I was so dumbfounded by Mrs. Cope’s story that I could not speak to Kitty, could not look at her. I knew that Kitty would blame me for Mrs. Cope; it was my doing that Mrs. Cope had stayed and prepared breakfast for her and so found her out in her deception. For of course I realized now that Kitty had deceived me. It was impossible to doubt Mrs. Cope, she was trustworthy, she was completely and absolutely honest. She was one of those people who glory in honesty, who take a pride in their integrity. She would no more have gone into the witness-box and told lies than she would have flown. If Mrs. Cope said that Kitty had not spent the night in my flat, Kitty had not done so. I saw now that I had been used, that I had been deceived, made a dupe for Kitty’s convenience. I saw now why Mr. Corrieston had not answered my questions, why Kitty had contradicted herself, and, even in her wildest moments, had been careful to conceal the facts of the case. She was guilty, that was why. Her assurances that Garth was mad and had “made up the whole thing” were nothing but a pack of lies.
I was so angry at the way I had been duped that my terror fled. When I thought of how Kitty must have crept out of the flat while I was asleep, of how she must have looked at me lying there on the couch in the sitting room, and smiled to think of the success of her plan, and how easy it had been, my rage knew no bounds. I scarcely realized that the case for the petitioner was closed; I scarcely heard Mr. Amber’s opening speech for the defense, nor Kitty’s examination and cross-examination. What was the use of listening to it all? It was lies from beginning to end.
I was so angry that my terror fled, but only fled to return with redoubled force when I heard my name called and found myself getting up out of my seat and moving up to the witness-box. It was dreadful to stand there in front of the whole court and to know that I stood there to protect a lie. To know that although my evidence was true in every particular it was being used for an untrue cause. It was dreadful to stand there and answer Mr. Amber’s questions—the questions that I had been told he would ask me—knowing what I knew, knowing that everybody in court was aware that I was either an accomplice or a dupe.
Mr. Amber began by asking the questions for which I had been prepared, but he went on to other questions which were infinitely more worrying. I suppose Mrs. Cope’s evidence had altered his line of defense, the old line of defense had been swept away by Mrs. Cope. Even the fact that the milk (which I had left for Kitty’s tea) had been finished was of no importance now, for Mrs. Cope had admitted to having drunk it herself. Mr. Amber left the subject of milk severely alone; he tried, instead, to get me to discredit Mrs. Cope, to say she was untruthful and dishonest. He wanted me to say I had missed things from the flat and had suspected Mrs. Cope—I couldn’t do it. I was aware that my answers were not the answers that Mr. Amber wanted, and that they were unhelpful to Kitty’s defense, but I could not make them otherwise.
At last, to my relief, Mr. Amber relinquished the subject of Mrs. Cope and passed on to other matters.
“Do you sleep very heavily, Miss Dean?” he inquired.
“No, I don’t think so. Not unless I am very tired.”
“You were sleeping on the sofa that night?”
“Yes.”
“Was it as comfortable as a bed?”
“No.”
“It was not so comfortable as a bed. You would not sleep so well as usual, I imagine.”
“No, I don’t suppose I should.”
“Is it likely that anyone—anyone at all—could have passed through the room without waking you?”
“It does not seem—likely,” I replied feebly. What was the good of asking me that? Kitty had passed through the room when I was asleep, she must have done so. We all knew that she had done so. The man was trying to make me lie.
He bent forward earnestly and said, “Miss Dean, think for a moment. Can you remember hearing a sound from the bedroom the next morning?”
I knew the whole court was awaiting my answer with breathless interest.
“No,” I said faintly, “I heard nothing.”
“You knew the respondent was asleep?”
“Yes, I went about the flat very quietly, I did not want to disturb her.”
“Did you open the bedroom door and look in to see whether she was all right? She had been indisposed the night before, if I remember rightly.”
“She had a headache.”
“Yes, so you looked in to see if she were better?”
“No.”
“Wasn’t it rather strange not to look in before leaving the flat?”
“She asked me not to disturb her,” I replied.
I knew, the moment the words had left my lips, that it was the wrong thing to say. How dreadful it is that one can never recall words! There was a rustle in court. I looked toward Kitty and saw her eyes fixed upon me; they were full of scorn and hatred.
Mr. Amber cleared his throat and continued, “Did the respondent visit your flat on the day upon which the Divorce Papers were served?”
“Yes. She called for me at Wentworth’s and we went back to the flat together.”
“Was Mrs. Cope there?”
“Yes.”
“What took place?”
“My sister told me about the Divorce Papers—showed them to me.”
“Was Mrs. Cope present?”
“No, she had gone.”
“Why?”
“I told her I would make the tea—that she need not wait.”
“Was there any unpleasantness before she left?”
“Oh yes. At least Mrs. Wisdon asked me to send her away.”
“Can you remember the words she used?”
“Approximately. She said, ‘Send that dreadful woman away; I can’t think how you can bear her near you.’”
“Did Mrs. Cope hear the words?”
“I’m afraid she did. I was sorry about it.”
“You were sorry about it. You knew that Mrs. Cope was easily offended, that she was a dangerous woman to offend.”
“I was sorry because I knew it would hurt her feelings.”
“Was Mrs. Cope angry?”
“Yes, I think she was.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘Oh, Mrs. Wisdon’s tired is she, she’s had a tiring day has she? Fancy that!’—or words to that effect.”
“She said it in a disagreeable way?”
“Yes.”
“Did you form the opinion that her feeling toward the respondent was amicable?”
“No.”
“You felt the respondent had made an enemy, rather a dangerous and unscrupulous enemy, perhaps?”
“I didn’t think of that. I just felt sorry that Mrs. Cope’s feelings were hurt.”
I saw by this time what Mr. Amber was driving at. He wanted to prove that Mrs. Cope was furious with Kitty; that she had given her evidence maliciously. It seemed to me a very frail straw to support his case, but I suppose it was the only straw left. I thought that it might be true up to a certain point. Mrs. Cope was not above getting her own back for the insult which had been offered her—probably she was glad of the opportunity—but she wouldn’t have lied to get her own back, I was sure of that. I had known the woman for twelve years and she was a simple creature, simple and good-hearted; intensely loyal to her friends, implacable to her enemies. Kitty had made an enemy of Mrs. Cope by a few inconsiderate words and this was the result. It would have been just as easy for Kitty to have made a friend of Mrs. Cope, and, if she had done so, Mrs. Cope would have gone to the stake rather than given evidence against her. Those few words of Kitty’s had lost her case, for it was lost entirely upon Mrs. Cope’s evidence. The alibi which seemed to be the whole defense had been utterly destroyed; there was not a shred of it left.
Mr. Amber sat down, and Garth’s counsel rose to cross-examine me. He did not trouble me much; he had won his case already, and he knew it—everybody in court knew it.
I did not go back to my seat after leaving the witness-box; I was too frightened of Kitty to go back. That look of hatred which I had caught was too clear in my mind. I leaned against the wall at the back of the court feeling sick and shaken. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm and looked down into the red, cheerful face of Mrs. Cope.
“You come along wif me, Miss,” she said in a friendly manner. “You do look green an’ no mistaike. Come an’ ’ave a nice cup o’ tea wif me. They won’t want us no more; it’s all over but the shouting.”
I let her lead me away. What she said was quite true—it was all over but the shouting.
Mrs. Cope and I had tea together in the court restaurant. I was glad of the tea, and I was glad of Mrs. Cope’s cheerful company. She made the whole affair seem unreal—she was real and human, the other was a bad dream. We talked about everyday matters, about the crying need for new linoleum for my hall, and whether the curtains in my sitting room could be made to last out another winter. When we had had our tea we went back to the courtroom, the three counsels had finished addressing the court and the Judge was summing up. He was very short.
“…the crux of the matter is this, do you or do you not believe in the honesty of the witnesses? If you believe them to be speaking the truth you have no option but to find the respondent guilty of adultery with the co-respondent, and the co-respondent guilty of adultery with the respondent. But if you believe the witnesses to be untrustworthy and moved by malice to give lying evidence you may discount their evidence or dismiss it entirely. I can trust you to give your best attention to the matter, weighing the evidence with care and impartiality. You may retire if you wish to do so.”
“There is no need for us to retire, my lord,” replied the foreman.
“You are agreed upon your verdict?”
“Yes, we are all agreed.”
“Do you find the respondent guilty of adultery with the co-respondent?”
“Yes.”
“Do you find the co-respondent guilty of adultery with the respondent?”
“Yes.”
I had known that Kitty’s case was hopeless, but the bald words were a shock, nevertheless. I did not wait to hear the Judge; I blundered out of the place, found a taxi and went home.