
‘Will
you give an example?’
‘Well,
only advice to keep happy and cheerful,’ she said, on the verge of tears.
‘Anything
else?’
‘Well,
it’s difficult …’
‘On one
occasion there was something about money?’
The
Defence Counsel was allowed his objection. Martin said, ‘Were you advised as to
your friends, the company you kept?’
‘Yes,’
said Freda, ‘my late husband wanted me to be friends with Mr. Seton.’
‘Was
this according to what the accused said while in his trance?’
‘Yes.’
‘Now,’
said Martin, ‘about this cheque for two thousand pounds …’
Up in
the gallery Matthew said to Alice, ‘She’s giving very bad evidence.’
‘What
other sort of evidence could she give?’ said Alice.
‘Will
you look at this cheque for two thousand pounds made out to Patrick Seton and
say if that is your signature?’ Martin was saying.
‘Yes,’
she said, ‘it’s mine.’
‘Martin
Bowles is a clot,’ Matthew said.
‘He
hasn’t got much of a case,’ said Alice.
Martin
was referring to Freda Flower’s deposition.
‘Yes,’
she said. ‘… Yes, I told him to buy them for me.’ … ‘No, it was his
suggestion.’ … ‘I thought he had bought the bonds… Well, I thought the
bonds would be safer with him…’
‘What
do you mean by safer?’ said the judge.. ‘I thought he would keep them safer
than me,’ she said. Patrick looked up at Mice. She smiled at him. Her
pregnancy, he thought, is hidden by the railings of the balcony. I’m winning.
She won’t live.
‘I did
in a way promise him a little help with his spiritual research. I said he
should ask me for money.’
Some of
the jury were making notes.
‘And
did he ask you?’
‘No, he
never asked …’
Martin
read out the letter to the court. ‘I should add,’ he said, ‘that the letter is
undated.’
‘Will
you look at this letter,’ he said, ‘and tell the court whether you wrote it or
not?’
‘No, I
never wrote it.’
‘Is
that handwriting similar to your own.’
‘It
looks very like my writing. But I couldn’t have written it unless I was in a
trance or something.’
‘Have
you ever been in a trance?’ said the judge.
‘I don’t
think so, my lord.’
‘Don’t
you know? Have you ever foamed at the mouth and rolled up your eyes, and
twitched?’
‘No, my
lord.’
Matthew
said, as the cross-examination began, ‘Now we’re for it.’
‘Serve
her right,’ Mice said. ‘She’s just showing herself up for what she is.’
‘You
have said that Mr. Seton gave every satisfaction as a medium?’ said Patrick’s
counsel.
‘Yes,
he was always a good medium.’
‘You
had every faith in his powers?’
‘Yes.’
‘And
still have?’
‘Oh,
yes.’
‘You
had every reason to believe that he was genuine, whatever may be the opinions
of others on spiritualism in general?’
‘Oh, he
was genuine, I admit.’
‘And
you say he brought you comfort, and did repairs and decorations to your house?’
‘Oh,
yes, he—’
‘Did
you pay him for those repairs and decorations?’