The Trial of Marie Montrecourt (23 page)

Marie turned to look at them and saw that the man from
The Illustrated Penny News
was sketching her. She immediately turned away from him only to see the Mintons, who were taking their seats, glaring at her. Isabelle kept her eyes lowered.

The Gilpins now entered, passing Betsy Capes, who had increased her circle of cronies to the extent that they now took up one whole bench between them. The rest of the faces in the courtroom were people Marie had never seen before. She recognised Dr Shelton, who was in deep conversation with a grey, dry-as-dust little man. Was he the pathologist? So much was resting on what he had to say.

“Mrs Minton?” The coroner was obviously aware of the increase in the ranks of the press and intended to show them an efficiently run inquest. “Mrs Minton, please.” He waved for her to come forward.

John Pickard rose to his feet. “I’m sorry. I am John Pickard, Mrs Minton’s solicitor, and under my instructions Mrs Minton will not speak at this moment.”

Marie, in the process of standing, obediently sank back onto the bench again, not a little bewildered.

The coroner drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk. “Very well, if that is your wish, sir. Then let us proceed with Dr Shelton.”

As the doctor made his way to the front, Marie whispered to Pickard: “Why not?”

“Because we need to hear what everyone else has to say first,” he whispered back. “There must be no risk of a contradiction that could prove damaging to you.”

She fell silent as the elegant Dr Shelton took his seat at the front of the court. He swore the oath to tell the truth, then began his testimony.

“I am Dr Howard Michael Wishart Shelton, physician at Leeds General Infirmary. I, along with my colleague Dr Morton, was called in by Dr Hornby on the afternoon of June 1st, to do a post-mortem on the body of Stanley Minton.” He confirmed where the post-mortem had taken place and who else was present, then he laid the details of his findings succinctly before the jury, describing the dissecting of Stanley’s organs in gruesome detail. With the instinct of a showman, he saved his most startling revelation until the end.

“When I opened the stomach and intestines,” he said, “I was astonished to find that there was an overpowering smell of chloroform.”

Aware that she was the focus of all eyes, Marie struggled to show no reaction. She glanced at John Pickard, who instantly said: “Say nothing. This is nothing against you.”

Dr Shelton waited for the reaction to die down before continuing: “The kidneys and the liver were damaged, but I don’t believe they were the cause of death.” He added that there was also a small ulcer in the intestines, but it had certainly not burst. “It would have caused the deceased minor pain and might, in time, have become a serious problem. No, the cause of death was, in my opinion, the fact that the deceased swallowed chloroform. The lining of the intestines was inflamed. I concluded that death was most likely due to the contents of the stomach. I suggested that they be sealed and the coroner be told.”

“What time do you estimate death to have occurred?” Wallington asked.

“I can only suggest between the hours of eight o’clock at night and six o’clock in the morning when Mrs Minton found him.”

“And the amount of chloroform in the stomach?”

“A few ounces, maybe. It’s difficult to say. Certainly enough to kill him.” Another murmur rippled through the hall.

Marie tried to stop her hands from shaking by folding them in her lap. With no further questions to be answered for the moment, Dr Shelton stepped down.

The pathologist was called next, the grey man sitting beside Dr Shelton. Eminent in his field, Dr Moore was an academic who appeared to have been shut away from the light of day for years. Everything about him was grey: his hair, his suit, his face. His voice was so small and high-pitched that everyone in the court had to lean forward in order to catch what he was saying.

He described himself to the jury as a specialist in forensic medicine and a senior analyst to the Home Office. The jars containing the contents of Stanley’s stomach, plus other specimens, had been sent to him for examination. His job was to do a report on them for the Home Office and to pass on his findings to the inquest. Dr Moore then launched into a complex and, to most people in the room, incomprehensible summary of his findings. It seemed to last forever.

“So what are you saying?” The coroner, whom John Pickard had told Marie was a landlord by profession, with no knowledge of the medical profession, was obviously irritated. “Are you agreeing with Dr Shelton that chloroform was present in the stomach or not?”

“The stomach fluid was fairly acidic and contained some element of chloroform, so the conclusion has to be that there was an administration of a dose of chloroform.”

“He swallowed it?” Wallington asked.

“One would assume so.”

Marie sat forward on the bench, her body tense.

“May I ask a question?” the foreman of the jury interrupted, and Marie, along with everyone else in the room, turned to look at him. Wallington nodded. “Wouldn’t this liquid be an unpleasant thing to swallow?”

“It has a hot and fiery taste. I suppose that might be lessened by mixing it with brandy. And brandy was also found in his stomach. If chloroform had been swallowed, however, I would have expected there to be signs of vomiting, but I believe there were no signs of vomiting at the scene and none in the windpipe.”

Marie closed her eyes.
Thank God.

Wallington took up the questioning again. “How much did you say the deceased swallowed?”

“I didn’t specify. Unfortunately, I didn’t receive the contents of the stomach until two weeks after the post-mortem. They stayed in the mortuary until they were sent to me and the jars in which the specimens were stored were very badly sealed, so it’s difficult for me to be certain. Dr Shelton’s assessment from the post-mortem was that he had swallowed about an ounce or two.”

“And that would be enough to kill a man?” the coroner asked.

“I haven’t been involved in such a case before, but I would assume so.”

“In this case, I would think that’s an acceptable conclusion,” said Wallington.

“May I ask another question?” It was the foreman of the jury again. The coroner waved at him impatiently to get on with it, obviously with thoughts of luncheon on his mind. “Is chloroform something that can be used by one person against another?”

Marie knew why that question was being asked, and so did everyone else in the room.

“It could be. But there’s an element of risk because there’s no understanding about the size of dose that would prove fatal, and it is unpleasant to take. It also creates a painful burning sensation in the throat. And, in my opinion, it would be virtually impossible to swallow without some of it going into the windpipe as the deceased resisted it. It would also have caused a severe irritation both there and in the throat, but there was no sign of that at all.”

She hadn’t known how high the risk of failure was. If she had, she would never have dared to take it.

“And have there been cases before where chloroform has been used for homicidal purposes?” Wallington was asking.

“I must admit, throughout my career as an analyst, I’ve never been involved in a case where chloroform was used in that way.”

There was a murmur of curiosity as this information was whispered from one person to another.

“I should point out again,” continued Moore calmly, “that the deceased’s kidneys were severely damaged and the liver enlarged. When the deceased’s skull cap was removed and the brain most carefully examined, there was some abnormality in the ventricles of the brain. Although, as I said, the specimens were very badly preserved.”

“And the significance of these things?” asked Wallington.

“With such damage to his major organs, the deceased would not have lived much longer anyway. As for the ventricles of the brain, the abnormality was what I would expect to find in the brain of someone who has inhaled chloroform more than once. That would be an explanation for the condition of the kidneys and the liver, too.”

“Meaning?” Wallington pressed him impatiently.

“I suspect there was a history of the deceased inhaling chloroform. Perhaps it was also inhaled before the fatal dose was taken, for whatever purpose.”

Marie curled over on the bench and covered her face with her hands. So now it was all out in the open, every shameful fact about Stanley’s addiction. It would be in all the newspapers tomorrow.

“But you still say that it was the amount in the stomach that was the cause of death?” Wallington asked.

“I would say so. If the deceased was a habitual user.”

Geoffrey could contain himself no longer. He leapt to his feet. “This is preposterous! My brother was a clean-living, hard-working man. Whatever happened to him, she did it.”

Marie started to rise too, but John Pickard grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her down again. All eyes were still on Stanley’s brother, so the exchange between solicitor and client went unobserved by the jury.

“If you say anything now, you will do more harm to yourself than to them,” Pickard muttered. “I warn you, don’t say anything.” After a moment’s indecision, Marie bit her lip and sank back onto the bench.

Wallington was still trying to calm the irate Geoffrey. “Mr Minton, please sit down. You’ll have your chance to speak later.”

It seemed for a moment that Geoffrey would ignore the warning and the atmosphere in the court grew tense, but he reluctantly resumed his seat, shaking his head in disgust. Edwin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Isabelle muttered that she was too distraught to stay there any longer and hurried from the court. The disturbance over, Wallington turned again to the pathologist.

“You were saying, Dr Moore?”

“There might be the possibility that it was swallowed by him accidentally, I suppose. Or suicide?” Geoffrey restrained himself with difficulty as Dr Moore continued. “But again, I would expect there to be some vomiting, some scorching of the throat.”

“And there was none?”

“No.”

“So there is no clear indication of how he consumed it.”

“Not at this stage. No.”

“Thank you, Dr Moore. I may need to call on you later.”

As Dr Moore stepped down, Wallington announced a break for luncheon and the hall was filled with voices as the pathologist’s testimony was discussed and dissected. The artist from
The Illustrated Penny News
quickly sketched a portrait of the bereaved widow leaning on her solicitor’s arm as she was led out of the courtroom, the target of all eyes.

On Pickard’s insistence, and with the help of a liberal disbursement, he and Marie had been allowed a private room into which food had been brought from the local public house. Marie didn’t even look at it and Pickard showed no inclination to eat either. She began pacing the floor agitatedly.

“I should speak now, shouldn’t I? After everything that’s been said. Stanley
did
use chloroform, though I prayed that the inquest would never need to know. I wanted to protect Stanley’s good name.”

Pickard held up his hand to stop her. “I don’t see how anything you can say will alter their decision as to how he died. Now more than ever, it’s imperative for you to remain silent. Just leave the court to draw their own conclusions. There is nothing that condemns you.”

“They will print it in the newspapers though, won’t they?” Evelyn would read about it. Would it shock him? Would he be disgusted? She was glad she’d forbidden him to contact her. He had to keep his distance or risk being drawn into a scandal.

When the inquest reconvened, the coroner turned first to Marie. “Mrs Minton, I would like to hear your account of what happened on the night of your husband’s death.”

John Pickard responded as before. “I am advising my client to remain silent for the moment.”

Speculation as to the reason for this continued refusal to speak broke out among the courtroom. The reporters scribbled, while Wallington leant towards Pickard.

“If she doesn’t speak, it may look bad for her.”

“I won’t take the responsibility of agreeing to her examination until we’ve heard all the evidence,” insisted John Pickard, now convinced that this was the correct path to take. Marie’s nerves threatened to make her an unstable witness. The less she said, the better.

“Mrs Minton?” Wallington leant towards her, peering over his spectacles, ignoring the solicitor. “Before it’s too late?”

Marie stared down at the floor, unsure what to do. The solicitor fiddled uneasily with his papers. Why didn’t she answer? There wasn’t a sound in the courtroom. Finally, Marie said, in a voice that was barely audible, “I will take my solicitor’s advice.”

“Very well. I believe Mrs Minton gave Dr Hornby an account of the events leading up to the death of Stanley Minton. I shall call on him to pass it on to us, if Mrs Minton is willing?” Marie nodded.

Seated on the chair, Dr Hornby carefully unfolded his wad of notes and Wallington groaned. “Please, keep to the point, Dr Hornby. I believe Mrs Minton confided in you the events leading up to the discovery of her husband’s body?”

“She did and I made careful notes after the post-mortem in case the information would be useful. However, to start at the beginning…” He cleared his throat, determined not to be hurried as he gave a detailed account of his various visits to the house in Garibaldi Street. “I was called on by Mrs Minton to attend her husband just some weeks before his death.”

He droned on, checking and re-checking his facts with his notebook, until finally, to Wallington’s obvious relief, he reached the evening of Stanley Minton’s death.

“Mrs Minton told me that she sat with her husband all that evening – his last evening. She gave him a little tea and that’s all he had the whole day.” He looked up. “I think Dr Morton, who is yet to give his evidence, will be able to confirm that.” Hornby returned to his notes. “She poured him a little brandy and left it by his bedside. She returned to her room and tried to get some sleep.”

“They have separate rooms?” the coroner queried.