In the Mayor's Parlour

by J. S. Fletcher

Krevin moved across to the witness-box with alacrity and went through the usual formalities as only a practised hand could. He smiled cynically as he folded his fingers together on the ledge of the box and faced the excited listeners.

"As there's no one to ask me any questions—at this stage, anyway—I'd better tell my story in my own fashion," he said. "And to save time and needless explanations, let me begin by saying that, as far as it went, all the evidence your Worships have heard, from the police, from Louisa Speck, from Dr. Pellery, from Spizey and his wife, from everybody, I think, is substantially correct—entirely correct, I might say, for I don't remember anything that I could contradict. The whole thing is—what does it lead up to? In the opinion of the police to identifying me with the actual murder of John Wallingford, and my brother there with being accessory to the crime. The police, as usual, are absolutely and entirely at fault—I did not kill Wallingford, and accordingly my brother could not be an accessory to what I did not do and never had the remotest intention of doing. Now you shall hear how circumstantial evidence, brought to a certain point, is of no value whatever if it can't be carried past that point. Hawthwaite has got his evidence to a certain point—and now he's up against a blank wall. He doesn't know what lies behind that blank wall. I do! And I'm the only person in this world who does.

"Now listen to a plain, truthful, unvarnished account of the real facts. On the evening of the day before Wallingford's murder, I was in the big saloon at Bull's Snug between half-past six and seven o'clock. Mallett came in, evidently in search of somebody. It turned out that I was the person he was looking for. He came up to me and told me that his wife was away and that he was giving a little dinner-party to my brother Simon and to Coppinger. They were already at his house, and he and they were anxious that I should join them. Now, I knew quite enough of my brother Simon, and of Coppinger, and of Mallett himself to know that if they wanted my company it was with some ulterior motive, and being a straightforward man I said so there and then. Mallett admitted it—they had, he said, a matter of business to propose to me. I had no objection and I went with him. What the girl, Louisa Speck, has told you about what happened after I entered the Bank House is quite correct—she's a reliable and a good witness and gave her evidence most intelligently. She took me up into Mallett's dressing-room, showed me where I could get what I wanted, and left me to make my toilet. I helped myself to clean linen, and I have no doubt whatever that the handkerchief which I took from one of the drawers which the girl had opened for me was that of Dr. Wellesley's of which we have heard so much in this case. I say, I have no doubt whatever about that—in fact, I am sure of it.

"Having made my toilet, I went downstairs and joined my host and his other guests. We had a glass or two of Mallett's excellent sherry, and in due course we dined—dined very well indeed. When dinner was over, Mallett got up some of his old port, and we settled down to our business talk. I very quickly discovered why I had been brought into it. What we may call the war between Wallingford, as leader of the reform party, and the Town Trustees, as representatives of the old system, had come to a definite stage, and Mallett, Coppinger, and my brother, Simon, realized that it was high time they opened negotiations with the enemy. They wanted, in short, to come to terms, and they were anxious that I, as a lawyer, as a man thoroughly acquainted with the affairs of the borough, and as a former official of high standing, should act as intermediary, or ambassador, or go-between, whatever you like to call it, in the matter at issue between them and Wallingford. Of course I was willing.

"Mallett acted as chief spokesman, in putting matters plainly before me. He said that Wallingford, since his election as Mayor of Hathelsborough, had found out a lot—a great deal more than they wished him to know. He had accumulated facts, figures, statistics; he had contrived to possess himself of a vast amount of information, and he was steadily and persistently accumulating more. There was no doubt whatever, said Mallett, as to what were the intentions of Wallingford and his party—though up to then Wallingford's party did not know all that Wallingford knew. There was to be a clean sweep of everything that existed under the Town Trustee system. The Town Trustees themselves were to go. All pensions were to be done away with. All secret payments and transactions were to be unearthed and prohibited for the future. The entire financial business of the town was to be placed in the care of the Corporation. In short, everything was to be turned upside-down, and the good old days to cease. That was what was to happen if Wallingford went triumphantly on his way.

"But it was the belief of Mallett, and of Coppinger, and of my brother, Simon, that Wallingford's way could be barred. How? Well, all three believed that Wallingford could be bought off. They believed that Wallingford had his price; that he could be got at; that he could be squared. All three of them are men who believe that every man has his price. I believe that myself, and I'm not ashamed of voicing my belief. Every man can be bought—if you can only agree on a price with him. Now, the Town Trustees knew that Wallingford had ambitions; they knew what some of his ambitions were, and of one in particular. They proposed to buy him in that way, and they commissioned me to see him privately and to offer him certain terms.

"The terms were these. If Wallingford would drop his investigations and remain quiet for the remaining period of his mayoralty, the Town Trustees would agree to the making and carrying out of certain minor reforms which should be engineered by and credited to Wallingford in order to save his face with his party. Moreover, they would guarantee to Wallingford a big increase in his practice as a solicitor, and they would promise him their united support when a vacancy arose in the Parliamentary representation of Hathelsborough, which vacancy, they knew, would occur within the year, as the sitting member had intimated his intention of resigning. Now, this last was the big card I was to play—we all knew that Wallingford was extremely desirous of Parliamentary honours, and that he was very well aware that with the Town Trustees on his side he would win handsomely, whoever was brought against him. I was to play that card for all it was worth. So then the proposal was—Wallingford was to draw off his forces, and he was to be rewarded as I have said. Not a man of us doubted that he would be tempted by the bait, and would swallow it."

Brent leapt to his feet and flung a scornful exclamation across the court.

"Then not a man of you knew him!" he cried. "He'd have flung your bribe back into the dirty hands that offered it!"