The Nine of Hearts

The Attorney-general. "Did the prisoner ever speak of it?"

Witness. "I never heard him."

The Attorney-general. "Did the prisoner's father never come to the house?"

Witness. "Never."

The Attorney-general. "Do you know whether he is alive at the present time?"

Witness. "I heard that he was dead. My mistress said so."

The Attorney-general. "Did the prisoner go into mourning?"

Witness. "He wore crape upon his hat for several weeks."

The Attorney-general. "Now, concentrate your attention upon the day and the night of the 25th of March. I wish you to narrate, concisely, all that passed, within your own knowledge, concerning the prisoner and his wife from the morning of the 25th of March until the morning of the 26th."

Witness. "At ten o'clock in the morning of the 25th my mistress's bell rang, and I went to her room. My instructions were, never to enter her room in the morning until she rang for me. There were two bell-ropes, one on each side of the bed, so that on whichever side she was lying one of them was within reach of her hand."

The Attorney-general. "Stop a moment. Did the prisoner and his wife occupy one room?"

Witness. "No."

The Attorney-general. "For how long had this been the case?"

Witness. "For a good many months. Ever since things began to get worse between them."

The Attorney-general. "Proceed. You heard your mistress's bell ring, and you entered her room at ten o'clock."

Witness. "She said that she had passed a very bad night, that she had had dreadful dreams, and that she was afraid something terrible was going to happen to her. She asked me if her husband was up, and I told her that he had just entered the breakfast-room, that I had met him on the stairs, and that he inquired whether she were awake, as he wished to speak to her before he went out. My mistress said that she also wished to speak to him, and she asked me if I knew where he was going. Of course I did not know, and I told her so. She often asked me questions which she must have known very well were not possible for me to answer. I washed her, and tidied up the room, and then she desired me to go and tell my master to come to her. I knocked at the door of the breakfast-room three or four times, and receiving no answer, I opened it. My master was sitting at the table, and he started up when I entered, just as if I had aroused him from a dream. His face was very pale, and he held a letter in his hand. I noticed that he had not touched the breakfast. I gave him my mistress's message. He nodded, and went to her room at once. The moment he entered my poor mistress began to talk, but he stopped her and ordered me out. 'Keep in the next room,' my mistress said to me-'I may want you.' I went into the next room, and remained there quite half an hour, until my mistress's bell rang again. My master rushed past me as I opened the door, and I saw that my mistress was dreadfully agitated. She was sitting up in bed, and-"

The Attorney-general. "Stop! While you were in the adjoining room did you hear anything?"

Witness. "Not distinctly."

The Attorney-general. "Do you mean by that that you could not distinguish the words that were spoken by your master and mistress?"

Witness. "I could not distinguish the words. I could only hear their voices when they spoke loudly."

The Attorney-general. "Did they speak loudly on this occasion?"

Witness. "Very loudly."

The Attorney-general. "In merriment?"

Witness. "Quite the contrary. They were quarrelling."

The Attorney-general. "That is your understanding of their voices?"

Witness. "I could not be mistaken. Nearly the whole of the time their voices were raised to a high pitch."

The Attorney-general. "Which of the two voices made the stronger impression upon you?"

Witness. "My master's. I am certain he was threatening her, as he had done many times during the last few months."

The Attorney-general. "That is an improper remark for you to make. Confine yourself strictly to the matter in hand, and to the time you are giving evidence upon. When you entered your mistress's room she was sitting up in bed, dreadfully agitated, and your master rushed past you?"

Witness. "Yes, and she called out after him, 'Never, while I am alive! You wish I were dead, don't you, so that you may be free to marry again? But I sha'n't die yet, unless you kill me!"

The Attorney-general. "You are positive she made use of these words?"

Witness. "Quite positive."

The Attorney-general. "Did the prisoner make any reply?"

Witness. "None; and his silence appeared to infuriate my mistress. She cried out after him, 'You are a villain! you are a villain!'"

The Attorney-general. "Did you see the prisoner again during the morning?"

Witness. "No. In a few minutes I heard the street door open and close, and my mistress told me to run and see whether it was her husband going out. I went to the front-room window, and saw him enter the carriage and drive away. I returned to my mistress and informed her of it. She was in a furious state, and if she had had the strength she would have dressed herself and followed him; but she was too weak, unassisted, to get out of bed."

The Attorney-general. "Upon that point you are also positive?"

Witness. "Quite positive."

The Attorney-general. "Did your mistress make you acquainted with the cause of the quarrel between her and the prisoner?"

Witness. "She told me a good deal. She said that when she married him it was the worst day's work she had ever done, and that he had deceived her from first to last. All he wanted was for her to die but although he had treated her so vilely, she had him in her power."

The Attorney-general. "What did she mean by that? Did she explain?"

Witness. "Not clearly. She spoke vaguely about papers and acceptances for money which she had, and which he wanted to get hold of. 'He should have them, every one,' she said, 'and do whatever he liked, if he would be true to me. But he is false, he is false, and I will be revenged upon him!'"

The Attorney-general. "Did you acquire this knowledge all at one time?"

Witness. "No. My mistress spoke at odd times during the day, when I went in and out of her room."

The Attorney-general. "Nothing else said?"

Witness. "Nothing that I can remember."

The Attorney-general. "Did the prisoner return to the house during the day?"

Witness. "No."

The Attorney-general. "Did you leave the house during the day?"

Witness. "No."

The Attorney-general. "Or night?"

Witness. "No."

The Attorney-general. "You remained in attendance upon your mistress?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "Did she make any inquiries about her husband?"

Witness. "Oh yes. In the afternoon and evening she asked me a dozen times at least whether he had come home."

The Attorney-general. "At what time on the night of this day did you cease attendance upon your mistress?"

Witness. "At nine o'clock. She told me I need not come into the room again unless she rang."

The Attorney-general. "What then did you do?"

Witness. "I went to my own room to do some sewing."

The Attorney-general. "When you left your mistress's room was there a table by her side?"

Witness. "Yes; it was always there."

The Attorney-general. "There were certain things upon it?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "What things?"

Witness. "A decanter of water, a tumbler, and a bottle of lozenges."

The Attorney-general. "Was there a label on this bottle?"

Witness. "Yes; it was labelled 'poison.'"

The Attorney-general. "Were those the sleeping-lozenges your mistress was in the habit of taking?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "What was their color?"

Witness. "White."

The Attorney-general. "How many of the lozenges were in the bottle?"

Witness. "I am not sure. Ten or a dozen, I should say."

The Attorney-general. "Being labelled poison, it could not be mistaken that they were dangerous to life?"

Witness. "There could be no mistake. My mistress had told me that if a person took three or four of them at once he would go to sleep and never wake again."

The Attorney-general. "Was it considered safe to leave such dangerous narcotics within her reach?"

Witness. "She was a very prudent woman. She was fond of life; she dreaded the idea of death."

The Attorney-general. "Were there any other articles on the table?"

Witness. "Pen, ink, and paper, and a book."

The Attorney-general. "At what time did you go to bed?"

Witness. "I can't be quite exact as to the time, but it was about twelve o'clock."

The Attorney-general. "Where was your bedroom situated?"

Witness. "On the second floor."

The Attorney-general. "And your mistress's?"

Witness. "On the first floor."

The Attorney-general. "By going out of your bedroom door into the passage and leaning over the balustrade, could you see down to the ground-floor?"

Witness. "Yes, pretty clearly. It was a straight view."

The Attorney-general. "You went to bed, you say, at about twelve o'clock. Before you retired had your master returned home?"

Witness. "Yes. I was undressing when I heard the street door open and close. Then I heard a carriage drive away. I stepped out of my room softly and looked over the balustrade to make sure that it was my master. At the moment I looked down I saw him turning off the gas in the hall."

The Attorney-general. "And you saw nothing more?"

Witness. "No."

The Attorney-general. "And heard nothing more?"

Witness. "Yes, I heard something. I remained in the passage on the second floor, bending over the balustrade, and it seemed to me to be a very long time before my master made any movement. I should say five or six minutes passed before I heard him, very, very softly, ascend the stairs to the first floor. Perhaps I was fanciful, through being alone so long in my own room; but the silence in the house, and then the sound of my master coming up the stairs much more quietly than was usual with him, made me nervous, I don't know why. I fancied all sorts of things."

The Attorney-general. "Never mind your fancies. Did you hear any other footsteps besides those of your master?"

Witness. "I am not sure. I can't say. It never entered my mind that anybody could be with him, and yet I could not help fancying things. To speak the truth, I was so upset that I went into my own room and locked the door. I listened with my ear at the bedroom door, and I heard the handle of my mistress's room being turned."

The Attorney-general. "And then?"

Witness. "I was already partially undressed, and I went to bed."

The Attorney-general. "Did you sleep soundly?"

Witness. "No. I woke up suddenly with the idea that the street door had been opened and closed again. I lay in bed, frightened, but hearing nothing more, presently fell asleep again."

The Attorney-general. "There were no cries, no voices loudly raised?"

Witness. "I heard none."

The Attorney-general. "Did you sleep soundly after that?"

Witness. "No. I was dozing off and waking up the whole of the night-a hundred times, it seemed to me. How I have reproached myself since that when I saw my master put out the gas in the hall I did not have the courage to go down to him!"

The Attorney-general. "At what time in the morning did you usually rise?"

Witness. "At half-past seven, unless my mistress required me earlier."

The Attorney-general. "Was that the hour at which you rose on the morning of the 26th of March?"

Witness. "No; I rose much earlier-at six or a quarter past six I can't say exactly to a minute, because I did not look at my watch."

The Attorney-general. "Then, after dressing, did you go down-stairs?"

Witness. "Yes, with a candle in my hand It was dark."

The Attorney-general. "Any sound in the house?"

Witness. "None."

The Attorney-general. "Did you listen at your mistress's bedroom door?"

Witness. "I stood there for a moment, but I heard nothing."

The Attorney-general. "After that, what did you do?"

Witness. "I went down to the hall."

The Attorney-general. "To the street door?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "On which side of the hall was the coat-rack?"

Witness. "On the left from the house, on the right from the street."

The Attorney-general. "Did you look at it?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "What did you observe?"

Witness. "That my master's ulster was hanging up in its usual place."

The Attorney-general. "You are positive that it was in its usual place?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "Would you recognize the ulster again?"

Witness. "Most certainly it is a coat of a very peculiar pattern."

The Attorney-general. "Is this it?" (Ulster produced.)

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "Was the prisoner's hat hanging in its usual place?"

Witness. "No, it was not there."

The Attorney-general. "Did you look at the street door?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "Did you observe anything?"

Witness. "Yes, something surprising."

The Attorney-general. "What?"

Witness. "That the chain was not up, and that it was not locked, as was always done by my master himself when he returned home late. On other occasions it was done by a servant. Then, I thought, it could have been no fancy of mine that I heard the street door open and shut in the middle of the night."

The Attorney-general. "Proceed with an account of your movements after the discovery."

Witness. "I was alarmed, and I considered for a little while what I ought to do. Then it suddenly occurred to me that the door of the bedroom my master occupied was not quite closed when I had passed it on my way down-stairs. I went up quietly to convince myself, and I saw it was not shut. I touched it with my hand very gently and timidly, and it swung open. Thinking it my duty to acquaint my master with the circumstance of the street door chain not being up, I ventured to step into the bedroom and to call, 'Sir!' I held the candle above my head, and to my astonishment saw that there was no one in the room, and that the bed had not been occupied during the night. I went boldly into the room and convinced myself. No one was there, no one had been there. The bed was just as it had been made on the previous day. Now really alarmed, I hurried to my mistress's bedroom, and knocked at her door. There was no answer. I knocked again and again, and still there was no answer. I opened the door and entered. My mistress was lying quite still in bed. I stepped quietly to her side and bent over. My heart almost stopped beating as I looked at her face, there was something so awful in it. 'Madam! madam!' I cried, softly, and I ventured to push her by the shoulder. She made no movement; she did not speak. I cried to her again, and pushed her again, and then a suspicion of the horrible truth flashed upon me. I raised her in my arms, and she fell back upon the bed. I scarcely know what happened after that. I began to scream, and I think I became hysterical. The next thing I remember was the servants rushing into the room and me pointing to the dead body of my mistress."

The Attorney-general. "Do you remember saying anything to the effect that your master had murdered her?"

Witness. "I should not like to swear to it; but it may have been in my mind because of the cruel life they had led together, and because of what had passed between them on the previous morning."

The Attorney-general. "After a time you became calmer and more collected?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "Had one of the servants gone for a policeman?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "Shortly afterwards a detective officer, Lumley Rich, entered the room?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "What was his first question when he had convinced himself that your mistress was dead?"

Witness. "He asked if anything in the room had been touched or disturbed, and I said, 'No, nothing had been touched or disturbed.'"

The Attorney-general. "In consequence of the officer's question upon this point, was your attention directed to the table by the bedside?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "Was everything upon the table as you had left it at nine o'clock on the night before, when you ceased attendance upon your mistress?"

Witness. "The pen, ink, and paper were there. The decanter was there, with very little water in it, and I was horror-struck to see that the bottle of sleeping-lozenges was quite empty. I made a remark to that effect to the detective. Turning to the mantle-shelf, I saw upon it the tumbler which, when I left my mistress's room the night before, had been on the table by her side."

The Attorney-general. "You say that during the day of the 25th of March your mistress spoke vaguely about papers and acceptances for money which she held, and of which the prisoner desired to obtain possession. Do you know anything further concerning those papers and acceptances?"

Witness. "Nothing."

The Attorney-general. "Do you know if any were found after your mistress's death?"

Witness. "I do not know."

The Attorney-general. "You saw your master when he entered the house at seven o'clock in the morning?"

Witness. "Yes."

The Attorney-general. "Was he wearing an overcoat on that occasion?"

Witness. "No."

The Attorney-general. "What was his appearance?"

Witness. "Very haggard; as though he had had no sleep-as though he had passed a dreadful night."

The Attorney-general. "That will do."

(In accordance with the plan of defence which the prisoner seemed to have laid down for himself, his cross-examination of this witness was very brief.)

Prisoner. "You say that when you were in the room adjoining my wife's bedroom, during my interview with her on the Morning of the 25th of March, you heard our voices raised to a high pitch, and that of the two voices mine made the stronger impression upon you?"

Witness. "Yes, I did say so."

Prisoner. "You mean, of course, by that, that I was speaking loudly and violently?"

Witness. "Yes, I do mean it."

Prisoner. "Do you adhere to that statement?"

Witness. "Yes, I adhere to it."

Prisoner. "And to your conviction that I was threatening my wife?"

Witness. "Yes."

Prisoner. "As I had threatened her many times before?"

Witness. "Yes."

Prisoner. "You have heard me threaten her many times during the last few months?"

Witness. "Yes."

Prisoner. "In as loud and violent a tone as you say I used on this occasion?"

Witness. "No, not so loudly and violently as on this occasion; but that did not make it less dreadful."

Mr. Justice Fenmore. "We do not want your opinions. Confine yourself to the statement of facts."

Prisoner. "Are you aware that my life is at stake?"

Witness. "Yes."

Prisoner. "And that the evidence you have given is almost, if not quite, fatal against me?"

Witness. "I do not know anything about that. I have said only what is true."

Prisoner. "Is it not possible that, having a prejudice against me, you may have allowed your imagination to warp your reason?"

Witness. "If by that you mean that I am inventing things against you, it is not true. I have only told what I heard."

Prisoner. "And you heard my wife, when I left the room, call after me the words you have already given in evidence, to the effect that she believed I wished her dead, but that she would not die yet, unless I killed her?"

Witness. "I heard her say so."

Prisoner. "And that she called after me that I was a villain?"

Witness. "I heard her say so."

Prisoner. "In the description you have given of your movements on the night of this fatal day, you say that, upon hearing the street door open and close, you came out of your bedroom, and leaning over the balustrade, looked down into the hall?"

Witness. "Yes, that is true."

Prisoner. "And that you saw me putting out the gas in the hall?"

Witness. "Yes."

Prisoner. "You are certain it was I?"

Witness. "Yes. You had your ulster on, and as you had to stand on tiptoe to put out the gas, your face was raised to the light, and I saw it plainly."

Prisoner. "You saw my face plainly?"

Witness. "As plainly as I see it now."

Prisoner (with a movement of impatience). "I have no further questions to ask you."

The Court then adjourned.

VI

DESCRIPTION OF THE LAST DAY'S PROCEEDINGS-EXTRACTED FROM A DAILY PAPER

"The trial of Edward Layton for the murder of his wife came to a singular and unsatisfactory termination late last night. That the public interest in the case had reached an almost unprecedented height was proved by the large number of persons who were unable to obtain admission to the court.

"On the previous evening the evidence for the prosecution had closed, and there was a painful and eager expectancy in the minds of all present as to the line of defence which the prisoner intended to adopt. This line of defence-if, indeed, it can be called a defence-was as surprising as it was brief.

"The prisoner, addressing the judge and the jury, intimated that it was not his intention to call witnesses on his behalf. Most of the witnesses for the prosecution, he said, had given their evidence fairly, and if they had committed themselves to misstatements and discrepancies, it was more because they were either misled or mistaken-in the case of one witness, Ida White, because she was strangely prejudiced against him-than that they had a desire to make the case against him even blacker than it was. It had happened before, and would doubtless happen again, that a man found himself thrust into such an unhappy position as he himself stood through no fault of his own, and that he was unable to say or do anything to prove his innocence. Sometimes it was with such a man a matter of honor, sometimes a matter of conscience. In his own case it sprung from both his honor and his conscience that his lips were sealed, and the utmost he could say for himself was that he was an innocent man, with so dark an array of evidence against him as to almost incontestably prove him to be guilty. All that he could do was to declare most solemnly that the accusation upon which he was being tried was false, and that he stood before them as unstained by crime as they were themselves. What could be said truly in his favor was that his character, and to some extent his blameless life, were a refutation of the charge. Evidence of character was generally called in mitigation of impending punishment. He did not intend to call such evidence, because, by so doing, it would be a half-admission that he stood there a guilty instead of an innocent man. He knew perfectly well how lame and impotent these weak words must sound in the ears of those who were sitting in judgment upon him; but this he could not help. It was but part of the fatal web in which he was entangled. That he and his wife had lived unhappily together was not to be disputed; but even in this most serious crisis of his life he denied the right arrogated by the legal profession to rip open a man's private affairs and expose to the vulgar gaze what he desired should be hidden from it. The last thing he would do, even if he were in ten times the peril in which he then stood, was to drag other persons into the case, and to allow them to be blackened and vilified as he had been. 'I can scarcely doubt,' said the prisoner, 'what your verdict will be. Were I in your place, I should most likely decide as you will decide; but none the less will it be a solemn fact that though you are legally right, you are morally wrong. I must be content to let the case rest as it has been presented to you, and to abide the issue, though it may cost me my life.'

"Never in a criminal court, in the case of a man arraigned upon so grave a charge, has there been heard a defence so weak and strange; but it is nevertheless a fact that the prisoner's earnest and, to all appearance, ingenuous manner produced a deep impression upon all who heard him; and when he ceased speaking there was, in the murmurs of astonishment that followed, an unmistakable note of sympathy.

"After a slight pause the Attorney-general rose to sum up the case against the prisoner, and his incisive judicial utterances soon dispelled the impression which the prisoner's earnestness had produced. He said that in the circumstances of the case his speech would be briefer than it otherwise would have been. He had a duty to perform, and he would perform it, without, he hoped, any undue severity or harshness. Unhappily the evidence was only too clear against the prisoner, and unhappily the prisoner had strengthened the case against himself. This was not a matter of sentiment it was a matter of justice, and justice must be done. With slight limitations, around which the prisoner threw a veil of silence, contenting himself to cast suspicion upon them by some kind of mysterious implication which no person could understand, and not venturing to give them a distinct and indignant denial-with slight limitations, then, the prisoner had admitted the truthfulness of the evidence brought against him. As the prisoner had not directly referred to these doubtful points in the evidence, he would himself do so, and endeavor to clear away any latent doubt-if such existed-in the minds of the jury. First, with respect to the ulster. The prisoner did not deny that he wore this ulster on the whole of the day his coachman, James Moorhouse, was driving him to various places, and it was only upon his arrival home at midnight that he endeavored to shake the coachman's evidence as to whether, when he entered the carriage, upon leaving Prevost's Restaurant, and upon his issuing from the carriage when the coachman drew up at his house, he still had this ulster on. What his motive was in endeavoring to shake the coachman's testimony upon this point it was impossible to say. He (the learned counsel) had most carefully considered the matter, and the only conclusion he could arrive at was that the prisoner was anxious to instil a doubt into the minds of the jury, that it was not he who left the restaurant at ten minutes to twelve and entered his carriage, and that it was not he who alighted from the carriage and opened his street door. But supposing, for instance, that this argument had a foundation in fact, was it not easy for the prisoner to prove what he had done with himself between ten minutes to twelve on the night of the 25th of March and seven o'clock on the morning of the 26th? Surely some person or persons must have seen him, and had he produced those persons there would have been a reasonable alibi set up, which it would be the duty of every one engaged in this case seriously to consider. Indeed, he would go so far as to say that, admitting such evidence to be brought forward and established, there could not be found a jury who would convict the prisoner of the charge brought against him. It would then have been proved that the prisoner had not seen his wife from eleven o'clock on the morning of the 25th of March until seven o'clock on the morning of the 26th, and as it was during the night of those days that the unhappy lady met her death, it would have been impossible to bring the prisoner in guilty. But, easy as this evidence must have been to produce, there is not only no attempt to produce it, but in his lamentably impotent speech the prisoner does not even refer to it. In his mind, then, and in the minds of all reasonable men, there could not be a doubt that this was the case of one who, in despair, was catching at a straw to save himself. The learned counsel touched briefly but incisively upon every point in the evidence concerning which the prisoner had maintained silence, and had made no endeavor to confute. For instance, there was the lady whom he had met in Bloomsbury Square, whom he took to Prevost's Restaurant, whom he regaled with a supper which neither he nor she touched-a distinct proof that they were otherwise momentously occupied. The evidence with respect to this lady is irrefragable. She was no shadow, no myth, no creation of the imagination; she was a veritable being of flesh and blood. All the efforts of the prosecution had failed to trace her, and the just deduction was that she was somewhere in biding, afraid to come forward lest she should be incriminated and placed side by side with the prisoner in the dock. The prisoner did not deny her existence, nor that she and he were for several hours in company with each other. Were he innocent, what possible doubt could exist that he would bring her forward to establish his innocence? Were both innocent, would not she of her own accord step forward to prove it? The prisoner, in his address, made certain allusions to honor and conscience, by which he would make it appear that he was guided by his honor and his conscience in the singular method of his defence; and it may be that there existed in him some mistaken sense of chivalry which induced him to do all in his power to screen the partner in his crime. It would have been better for him had he brought his honor and his conscience to bear in the unhappy engagement into which he entered with the unfortunate lady who afterwards became his wife; but it had been amply proved that the marriage was not, on his side at least, a marriage of affection. Distinctly he married her for her money, and distinctly he would be a great gainer by her death. Thus, then, there existed a motive, and not a novel one-for the tragedy has been played many times in the history of crime-for his getting rid of her. He (the counsel for the prosecution) did not wish to press hardly upon the prisoner, who was a man of culture and education, and must feel keenly the position in which he stood, whatever might be his outward demeanor. But it devolved upon him to impress upon the jury not to allow any false sentiment to cause them to swerve from the straight path of duty. They must decide by the evidence which had been presented to them, and it was with a feeling the reverse of satisfactory that he pointed out to them that this evidence could lead to but one result.