White Lush: Are you standing on your head or your heels at the present moment?
Witness did not reply.
Magistrate: Do you mean to tell the court seriously that you are not aware whether, at the time referred to, you were standing on your head or your heels?
Witness: I wouldn’t swear to it, my lordship, one way or another.
Mr. White Lush: What did you do when the music stopped?
Witness: I flopped.
Mr. White Lush: Did you flop on your head or your heels?
Witness: I couldn’t take it upon myself to say, sir.
Mr. White Lush: And this is all you know of the murder?
Witness: If you was to keep me ’ere for a month, sir, you couldn’t get nothink else out of me.
Mr. White Lush: I have done with you.
Mr. Goldberry: I shall not detain you long, Mrs. Preedy. Look attentively at the prisoner. Do you know him?
Witness: No, sir.
Mr. Goldberry: Have you ever seen him in Great Porter Square?
Witness: Neither there or nowheres else. This is the first time I ever set eyes on ’im.
Mr. Goldberry: You swear that, positively.
Witness: If it were the last word I ever spoke, it’s the truth.
Mr. Goldberry: That will do.
Mrs. Preedy left the witness box in a state of great agitation, amid the tittering of the spectators.
Mr. Goldberry, addressing the Bench, said that he saw in the Court three of the constables who had been instrumental in arresting the prisoner, one being the officer who had first observed the prisoner in Great Porter Square. It was well known that the prisoner had declined to put a single question to one of the witnesses called on behalf of the Treasury. He asked to be allowed to exercise the privilege of cross-examining these constables, and he promised to occupy the court but a very short time.
No objection being raised, Police-constable Richards entered the witness box.
Mr. Goldberry: Before you helped to arrest the prisoner in Great Porter Square, had you ever seen him before?
Witness: It’s hard to say.
Mr. Goldberry: It is not hard to say. You would find no difficulty in replying to such a question if it were to tell against the prisoner instead of in his favour? I must have an answer. Had you ever seen him before that night?
Witness: I can’t call to mind that I have.
Mr. Goldberry: Do you know anything of him, in his favour or against him, at this present moment?
Witness: I do not.
Mr. Goldberry: Call Constable Fleming. (Constable Fleming stepped into the box.) Before the night of the prisoner’s arrest had you ever seen him?
Witness: I can only speak to the best of my knowledge —
Mr. Goldberry: You are not expected to speak from any other knowledge. You are aware, if that man is put on his trial, that it will be for his life. I insist upon fair play for him. Had you ever seen him before that night?
Witness: Not as far as I can remember.
Mr. Goldberry: You have taken a lesson from Mrs. Preedy. Do you know anything against him now?
Witness: No.
Mr. Goldberry: Call Constable Dick. (Constable Dick stepped into the box). You have heard the questions I put to the last two witnesses. They are what I shall substantially put to you. Before the night of the prisoner’s arrest had you ever seen him?
Witness: No.
Mr. Goldberry: Do you know anything of him at the present moment?
Witness: No.
Mr. Goldberry then addressed the bench. The inquiry had already been adjourned four times, and not a tittle of evidence had been brought forward to connect the prisoner with the dreadful crime. He was utterly unknown to the police, who had instigated the charge against him, and who, being unable to identify him, were deprived the pleasure of testifying that he belonged to the dangerous classes of society. It was partly because of this singular aspect of the case that he, Mr. Goldberry, had voluntarily come forward to defend a man who, upon the face of the evidence, was innocent of the charge so wildly brought against him. It appeared to him that liberty of the person was in danger. It was monstrous that such a power should be exercised by the police. To be poor, as the accused evidently was, was no crime; to be forlorn and wretched, as the accused appeared to be, was no crime; but the police evidently regarded these misfortunes as proofs of guilt. He applied for the prisoner’s discharge.
Mr. White Lush said it was scarcely necessary to say a word in defence of the police, who, in the exercise of their arduous duties, generally acted with fair discretion. To discharge the prisoner at this stage of the proceedings would not unlikely defeat the ends of justice. He understood that the police were on the track of some important evidence regarding the prisoner in connection with the crime, and he asked for an adjournment for a week.
The prisoner, who, during the entire proceedings, had not uttered a word, was remanded, and the case was adjourned until this day week.
CHAPTER V
CONTAINS FURTHER EXTRACTS FROM THE “EVENING MOON” RELATING TO THE GREAT PORTER SQUARE MYSTERY
YESTERDAY the inquiry into the Great Porter Square mystery was resumed at the Martin Street Police Court, before Mr. Reardon. The court was again crowded, and the prisoner, Antony Cowlrick, was brought in handcuffed. His appearance was, if possible, more forlorn-looking and wretched than on the previous occasions, and his face bore the marks of a scuffle. Mr. White Lush again appeared for the Treasury, and Mr. Goldberry for the prisoner. As a proof of the public feeling respecting the conduct of the police in this case we have to record that during his progress down Martin Street towards the Magistrate’s Court, Mr. Goldberry, who has so generously come forward on behalf of the prisoner, was loudly cheered.
Mr. White Lush rose, and stated that he was not prepared to offer any further evidence, in consequence of the inquiries of the police not being concluded. He applied for another adjournment of a week.
A buzz of astonishment and indignation ran through the court, which was quickly suppressed.
Mr. Reardon: I was not prepared for this application. It is my duty to do everything in my power to assist the course of justice, but I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that the prisoner has now been brought before me six times, and that on the occasion of every adjournment the police have promised to produce evidence affecting the prisoner which up to the present moment is not forthcoming. If it is my duty to further the ends of justice, it is equally the duty of the police to see that it does not lag. A suspected person – suspected with cause and reason – should not be allowed the opportunity of escape; but some protection must be given to a man who is presumably innocent. Since last week I have carefully gone over and considered the evidence presented in this court with respect to this awful and mysterious murder; and I am hardly inclined to allow the accused to remain any longer in prison on this charge. What has Mr. Goldberry to say?
Mr. Goldberry: I am glad – as I am sure the public will be – to hear the expression of your worship’s sentiments in the matter. It is not my wish to excite false sympathy for the prisoner, but I would draw your worship’s attention, and the attention of the police, to the reasonable presumption that while they are wildly hunting for evidence against an innocent man, the criminal is being allowed every opportunity to escape the hands of justice. It would almost seem – far be it from me to assert that it is so, for I am sure it would be untrue – but it would almost seem as if they were playing into the hands of the real criminal. The only excuse that can be found for the police is, that a murder having been committed, somebody had to be arrested and charged with its committal, and, with this end in view, Cowlrick was indiscriminately taken up and so charged. Zeal is a fine quality, but, when misapplied, frequently leads to grave consequences. In my defence of the prisoner