The Japan Weekly Mail summary of news:
Yokohama has been beaten twice this week at football by Naval teams.
Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Dowager, Consort of the late Emperor Komei, died on the 11th inst. Court and official mourning has been ordered. The interment will take place in Kyoto, the Emperor and Empress attending.
The British Minister, Sir Ernest Satow, proceeded to the Aoyama Palace on Tuesday on a visit of condolence on the death of Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Dowager. Afterwards His Excellency proceeded to the Imperial Palace on the same errand.
This week has been the coldest during the present winter. Skating has been indulged in at Yokohama, Shinagawa, Hakone and Tokyo.
All the foreign legations in Tokyo have their flags flying at half-mast as a token of mourning for the death of the Empress Dowager.
From all the great trading centres of the world comes news this week of a dearth of subsidiary coins.
Amy listened in silence to her own words. Robert Russell read from her statement at the inquest last November. His voice filled the court, edged by a sarcasm that ensnared her story. His tone brought it up like a helpless fish on a hook for the judgement of the world. She remembered the inquest; she had come straight from the funeral to face them all. They had been arranged in displeasure before her, their eyes sullen with thoughts not yet released into conviction. Her fear had been perforated then by hope and determination. But now in Robert Russell’s mouth her words sounded suspect, even to herself. She listened to him reiterate all she had said that November day about the visit to her home of the mysterious woman they knew as Annie Luke. He picked up the bundle of her letters and looked up at Judge Bowman.
‘The letter, Exhibit Q2, my lord, is from the deceased. It is dated Wednesday, 14 October and addressed to Miss Annie Luke, Post Office, Yokohama. It reads:
I feel greatly distressed about you ever since I got your card last Saturday and have been endeavouring to find you. I wish to and will help you if I can only find you. Meet me this evening at 5.30 on the Bund opposite the Club Hotel. R.
Mr Russell continued again with Amy’s statement. ‘On 29 October I received an anonymous note delivered this time on the doorstep: “Beware, dare to speak one word of the truth and you shall never leave Japan alive.” Another letter postmarked 1 November was received in the same manner: “I have done what I can for you, true I have made you suffer, but I have written to Mr Russell and Mr Easely. Yokohama will be troubled no more by Annie Luke.”’
Mr Russell looked up and surveyed the court before speaking again in tones of disapproval. ‘The following letters were put in at Mr Easely’s suggestion and sworn to by him, my lord,’ he said.
Mr Easely stood up. ‘May the letters be read now?’ he asked.
Mr Russell took up a letter dated 29 October and addressed to Mr Easely from the mysterious Annie Luke.
Mr Easely. I do not know you, probably have never met you, but I gathered from Saturday’s papers that you will be acting on behalf of the wife of the man who was to me the world and more than the world. Dead men tell no tales; no, nor dead women either, for I am going to join him. Do you know what waiting means for eight long weary years? I have watched and waited, watched till I knew he would grow tired of her, that silly little fool, and then I came to him. What is the result? We, between us, electrify Japan. I have never professed to be a good woman, but for the sake of a few lines I do not see why I should let a silly innocent woman be condemned for what she knows nothing about. By the time you get this I shall be well on my way to join him, my twin soul. You may call this what you like, but I think deep down in my heart I write for the sake of the boy who is so like his father, let his mother take heed that he not enter into temptation. I shall write to the prosecutor. Annie Luke.
‘That was put in at Mr Easely’s request?’ Judge Bowman asked.
‘Yes. I had no intention of putting it in or of bringing it before the jury, but Mr Easely called for it.’ Mr Russell smirked. ‘I found it on my desk one morning after the postal delivery.’
Jack Easely rose at once to object to Robert Russell’s insinuation.
‘Mr Easely has also called for the letter from Annie Luke he received on 11 November last, which, it may be remembered, was after the inquest and on the first day of the magisterial proceedings to formally charge the accused with the murder of her husband. It may also be remembered that after the inquest was concluded Mr Easely offered by advertisement in the public papers a reward for the identification of the writer or writers of these letters. But the writer was not forthcoming.’ Mr Russell smirked. With a flourish he produced his pocket watch to precipitate the noontime conclusion. Judge Bowman nodded, and gathered his papers together. The court then adjourned for tiffin. Amy Redmore stepped down from the dock.
At two o’clock Judge Bowman rapped his hammer, intent upon afternoon order. The weight of all that threatened Amy did not obstruct the sense of entertainment throbbing through the court. The audience had lunched in high spirits at the Club or the Grand Hotel. They had returned a Bordeaux of an inauspicuous year, ordered champagne for a birthday and carried their celebration of life back into the court. Voices discussed the quality of suet crust and the superiority of meringue. Bitten-off sentences fell about Amy, voices juggling digestion with anticipation of the afternoon’s exposure. There was talk of the death of the Empress Dowager and complaints about the rules of mourning requested of the foreign community by the Royal Household. Loud decisions were taken to ignore the request and cancel no enjoyments.
‘Will those gentlemen standing in the public part of the court room take their seats so that there is standing room for others coming in,’ Judge Bowman ordered above the noise. At five past two it was quiet enough for proceedings to begin.
Bertha Kaufmann was called and sworn and examined by Mr Russell. Amy’s heart beat hard just looking at the woman. She heard again her ingratiating voice and thick, flat Swiss-German accent. She had a cold and reached nervously to pick a nostril before she realized what she was doing.
‘You are a Swiss citizen and nursery nurse to Mrs Phelps’s children?’ Mr Russell began, pacing up and down.
‘Yes, I am living here as a nursery nurse.’
‘You were an intimate friend of Miss Jessica Mary Flack, nursery governess to Mrs Redmore’s children?’
‘Yes, I was.’ Bertha Kaufmann burst suddenly into tears. A chair was brought forward for her.
‘Do you remember receiving from Miss Flack fragments of paper?’
‘Yes, I remember,’ Bertha Kaufmann sniffed.
‘Did you stitch these fragments together?’ Robert Russell picked up and waved Dicky Huckle’s pile of letters at her.
‘Were you aware what these fragments were and where they had been found?’ Mr Russell asked.
‘They were letters Mrs Redmore had torn up and dropped into her wastepaper basket,’ Bertha answered.
Mr Russell nodded. ‘Did you tell Miss Flack that you knew how to piece letters together?’ Jack Easely insisted on cross-examination.
‘No, I found that out for myself.’
‘Did she ask you to do it for her?’
‘No, I offered to her to do it.’
‘You advised her to collect these scraps, did you?’
‘I did so.’
‘And why did you do that?’
‘In case it should be known that gentlemen went down to 169, not in the form of house friends, that possibly it might put – possibly a false stain might be brought up against my friend. In that case those letters would be a written proof to the contrary.’
‘That would only be as regards Mr Huckle, I presume? Did you think your friend’s character stood in need of such protection?’ Jack Easely asked.
‘It would not be evidence if I were to say anything more.’ Bertha was suddenly coyly evasive. She blew her nose.
Judge Bowman leaned forward in annoyance. ‘But answer the question. Mr Easely is the judge of what he wants to elicit from you.’
Bertha Kaufmann pouted. ‘I am not English. I am not understanding quite the meaning.’ She frowned.
‘You say you wanted to prevent a false stain resting on your friend, and Mr Easely asks was her character such that she needed this?’ Judge Bowman explained. Bertha was shocked.
‘No. Oh no, no,’ she cried out in alarm. Judge Bowman leaned back in his chair. Soon Bertha stepped self-righteously from the witness box. There was a murmur of sympathy throughout the court.
It had been a day of some confusion. People shook their heads in exasperation, and argued privately far into the night over the mysterious Annie Luke, heard about that morning. Could it be she who had murdered Reggie Redmore? Did she even exist beyond imagination? And if she did, where was she now? Why had no one ever seen her, except for Amy Redmore?