Arthur & George

identified which could be classified as mammalian blood. He had counted the hairs picked from the sleeve and left breast of the jacket: there were twenty-nine of them in total, all short and red-coloured. He had compared them with the hairs on a piece of skin cut from the dead Colliery pony. These were also short and red-coloured. He had examined them under the microscope and pronounced them to be ‘similar in length, colour and structure’.
    Mr Vachell’s technique with Dr Butter was to grant both his competence and his knowledge full respect, and then attempt to turn them to the defence’s advantage. He drew attention to the whitish stains on the jacket which the police had concluded were the saliva and foam from the wounded animal. Was there any confirmation of this from Dr Butter’s scientific analysis?
    ‘No.’
    ‘What, in your view, did the stains consist of?’
    ‘Starch.’
    ‘And how might such residues come to be on clothing, in your experience?’
    ‘Most probably, I would say, they were residues of bread and milk from breakfast.’
    At which point George heard a noise whose existence he had almost forgotten: laughter. There was laughter in court at the idea of bread and milk. It seemed to him the sound of sanity. He looked across at the jury as the public hilarity continued. One or two of them were smiling, but most had retained sober countenances. George judged all this a heartening sign.
    Mr Vachell now moved on to the bloodstains on the sleeve of the defendant’s jacket.
    ‘You say these stains are of mammalian blood?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘There is no possible doubt about that, Dr Butter?’
    ‘None at all.’
    ‘I see. Now, Dr Butter, a horse is a mammal?’
    ‘Indeed.’
    ‘So is a pig, a sheep, a dog, a cow?’
    ‘Certainly.’
    ‘Indeed, everything in the animal kingdom that is not a bird, a fish or a reptile may be classified as a mammal?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You and I are mammals, and so are members of the jury?’
    ‘Certainly.’
    ‘So, Dr Butter, when you say that the blood is mammalian, you are merely saying that it could belong to any of the above-mentioned species?’
    ‘That is true.’
    ‘You do not for a moment claim that you are showing, or would be capable of showing, that the small spots of blood on the defendant’s jacket came from a horse or pony?’
    ‘It would not be possible to make such a claim, no.’
    ‘And is it possible to tell from examination the age of bloodstains? Could you say, for instance, that this stain was produced today, this one yesterday, this one a week ago, this one several months ago?’
    ‘Well, if it is still wet –’
    ‘Were any of the bloodstains on George Edalji’s jacket wet when you examined them?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘They were dry?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘So on your own evidence, they could have been there for days, weeks, even months?’
    ‘That is the case.’
    ‘And is it possible to tell from a bloodstain whether it has been produced by blood from a living animal or a dead one?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Or indeed from a joint of meat?’
    ‘That neither.’
    ‘So, Dr Butter, you cannot, by examining bloodstains, distinguish between those caused by a man mutilating a horse and those which might have landed on his clothes several months previously when, say, he was carving the Sunday roast – or indeed, consuming it?’
    ‘I would have to agree.’
    ‘And can you remind the court how many bloodstains you found on the cuff of Mr Edalji’s jacket?’
    ‘Two.’
    ‘And I believe you said that each was the size of a three-penny bit?’
    ‘I did.’
    ‘Dr Butter, if you were to rip a horse so violently that it was bleeding to death and had to be shot, do you imagine that you could do so while leaving scarcely more blood on your clothes than might be found if you were a careless eater?’
    ‘I would not wish to speculate –’
    ‘And I certainly shall not press you to do so, Dr Butter. I certainly shall not press you.’
    Buoyant from this exchange, Mr Vachell opened the case for the defence with a short statement, then called George Ernest Thompson Edalji.
    ‘He stepped briskly round from the dock and faced the crowded court with perfect composure.’ This was what George read the next day in the Birmingham
Daily Post
, and it was a sentence which would always make him feel proud. No matter what lies had been told, no matter the whispering campaign, the slurs on his ancestry, the deliberate distortions of the police and of other