always understood that Mr Hargreaves is an old friend of Mrs Bayford; and this visit was the first time I had ever come into personal contact with Mr Hargreaves, but I had frequently heard mention of him. I have always understood that Mr Hargreaves and Mrs Bayford knew each other from childhood right up to the time when Mrs Bayford married, two years ago, but that after that Mr Hargreaves went abroad. I believe he only returned a little while ago.
I see. You cannot tell us, I suppose, whether there had ever been any talk of a marriage between Mrs Bayford and Mr Hargreaves?
I have no information upon that point, Mr Coroner. Such matters are not any business of mine, and I am afraid that I make a strict rule of never prying into matters which do not concern me.
Most commendable, I’m sure! Can you tell the Court anything of the relations between Mr Hargreaves and the rest of the family?
There, sir, I may be of a little more use. Three days before his death Mr Maxwell Brunton referred in my presence to the forthcoming visit of Mr Hargreaves. He came into the study where I was working on his letters and asked me to cancel an appointment he had made for dinner on the Thursday night. From the way in which he worded his directions I gathered that he was not looking forward with any degree of pleasure to Mr Hargreaves’s visit. So far as the other members of the family are—
Just one moment, Mr Harrison! Can you remember the exact words used by Mr Maxwell Brunton in regard to Mr Hargreaves on this occasion you have just told us of?
Mr Brunton made no direct reference to Mr Hargreaves personally, but he said—I’m afraid I cannot remember the exact words—something like this: ‘That’ll be young Hargreaves’s first night here. Blast it!’ And then later, discussing some appointment for the Saturday he said again: ‘Hargreaves will still be here. Damn it!’ or some words like that … What I am trying to show, Mr Coroner, is that while Mr Brunton did not make any ill-natured reference to Mr Hargreaves personally, he did seem to find the forthcoming visit of Mr Hargreaves far from—how shall I put it?—far more awkward than he would have a visit of any other person. He was not a man who was given to being put out merely by the presence of an extra person in the house.
I see … Have you any further questions, gentlemen, that you would like me to put to this witness at this stage? … I beg your pardon? … Perhaps, sir, if you would get the foreman to put the question formally …
Mr Coroner, a member of the jury wishes me to ask whether the witness has any comment to offer on the evidence of the police sergeant or any addition to that evidence in regard to the other guest, Miss Lamort, and her collapse on hearing the news of deceased’s death.
I see. Mr Harrison, you heard the foreman, I think. Perhaps you would give a reply to that question.
I have nothing to add, sir, to the police sergeant’s remarks. I went, as described by the police sergeant, with him to wake Miss Lamort. As he stated, when we told her the news she seemed extremely agitated. During the very few moments she took to attire herself I kept hearing her mutter—we had not quite closed the door—‘My God! My God!’ This was said in a kind of moaning voice, very distressing to hear. When Miss Lamort came downstairs and rushed to Mrs Brunton for comfort, she seemed to collapse completely. She seemed terribly upset. She seemed not to take the news of the calamity nearly so stoically as the members of Mr Brunton’s family. I should perhaps add that throughout the whole of the following day she was confined to her room, during which time she was, so the servants inform me, unable to take any food. I went once or twice myself past her room on that day, and each time I could hear her moaning and muttering words which I could not catch, as I was, of course, merely passing her door about my business … There is no doubt that the tragedy affected her very, very deeply.
I see. Thank you, Mr Harrison. I was going to ask you to stand down just before the jury put that last question to you. Looking down my notes, however, I find there is one further question which I myself wish to put. I’m sorry to keep you so long.
Not at all! Not at all! I am here to do my duty.
Quite! Quite! The last question is this: Was it your habit, as confidential private secretary to Mr Brunton, always to knock at the study door if you thought he was inside the study?
Certainly not, sir! The study was my place of work, and anyhow, if I may say so, it is only household servants who are required to knock at such doors before entering.
And yet, Mr Harrison, during your evidence you made the following statement: you had just said that on your way to the study on Thursday night, or, rather, Friday morning, you saw a light beneath the study door, and then you added, ‘I assumed that Mr Brunton was engaged and so knocked at the door before entering.’ Will you please explain this seeming contradiction to what you have just told the Court?
You put me in a truly embarrassing position, Mr Coroner. I come up here and strive to the best of my ability to give my evidence simply, concisely and above all, truthfully—
Quite, quite! Will you please answer the question? Is the Court to take it that you assume that your employer would not like you to go in at such a time as that without knocking?
If you insist upon my answering that question, Mr Coroner, yes.
You are here to answer questions, Mr Harrison. Will you please now tell the Court the reason for supposing that Mr Brunton would like warning of your entry?
I must answer that question?
Of course. May I suggest, Mr Harrison, that you do not waste our time and your own? So far you have shown no disinclination either to answer questions or to add your own quota to your answers. May I suggest that you continue in this manner?
Very well, sir. Since you insist—since you insist, I say—upon an answer to this question of yours, I am in duty bound to give you an answer. I knocked upon Mr Brunton’s study door because I thought Mr Brunton might not be alone.
And yet, although your errand to the study was only a question of making a diary entry which you had forgotten, you did not, when you saw the light and thought that Mr Brunton might be engaged, go away again without making your presence known?
Really, Mr Coroner, I must take leave to know my own business best! I gave every satisfaction to Mr Brunton—the length of my sojourn with him is enough guarantee of that. I trust that I know my position and what, in that position, I may or may not do. I thought Mr Brunton might be engaged, but, equally, it was possible that he was only, as he very often was until very early hours, reading or writing.
Quite! Quite! Who, Mr Harrison, did you think might be engaged with Mr Brunton? His son? His wife? His daughter?
I am afraid, Mr Coroner, that such conjectures did not enter my head. I am a man who makes a practice of never concerning himself unduly with the private affairs of others, especially those of the employer to whom he owes loyalty.
You had no idea, then, Mr Harrison, of who might be with Mr Brunton? You did not, for instance, listen a moment to see … Please do not misunderstand me. I am not making a suggestion of eavesdropping. You did not, I suppose, listen for a moment to hear if there were voices, or whether you could distinguish those voices?
Most emphatically not, sir!
Thank you.
I would like to say at this juncture—
Please do not trouble, Mr Harrison. I think I can now ask you to stand down—that is, of course, unless any member of the jury has any further questions which he wishes to put to you … I beg your pardon? … Please speak up …
Mr Harrison, I’m not sure whether you heard the question of the jury. They wish to know whether, when you knocked, you expected the person who might be engaged with Mr Brunton to be a man or a woman?
Really, Mr Coroner! I am afraid I am not familiar with this