Sir Harold reads a note from the judge, and then he goes on with his examination of the witness.
“Your husband, I understand, died within five hours of making this statement?”
“That is so, sir.”
“That was early yesterday morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you started at once, Mrs. Cheale, for Grendon? I understand you did this in obedience to a desire expressed by him?”
“Yes, sir. He made a joke like; he says to me: ‘You won’t have many opportunities of keeping your marriage vow—to obey me, Lucy—but I do give you an opportunity now. The minute the breath’s out of my body,’ he says, ‘you’re to go straight off with that paper of which you’ve got a copy. You’re to go to the office of that—’” she hesitates—“‘that rascally lawyer, Toogood,’ he called him, but then, sir, he always said all lawyers were rascals, and he often would have his joke. ‘There,’ he says, ‘you’re to find Toogood, and you’re to put this before him. No good telegraphing,’ he said, ‘to judge or counsel. Lawyers are dull, hide-bound villains, they’d take no notice of a telegram, they’d think it was a hoax.’”
The audience in Court turned amused eyes on the gentlemen who are hearing themselves so candidly described. But if they expect to see any signs of self-conscious confusion, they are disappointed. All the lawyers remain perfectly calm, and the witness goes on:
“He says to me, ‘Have you enough money for a motor, Lucy? That would perhaps be quickest of all. Then, on the other hand,’ he says, ‘you might be killed in the motor. So best go by train,’ he said. So I did what he wished. The moment he was dead I left him alone with that kind soul, Mrs. Lightfoot, and I only stopped long enough on the way to the station to get the black clothes I’m now wearing——”
And now the judge leans forward.