The Gun Alley Tragedy: Record of the Trial of Colin Campbell Ross

by T. C. Brennan

The idea that Stanley should have seen, and been a party to, his brother’s lust, was too much even for the credibility of a Harding, so Ross is made to say that Stanley couldn’t see the girl when he went behind the counter, because the screen was down, “and when the screen was down no one dared to go into the cubicle.” The absurdity of the story of the screen in one aspect has already been referred to, but a glance at the plan will show its absurdity in another aspect. But even the plan does not show that the cubicle walls were only 6 ft. 4 in. in height, the lower 3 ft. being thin lining boards, and the upper 3 ft. 4 in. being glass. There was no top or ceiling to it. A girl could scarcely breathe in that cubicle without its being noticed by a man squeezing in and out at the end of the bar counter. Everything, according to Harding, took place in the cubicle, and the girl never left it from the time she went in at 3 o’clock until she was carried out, dead and nude, between 1 and 2 o’clock next morning. There are none of the perambulations by the child when alive, or by Ross when the child was dead, backwards and forwards with the body to and from the cubicle of which Matthews speaks.

According to the Harding confession, the crime was consummated soon after 6, and the girl was dead. The fact that no trace of blood was ever known to have been seen in the room had to be accounted for, so Harding makes Ross first wash out the cubicle, and then the whole bar. The washing of the cubicle would suggest itself to a much cruder imagination than Harding’s, but the little touch about the rest of the bar was worthy of him. Even Piggott and Brophy, when they had the matter so “well in hand” on the morning of the 31st, that they did not think to go into the cubicle, might be expected to notice that one part of the bar was cleaner than the other, for Harding would not have dreamt that the detectives would neglect the elementary step of looking into the cubicle. And so Harding put in the touch of verisimilitude about the washing of the whole bar.

If Harding’s story be true, then it was while Ross was engaged in this labour of scrubbing out the bar, with the dead body of an outraged and murdered child keeping vigil over him, that he went out into the Arcade to borrow a lead pencil from the vaudeville artist, Alberts, who just happened to have reason, at the psychological moment, to walk half-way through the Arcade and back again, like a famous character in history. Of course Mr. Alberts may have been mistaken in his identification, but at least he, too, as has been said, has shared in the reward for the information he gave.

Having finished his task of scrubbing out the bar, Ross had time on his hands—still accepting the Harding narrative—to clean himself up and go for a walk before meeting his girl. Having honoured his appointment, and met his girl at 9 o’clock—though, as a tragedy had occurred in the meantime which might have been expected to, and did, in fact, cost him his life, he would have been excused for breaking it—one would have thought that he would have suggested a walk in the park, or about the streets—anywhere but back to where the stark body of the little girl was awaiting him. Had he walked down Bourke Street the alibi that he was so anxious, according to Harding, to establish would have been much better established, for he might have been seen by a dozen acquaintances, and the risk which even Harding saw he was taking would have been avoided. But no! Ross must go and sit for an hour and a half with his lady love a few yards away from the child he had foully murdered so recently, and whose body he must dispose of within the next few hours, under pain of death.

CONFLICTS IN THE CONFESSIONS.

Harding, so he says (and Harding “is an honourable man”) puts the question to him directly: “Could Gladys not see the girl when she went into the wine cafe?” “No,” said Ross, “we had our drink in the parlour.” This again is the exact opposite of what Matthews says he said, for Matthews makes him carry the dead body out of the cubicle into the beaded room (which is part of the parlour) in order that the cubicle may be free for his reception of Gladys Wain. It might be thought that Ross had special reasons for wanting the cubicle, as it had a couch in it, but any idea that sexual misconduct took place that night is negatived by the fact that Ross was physically unfit and that Gladys Wain knew it.

Harding next makes Ross, after seeing Gladys Wain home, himself take train for Footscray, though he fixes the time at about an hour earlier than it was in fact shown, by overwhelming independent testimony, to have been. He also makes Ross say that he created a diversion on the tram in order to call attention to himself, and have the conductor and other witnesses to prove an alibi. The closest inquiries by the police, which it may be assumed were made, failed to disclose the faintest evidence of this “diversion.” In fact, it was absolutely negatived by the three men, merely casual acquaintances, who travelled home with Ross that night. Not only that, but the defence knows exactly how this story of the row on the tram originated. A witness named Patterson, on hearing of Ross’s arrest, went voluntarily to the local police station to say that he had travelled home with Ross that night on the tram. He was questioned as to the date, to see whether he was making any mistake; and by way of fixing the actual night he said that he remembered it because there had been a disturbance in the fish shop where he was having supper with another man in Footscray, before taking the tram for Maidstone, on which he saw Ross. The local police appear to have misunderstood what he said, and reported the disturbance as taking place on the tram. The Ross brothers, Ronald and Stanley, were cross-examined as to whether they themselves had not called on the motorman and conductor of the tram, and themselves indicated that a disturbance had taken place on it. The cross-examination only served, once again, to show the honesty of their belief in their brother’s case, for it revealed that they went to the tram office to find the names of the conductor and motorman who had charge of the tram Colin travelled by, to ascertain if they had noticed Colin on the tram, and to get, if possible, the names of any passengers on it.

Harding next put the question to Ross: “Did you come back by car?” A motor would naturally suggest itself as the means by which he would return to town, and it will be remembered that, according to Ivy Matthews, he said he had come back by car. But that was a matter that could be tested, and the detectives had no doubt satisfied themselves by inquiry before this that Ross did not return by a car. So Harding makes him reply to the query by saying: “No, a bike.” “A motor bike?” asked Harding. “No, a push bike,” Ross is supposed to have replied. Harding probably knew that Ross had no bicycle of his own, or at least he guarded against that contingency by making Ross say that he knew a man who had a bike and knew where it was kept. The questions and answers which follow are specially notable as carrying on their face the mark of falsehood. Harding’s narrative at this point was—“I said, ‘Did you go straight into the Arcade?’ He said, ‘Yes.’ I said, ‘But the gates are locked there at night?’ He said, ‘Yes, but I have a key.’ I said, ‘When you went to the Arcade, did you go straight in and remove the body?’ He said, ‘No, I went in and took the girl’s clothes off and went out and walked around the block to see if there was anyone about.’” The stilted nature of the dialogue suggests at once that it is the invention of a crude fictionist. But it suggests a good deal more than that. How did Harding know, if he had not been told, that the gates were locked at that time? How did he know, if he had not been told, that a tenant in the ordinary course, would not have a key to the Arcade? That is the first thing that would suggest itself if Ross said that he went straight back to the Arcade. The walking round the block to see if there was anybody about is equally incredible, for there might be nobody about when Ross walked around the block on one occasion, and several about when he came out with the body two or three minutes later. The purpose of that unreal inquiry, and the others that follow was to get answers fitting in with the story told by the vigilant lodging-house keeper, Ellis. But Ellis, with all his vigilance, strangely enough never saw Ross enter the Arcade with a bicycle. How that part of the story not only does not fit in with Ellis’s, but violently conflicts with it, will be shown in a moment.

A MODEL LODGING-HOUSE KEEPER.

Ellis’s story may be taken up here and analysed. He, as has been said, is a lodging-house keeper, but the sort of lodging-house he keeps is known by another name among the ribald. He saw Ross, according to his evidence, “a little after 9, before 10, then at 11, and two or three times between that and 10 minutes to 1,” when he retired. Strange to say, he did not see Ross go in with Gladys Wain or come out with her, though the sight of a young couple near his “lodging-house” is just the sort of thing that might have been expected to attract his attention. He did not see Ross come back on the bicycle, as he had been said to do, though one would have thought he could not have failed to see it, if it were a fact, and if he did keep constant vigil until nearly 1 o’clock.