The Brooklyn murders

by G. D. H. Cole

“What about the servants?”

“Out of the question. They’re as innocent as you are.”

“What does it matter if they are innocent? Can they be proved so?”

Carter Woodman brought his fist down on the table with a bang. Then he said very deliberately, “I am anxious to use all legitimate means of getting Mr. Walter Brooklyn acquitted; but I must tell you once and for all, Thomas, that I decline to be a party to attempt to throw the guilt on any innocent persons.”

“My dear fellow, what is the use of talking about legitimate means in a case like this? You know as well as I do that only illegitimate means can give my client a dog’s chance.”

“Then I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

With that the interview ended. Thomas left Woodman’s office more firmly than ever convinced of Walter Brooklyn’s guilt, but also determined to follow up his stratagem of shifting the suspicion, or at least some part of it, elsewhere. The more he thought of the plan, the more it appealed to him. It wasn’t much of a dodge in itself; but it seemed to offer more hope than anything else in this case. If the fellow did get hanged after all, he would have only himself to blame. Thomas would have done his best.

Following up this line of thought, Thomas made up his mind that the first thing to do was to get full information about the servants.

Thus, Walter Brooklyn’s legal adviser, though with a very different idea in his mind, set to work upon an aspect of the case which had already been considered and investigated by the police. It will be remembered that Inspector Blaikie had cross-examined the two men-servants, and that subsequently he and Superintendent Wilson had agreed to have the two men watched—not that they were much disposed to believe that either of them had anything directly to do with the murders, but because their complicity or knowledge, or even their guilt, was just barely conceivable. Morgan’s presence at the house of his friends at Hammersmith on the Tuesday night, and his return to Liskeard House at about a quarter to eleven, had been duly verified; but his statement that he had gone straight to bed, and remained there until the morning, rested wholly on Winter’s evidence. There was no reason to suspect this, unless it should turn out that Winter was himself involved. The police had, therefore, directed most of their attention to the butler, who had certainly gone up to his room with Morgan at a quarter to twelve. Had he stayed there, or had he come down again and played some part in the night’s doings? On this point the police could find no evidence at all. Morgan stated that Winter was in his room in the morning, that his bed had been slept in, and that he rose at his usual hour. But Morgan had slept heavily, and he could not positively say that Winter had remained in his room all night. This fact, however, was clearly no evidence at all against Winter, and there had been nothing in his demeanour to suggest that he was in any way concerned. His past history, too, seemed to make him a most unlikely criminal. Accordingly, now that the evidence seemed to point conclusively to the guilt of Walter Brooklyn, the police, while they still kept some perfunctory watch on the two servants, practically dismissed them from their minds.

Thomas, when he had ascertained the main facts about the two men-servants, did not for a moment suspect that either of them was guilty, or think it likely that either had any knowledge of the crimes. His first step was to ask Walter Brooklyn himself whether he supposed that either of the servants could throw any light on the matter. Supposing his client to be at the least fully cognisant of the night’s events, he thought that the question could hardly fail to give him some guidance. But Walter Brooklyn displayed little interest, and by doing so confirmed the lawyer’s opinion that the servants had nothing at all to do with it. “Go and see them by all means,” Brooklyn had said, “but I don’t suppose they know anything about it.” That was all he would say, and he still stuck to the story he had first told Thomas, and maintained that he himself was equally ignorant of what had taken place. A marked coolness, which did not increase Thomas’s zest for the case, had sprung up between him and his client, and although certain questions had to be asked and answered, it was clear enough that Walter Brooklyn greatly preferred the solitude of his cell to his lawyer’s society.