“Oh, there can be no question about that, my lord—none whatever,” returned the detective.
“I am glad you agree with me in this. Well, we acted wisely, I think, in committing the prisoner without any adjournment. I do not hold with protracted examinations. It has been truly remarked that, under the old system, an inquiry into a criminal charge before a magistrate was less an investigation of the entire circumstances of the case than an examination of the prisoner. Certain broad facts were stated, certain leading witnesses were examined, and the prisoner was then requested to explain himself. In serious cases he was closely and sharply questioned; and abundant testimony as to this practice may be found by turning to the newspaper reports of the proceedings before the magistrates in the cause celèbre of the murder at Gill’s Hill. Thurtell, Hunt, and Probert, being suspected of the murder of Mr. Weare, were examined by the bench as to their complicity, and, their evidence being considered unsatisfactory, they were duly committed for trial.”
“I am not able to speak from my own personal knowledge,” said Mr. Chicknell, “as it was before my time; but I have carefully read the reports of the case, and I may say that it is much to be regretted that the practice of questioning the prisoner has been discontinued. Now we always treat great criminals with so much consideration and deference that they must not be annoyed, or their feelings hurt by being asked questions. The modern system is virtually to induce the prisoner to hold his tongue very tenaciously indeed, while the lawyers are encouraged to be as discursive and verbose as they please. The value of the evidence one way or the other is heavily discounted. The real facts of the case get mixed up in an inextricable tangle, heavy expense is entailed on the country, and almost ruinous costs are incurred by the prisoner.”
“But what sense is there in these forensic wrangles?” said the earl.
“They may be, and doubless are, very fine sport to the legal gentlemen engaged in the case, but they are essentially futile, and in the end are detrimental to the interests of justice.”
“There is hardly an instance of a case being heard without them,” said the detective. “Of course it is not my business to comment on the practice in these cases, but I have been compelled to listen with exemplary patience to wordy passages of arms between astute and sometimes irate barristers and witnesses quite as cunning of fence, but better able to keep their temper.”
“You are a martyr, Wrench—a suffering martyr,” exclaimed Chicknell, bursting out into a laugh, in which the earl joined.
“I don’t put it so strong as that, sir. It is the magistrate who is the martyr. He is bound to sit patiently while a multitude of perfectly irrelevant matters are introduced, discussed, and squabbled over. It is as clear as noonday that his decision cannot be influenced one way or the other by these interminable debates; still the lawyers, being paid to talk like Mr. Slapperton, are praiseworthily anxious to earn their fees.”
“But touching this man—the prisoner, Chudley,” inquired the earl, bringing the discussion to an end—“he will be well looked after now, I suppose; more rigid measures will be adopted by the prison authorities?”
“Oh, there is not the least doubt of that, my lord. There will not be the most remote possibility of his effecting his escape.”