eye to see that Mr Brunton was dead. I went quietly out of the study, shutting the door behind me; ran as fast as my legs would carry me back to the stairs and up to the top floor and waked Jennings the butler. In a few words I told him what had happened and sent him out for a policeman. The disturbance had apparently wakened Mrs Brunton, for as I came downstairs after Jennings she was on the landing. I had to break the news to her, and she insisted that I should rouse—er—bring to her her son and daughter, Mr Adrian Brunton and Mrs Bayford. I called Mr Adrian Brunton. Mrs Bayford, taking matters into her own hands, called Mr Hargreaves, who was staying in the house. Sarah Jennings, wakened when I called her husband, came downstairs. Mr Adrian Brunton and Mrs Brunton wished to go at once to the study, but I managed to dissuade them from taking this step until after the police had arrived. I was seconded in this by Mr Hargreaves.
We all went downstairs to the hall. All the members of the household, that is to say with the exception of the kitchenmaid, Mrs Brunton’s maid and Miss Lamort, the third visitor. We had not been downstairs more than a moment when Jennings came back with the sergeant. After that events transpired as he told you in his evidence.
I trust, Mr Coroner, that I have been clear in my statement. I try always to make a habit of orderly and incisive thinking.
Yes, yes, quite. Now, Mr Harrison, one or two questions …
At your service, Mr Coroner.
When you were describing just now how at Mrs Brunton’s request you fetched her son and daughter, you started to use the word ‘rouse’ and then apparently changed your mind.
Exactly, Mr Coroner. I felt, as I said it, that perhaps ‘rouse’ was not the correct word. It might imply that Mrs Bayford and Mr Adrian Brunton were asleep, whereas in fact they were not.
Did you enter their rooms?
Mr Brunton’s, yes. I gave one tap at the door and entered rather unceremoniously. Mr Brunton was kneeling upon the window seat looking out of the window. He had a dressing-gown on but had only substituted this, I saw, for his dinner jacket.
What did he do when you came in? Can you tell the Court his reaction to your entry and your bad news?
Certainly. When I went in—as I have said, rather unceremoniously, I fear—Mr Brunton got up and turned round to face me. Before I could speak he said: ‘What the hell do you want?’ I should perhaps explain that Mr Brunton has always seemed—for what reason I am sure I cannot think—to dislike me.
Did he seem excited when he said this?
A difficult question, Mr Coroner. Mr Adrian Brunton is a young man of—er—mercurial temperament. He is normally excitable. It certainly did not strike me that there was anything unusual—for him—in his reception of me, though naturally I resented his incivility.
You say Mr Brunton was looking out of his window? If my recollection of the plan is correct, this would mean that he was looking out over the gardens to Rajah Square—
That is correct. Mr Adrian Brunton’s room is at the back of the house; that is, the northern side—
Please let me conclude my question before answering, Mr Harrison. I was about to ask you if you gathered from Mr Adrian Brunton’s position as you entered the room any indication of whether he was merely idly looking out into the gardens or looking out for, or at, any particular object?
I am afraid it is impossible for me to say. No sooner had I entered the room than he was off the window seat and had turned to face me.
Thank you. Please proceed. You were about to tell the Court in answer to my question what Mr Brunton’s reaction was to your bad news?
He seemed dazed. In fact, for a moment I wondered whether he had heard me. I said ‘Don’t you understand, Mr Brunton? Your father is dead—has been killed! …’
Yes, Mr Harrison? Please don’t hesitate. What then?
I suppose that in this Court I must repeat the exact words which were used. After I had told him a second time Mr Brunton caught me by the shoulder and shook me violently. He said: ‘You bloody little bastard! That’s a lie!’ I managed not to allow my very natural resentment to overcome my good sense. I managed to make Mr Brunton understand that I was in deadly earnest. He then put out his arm and brushed me aside. I followed him out into the corridor. He had opened the study door, which of course was just at his right as he came out of his own room, and was standing on the threshold, staring. I said: ‘Mr Brunton! Mr Brunton! We must leave things as they are until the Police come.’ He muttered some oath or other which I did not catch and I think was going into the study, but at that moment he heard Mrs Brunton’s voice calling him from the other end of the corridor. She was just outside Mrs Bayford’s room. He turned and ran back. I followed.
As I passed the stairhead Mrs Bayford came out of her room. I think she was following her mother. She was fully dressed, but not in the gown which she had worn at dinner. I remember she had in her hand a fountain pen, because I offered to take it from her and put it down. She had obviously already heard the news. She stared at me as though I were not there. I repeated my offer, but she turned away without a word and began speaking with her brother.
So you are not in a position, Mr Harrison, to tell us Mrs Bayford’s immediate reaction to her father’s death?
No, sir. As I was breaking the dreadful news to Mr Adrian Brunton, Mrs Brunton must have been with her daughter.
I see. Now, you say that when you did see Mrs Bayford—when she came out of her room—and you and Mr Brunton and Mrs Brunton were standing in the corridor, she seemed dazed when you spoke to her?
I did not use the word ‘dazed,’ Mr Coroner. Mrs Bayford certainly was not in a normal state, for, as a rule, she is a lady of most charming manner, and, as I have explained, she did not seem to hear my offer of assistance. But although she was not herself, I do not think it would be right for me to use the word ‘dazed.’ She seemed in a way peculiarly alert. It was she, for instance, who called Mr Hargreaves, outside whose room we all were standing at the moment. She rapped on the door, and it was immediately opened. Mr Hargreaves was in pyjamas and a dressing-gown. From his appearance I should say that he had been in bed. The terrible situation was explained to him, and it was after that that we—
One moment, Mr Harrison, one moment! Please tell the Court who it was who conveyed the news to Mr Hargreaves.
Mrs Bayford. I can remember her exact words, I think, Mr Coroner. She laid her hand on Mr Hargreaves’s arm, and she said: ‘Oh, Jack dear! A frightful thing has happened … Father—Father—’ and then she seemed to break down for a moment. Mr Hargreaves caught her hands, and he said: ‘Claire! Claire! What’s this?’ or some words like that. And then Mrs Bayford seemed to take command of herself again. She said, ‘Father’s dead. He’s been … he’s been killed.’ And it was after that that we all—
One moment, Mr Harrison! It’s very important that the Court should appreciate the relationship in which the persons staying at the house stood to each other. It is also very important that you should tell us, as much as you can, of each person’s reaction on their hearing the news. Will you please tell us, first, of Mr Hargreaves’s demeanour when Mrs Bayford had explained the tragedy to him, and secondly, what you know of the relationship between these two. I understood you to say that Mrs Bayford called Mr Hargreaves ‘Jack dear,’ and that he in return used her Christian name.
To take your first question, Mr Coroner, Mr Hargreaves, on hearing the dreadful news, seemed—and quite naturally—utterly astonished. He made some ejaculation—‘Good God!’ I think it was—but when this astonishment had passed he seemed mostly concerned with the effect of the tragedy upon Mrs Bayford.
In answer to your second question, Mr Coroner, I can only say that, not being a member of the family, and, as Mr Brunton’s secretary, naturally not being in the confidence of any of the