The Case Is Closed by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online

will in your favour?’
    Bertram Everton: ‘Well, not exactly, don’t you know.’
    The Coroner: ‘What did he say?’
    Bertram Everton: ‘Well, if you really want to know, he said that if he’d got to choose between a smoothtongued hypocrite and a damned tomfool, he’d choose the fool, don’t you know.’
    (Laughter in the Court.)
    The Coroner: ‘And you took that reference to yourself?’
    Bertram Everton: ‘Well, it seemed to point that way, don’t you know.’
    The Coroner: ‘You took him to mean that he was about to execute a will in your favour?’
    Bertram Everton: ‘Well, I didn’t think he’d do it, don’t you know. I just thought he’d had a row with Geoffrey.’
    The Coroner: ‘Did he tell you so?’
    Bertram Everton: ‘No — I just got the impression, don’t you know.’
    Hilary’s cheeks burned with anger. If it had been a proper trial, he wouldn’t have been allowed to say those things. You can say anything in a Coroner’s court, and this Bertie creature had got across with his suggestion of a quarrel between Geoff and his uncle. From first to last there was never a shred of evidence that there had ever been such a quarrel, but from first to last the suggestion was believed by the public. They read Bertie Everton’s evidence at the inquest, and they believed that Geoffrey Grey had quarrelled with his uncle —that James Everton had found him out in something discreditable, and that that was why he had altered his will. And the jury which afterwards tried Geoffrey Grey for his uncle’s murder was drawn from that same public. Once a suggestion has entered the general atmosphere of human thought, it is very difficult to neutralise it. Bertie Everton’s unsubstantiated suggestion of a quarrel undoubtedly helped to set the black cap on the judge’s head.
    Hilary turned a page. What she had been reading was partly a newspaper report and partly a transcription into type of shorthand notes. As she turned the leaf, she saw before her a photograph of Bertie Everton — ‘Mr. Bertram Everton leaving the court.’ She had seen him once at the trial of course, but that was like remembering a nightmare. Hilary looked with all her eyes, but she couldn’t make very much of what she saw. Not very tall, not very short. Irregular features and longish hair. The picture was rather blurred, and of course no photograph gave you the colouring. She remembered that Bertie Everton had red hair. He seemed to have rather a lot of it, and it was certainly much too long.
    She went on reading his evidence.
    He said he had taken the ten o’clock non-stop from Edinburgh to King’s Cross, arriving at half past five on the afternoon of the 15th, and after dining with James Everton he had caught the 1.5 from King’s Cross, arriving in Edinburgh at 9.36 on the morning of the 16th. He had gone straight to the Caledonian Hotel, where he had a late breakfast and then put in some arrears of sleep. He explained at considerable length that he could never sleep properly in a train. He lunched in the hotel at half past one, after which he wrote letters, one to his brother and one to the Mr. White who had been mentioned in connection with the set of Toby jugs. He had had occasion to complain about the bell in his room being out of order. He went out for a walk some time after four o’clock, and on his way out he went into the office to enquire if there had been any telephone message for him. He thought there might have been one from the man who had the jugs. On his return to the hotel he went to bed. He was still very short of sleep, and he wasn’t feeling very well. He did not go into the dining-room, because he did not want any dinner. He went straight up to his room and rang for some biscuits. He had a biscuit or two and a drink out of his flask, and went to bed. He couldn’t say what time it was — somewhere round about eight o’clock. He wasn’t noticing the time. He wasn’t feeling at all well. He only wanted to go