William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother

there’d bin an accident, or summink like that, an’ the prisoner were dead … sir.” He took a breath and plunged on. “ ’E looked terrible white and shocked, sir, poor gennelman. So I sent Bailey for ’elp. I think ’e got a glass o’ water, but ’is lordship were too upset ter take it.”
    “Did you go to the cell to look at the prisoner?” the coroner demanded.
    “Yes sir, ’course I did. ’E were lyin’ in a pool o’ blood like a lake, sir, an’ ’is eyes were wide open an’ starin’.” He tugged at his collar again. “ ’E were dead. Weren’t nuffink more ter be done for ’im. I pulled the door to, didn’t lock it, weren’t no point. Alcott went ter report wot ’ad ’appened, an’ I tried ter do what I could fer ’is lordship till ’elp come.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Jimson.” The coroner looked for Goode.
    “Where is Mr. Goode?” he asked with a frown. “I understood he was to represent the family of the dead man. Is that not so?”
    Rathbone rose to his feet. “Yes sir, he is. I don’t know what may have kept him. I ask the court’s indulgence. I am sure he will not be long.” He had better not be, he thought grimly, or we shall lose this by default!
    “This is not a court of advocacy, Mr. Rathbone,” the coroner said irritably. “If Mr. Goode does not favor us with hispresence, we shall proceed without him. Have you any questions you wish to ask this witness?”
    Rathbone drew in his breath to make as long-winded a reply as he could, and was saved the necessity by the doors swinging open wide on their hinges. Ebenezer Goode swept in, coattails flying, arms full of papers, and strode up to the front. He bestowed a dazzling smile upon the coroner, apologized profusely and took his seat, managing to disturb everyone within a ten-foot radius.
    “Are you ready, Mr. Goode?” the coroner asked with heavy sarcasm. “May we proceed?”
    “Of course!” Goode said, still with the same smile. “Very civil of you to have waited for me.”
    “We did not wait for you!” the coroner snapped. “Do you have questions for this witness, sir?”
    “Yes indeed, thank you.” Goode rose to his feet, upset his papers and picked them up, then proceeded to ask a lot of questions which merely reaffirmed what Jimson had already said. No one learned anything new, but it wasted considerable time, which was Goode’s purpose. And Rathbone’s. The coroner kept his temper with difficulty.
    Bailey, the second gaoler, was called next, and the coroner elicited from him confirmation of everything Jimson had said, but briefly. There were no contradictions to explore.
    It took all Goode’s ingenuity to think of sufficient questions to stretch it out a further half hour, and Rathbone found it hard to add anything at all. He redescribed Caleb’s words, his gestures, his tone of voice, his behavior earlier during the trial. He even asked Bailey what he thought Caleb felt and expected of the outcome, until the coroner stopped him and told him he was asking the witness to speculate beyond his ability to know.
    “But sir, Mr. Bailey is an expert witness on the mood and expectations of prisoners charged with capital crimes,” Rathbone protested. “It is his daily occupation. Surely he, of all men, may know whether a prisoner has hope of beingacquitted or not? It is of the utmost importance in learning the truth that we know whether Caleb Stone was in despair, or still nurtured some hope of life.”
    “Of course it is, Mr. Rathbone,” the coroner conceded. “But you have already drawn from Mr. Bailey, and Mr. Jimson, everything that they know. It is up to me to reach conclusions, not the witnesses, however experienced.”
    “Yes sir,” Rathbone said reluctantly. It was only one o’clock.
    The coroner looked at the clock and adjourned for luncheon.
    “Have you heard from Monk?” Goode demanded when he and Rathbone were seated in an excellent tavern nearby and enjoying a meal of roast beef and vegetables, ale, apple and blackberry pie, ripe Stilton cheese, and biscuits. “Has he learned anything?”
    “No, I haven’t,” Rathbone said grimly. “I know he went to Chilverley, but I haven’t heard a thing after that.”
    Goode helped himself to a large portion of cheese.
    “And what about the nurse, what’s her name? Latterly?” he asked. “Did she learn anything of use? I see her in court. Shouldn’t she be in the East End? We could have put off calling her today. She might have