The Maze

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 kind of procedure, but I cannot think that it is customary or permissible to—

Mr Harrison, I wish you would get it into your head that this is a court of inquiry. The object of the inquiry is to ascertain how Mr Maxwell Brunton met his death. Petty private feelings and even the ordinary social shibboleths are out of place. When, as a witness, you are asked a question, it is your duty to answer that question as succinctly as you can. I will repeat it in another form: When you knocked on the study door because you thought Mr Maxwell Brunton was ‘engaged,’ did any thought cross your mind as to the sex of his possible companion? Now, please, Mr Harrison, we don’t want your opinion; we want your answer.

Yes, Mr Coroner. I thought that Mr Brunton might have—might have—er—a lady with him.

What lady? Mrs Brunton? Please confine yourself solely to answering my question.

No, not Mrs Brunton. Mrs Brunton is—er—Mrs Brunton hardly ever went into the study.

Who then?

I cannot say, Mr Coroner.

Do you mean ‘can not’ or ‘will not’?

I am not in the habit, Mr Coroner, of using a word in its wrong place. If I say ‘cannot,’ I mean I am unable.

So you intend to inform the Court, first, that you did not think this possible visitor of Mr Brunton’s could be Mrs Brunton, and, second, that it might be any other person of the female sex?

. . . . . .

Come, come, Mr Harrison! Please give us your answer!

As you insist, Mr Coroner, yes.

Do you mean to tell the Court that you thought it possible that a woman other than one of those in the house could be with Mr Brunton?

Good heavens, no! What are you suggesting?

Please spare us your indignation, Mr Harrison. If you did not think, then, that this possible visitor could be a woman from outside, and yet you thought that it was a woman, will you please tell the Court which female member of the household you thought most likely—

Really, Mr Coroner, I cannot—

Please, Mr Harrison! You must remember, sir, if you are at all uncomfortable, that, really, you have brought this upon yourself. Please give an answer to my question. I gather from the general trend of your evidence that the possible woman was not Mrs Brunton nor Mrs Bayford. That leaves us, I think, with Miss Lamort and the servants, Mrs Jennings, Jeannette Bokay, and Violet Burrage—

Really, Mr Coroner! I must emphatically state at this point that any conjectures I may have had on the subject did not go so far as the identity of the possible person.

You are certain of that, Mr Harrison?

Positive, sir! Positive!

Very well, Mr Harrison. We will now cease, I hope, to embarrass you. You were Mr Brunton’s confidential secretary. You must therefore have had manifold opportunities for observing Mr Brunton’s temperament, character, and ways. That is so?

Obviously, sir.

Very well, then! Perhaps you would tell the Court whether you had noticed anything unusual in Mr Maxwell Brunton’s demeanour at any time, say, within the month preceding his death.

Emphatically, no, Mr Coroner. Mr Brunton was always a volatile personality. He was, if you take my meaning, gay one moment and dour the next. But I knew him very well, and a more generous, more understanding or more considerate employer one could not wish for. I was with Mr Brunton for a considerable period …

Yes, yes! Please will you confine yourself to answering the question? Are we to understand that you had noticed nothing unusual in Mr Brunton’s behaviour at any time immediately prior to his death?

You are, sir.

There was no depression, then? No fear, no private or public trouble which Mr Brunton told you about or which you got to know of in any way?

Until the day of his death, no, sir. And, I suppose, really nothing outstanding upon that day. You have cautioned me, Mr Coroner, because you appear to think that I give unduly long and inapposite answers, and therefore I had better perhaps confine myself to stating that—

Come, come! Please! Are we to gather that there was some unusual depression on the part of Mr Brunton on the day of his death, or some unusual and unpleasant happening?

I was striving, Mr Coroner, to answer your question to the best of my ability. I do not want to exaggerate any of the matters or to minimise them. I simply seek to do my duty. On the day of his death Mr Brunton was worried. I am afraid that I am cognisant of the cause of this worry—perhaps I should use the plural because it was worries and not worry. On that day it came to my knowledge that Mr Brunton had various—er—how shall I put it?—disagreements with members of his family. Nothing serious, of course, and really, if you had not asked such specific questions, I should not have thought these things worth mentioning.

With whom were these disagreements, Mr Harrison?

Perhaps, Mr Coroner, ‘disagreements’ was too strong a word, and really, you know, I cannot see that mere family breezes, shall I say, can have—

Mr Harrison! What you can or cannot see is no doubt interesting. The Court, however, merely wishes for facts. With whom, to your knowledge, did Mr Brunton, upon the day preceding the morning of his death, have these disagreements?

There was one small disagreement, Mr Coroner, with Mrs Brunton, and another with Mr Adrian Brunton.

When did the disagreement with Mrs Brunton take place?

It was hardly a disagreement—I beg your pardon, Mr Coroner—I will confine myself to facts. At about eleven o’clock in the morning Mrs Brunton—a most unusual thing for her—came to the study. She stated that she wished to speak to Mr Brunton privately, and of course I immediately left the room. As I did so Mr Brunton called after me, ‘We must get that McGuinness affair settled, Harrison. Come back in ten minutes.’ I returned after ten minutes. Mrs Brunton, as I got to the door, was just coming out of it. I noticed that she had—that she had been shedding a few tears. Mr Brunton was walking up and down with his hands behind his back. He was—a trick of his when disturbed—muttering indistinguishably to himself. However, immediately he caught sight of me he became his old self, and we proceeded with our work.

That was the first little affair. The second—Mr Adrian Brunton’s—took place in the afternoon. I had been out for my constitutional, and I came back as usual about three-thirty. I had understood that Mr Brunton was not to be at home that afternoon, and naturally I went, after I had put up my hat and stick, straight to the study. As I drew near the door I became aware that Mr Brunton had not gone out after all. I heard his voice raised, apparently in anger. I hesitated a moment, not quite knowing whether I should go forward or tactfully retire. As I was, in fact, retiring, I heard another voice which I knew for Mr Adrian Brunton’s. That, too, was raised. It was even louder than Mr Brunton’s. It was uttering violent remarks of some description. Of course, I beat a very hasty retreat in order that I should not even inadvertently overhear anything not intended for my ears.

I see. Then you can give the Court no idea, Mr Harrison, of what either of the disputants were saying?

No idea whatever, Mr Coroner. As I came to the door and heard Mr Maxwell Brunton speaking, I did catch the words ‘not if you and your mother and that little—er, ahem!—bitch came to me on your bended knees,’ and then, as I was hastily retiring, I caught one or two words of Mr Adrian Brunton. He seemed to be—he is, I fear, as excitable or even more so than his father—using many violent epithets. The only remark of his which I clearly caught—you must remember, sir, that I was endeavouring not to hear, rather than to hear—the only remark which I clearly caught was something like ‘Bloody nice sort of father! You can have all your little bits, but when it comes to your son wanting to settle down …’ After that, Mr Coroner, I heard nothing. I was, you must understand—

Yes. Yes. Quite! You’re sure of these speeches, Mr Harrison?

Certainly, sir. I never say anything of which I am not sure.

I see. I asked you because they seemed rather lengthy to have been heard during this very brief sojourn of yours outside the study door. Nevertheless, I take it that you would swear to them?

Most emphatically, sir—and I must say that I fail to—

Shall we leave it at that, Mr Harrison? I would now like to ask you whether such family disturbances were usual in the Brunton household?

I find that a very difficult question to answer, sir. You must understand that not being a member of the family and being one who makes a point of never, shall we say, prying into other people’s affairs, and especially his employer’s—

I was asking you, Mr Harrison, whether such quarrels were usual in the Brunton household, to your knowledge.

So far as I am concerned, Mr Coroner, they were neither more usual nor more unusual than in any other household with which I have ever been associated. Mr Adrian Brunton, of course, has inherited his father’s volatile temperament, and they certainly were quite frequently at loggerheads about this and that. Mrs Brunton and Mr Maxwell Brunton were, however, an ideal pair. I think this occasion was the only one upon which I have noticed that there had been even any slight trouble between them. Mr Brunton, of course, was a man of very great energy, both mentally and physically, and he was always so busy with both his City work and his writing work and his numerous—er—hobbies, that he really seemed to see very little of Mrs Brunton, but I must say, however, that his manner toward her always showed respect and affection.

Very well. Gentlemen, if you have no further questions to ask this witness at the present stage …? Personally, I recommend that we should proceed to take the evidence of the other witnesses. Mr Harrison will be available if we need him later. Is that agreed? … Thank you, Mr Harrison. You may stand down. We may want you later.

Call Arthur Waterloo Jennings.

V

ARTHUR WATERLOO JENNINGS, BUTLER AND PARLOURMAN TO MAXWELL BRUNTON, DECEASED

WHAT is your full name?

Arthur Waterloo Jennings.

Please keep silence in the Court! … Now, Jennings, will you please take the oath.

With all me ’eart, sir! I swear by Almighty God that what I shall say in this Court—

One moment, Jennings, one moment! Will you please hold the Book? … Give him the Book.

Sorry, sir! Sorry, I’m sure! … I swear by Almighty God that what I shall say in evidence in this Court shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

You were, I believe, butler and parlourman to Mr Maxwell Brunton, deceased?

Yes, sir.

And how long, Jennings, have you been in service at 44 Rajah Gardens?

Two years, sir, and six months.

At what time, Jennings, did you see your master for the last time alive?

Can’t swear exactly to the minute, sir, but somewhere around 9 p.m.

Where was this?

At dinner, sir. After I brought in the port for the master and the other two gentlemen he said, as he always said: ‘There’s nothing more, Jennings!’ and I says: ‘Thank you, sir.’ And that was the last time I ever saw ’im alive, sir.

Now, Jennings, you have heard the evidence of the previous witnesses, particularly that of Mr Harrison?

Yes, sir.

Do you agree with Mr Harrison’s statement as regards the sequence of events, so far as you know them?

Yes, sir.

Will you please tell the Court, then, as briefly as you can, what happened after Mr Harrison waked you up at approximately half-past two.

Mr ’Arrison, sir, ’e come up and shook me awake like—well, really it was the missus what woke me, ’cause she woke first, an’ she sez: ‘Jennings! ’Ere’s Mr ’Arrison and oh, Gawd, wot’s ’appened?’ an’ I gets up and I sees it’s Mr ’Arrison and Mr ’Arrison ’e sez to me ’e sez: ‘Your master’s been killed,’ and I sez, ‘Wot?’ and he sez, ‘Your master’s been killed,’ and I sez, ‘Oh, my Gawd!’ …

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