As the appointed hour drew near a formidable fleet of cars blocked up the approaches to Malcolm Magill’s house. Besides the coroner, the police, the jury and the witnesses, a goodly number of the general public had attended in the hope of gaining admission. The details of the finding of the body had got into the papers, and apart from Malcolm’s prominent position, the sensational nature of the case had aroused intense interest all over the province.
The dining-room, a long low room with bow window at both side and end, had been cleared for the occasion. At the head of the table sat Dr Wylie, the coroner, a medical practitioner with a reputation for extreme shrewdness as well as kindliness and professional skill. Near him were Rainey, French and M’Clung. Beside M’Clung was a small, dark, vivacious-looking man whom French did not know. At the foot of the table on a couple of rows of chairs sat the jury. Representatives of the press were accommodated at a side table, while the remainder of the room was filled by two or three constables, a long row of witnesses and as many members of the general public as could squeeze themselves in.
After the preliminaries and the viewing of the body and grave had been completed, the coroner briefly addressed the jury. He was afraid, he said, the case was a complicated one and would occupy a good deal of their time. He knew, however, that they would give this ungrudgingly in the interests of justice. But before going on to the evidence he thought he would only be interpreting their wishes if he were to express to Major Magill and Mr Victor Magill, who, he understood, was also present, as well as the other members of the late Sir John Magill’s family, their sympathy with them in their tragic loss. And now, Sergeant, who was the first witness?
At this the vivacious man jumped up and said that he appeared for Major Magill. In answer to French’s look Rainey whispered that he was a Mr Dinsmore, one of the best known and most skilful criminal lawyers in Northern Ireland.
Sergeant M’Clung, instructed by Superintendent Rainey, was in charge of the case for the police, and very nervous he looked. It was his first really big case and he found the presence of so many ‘high up’ people embarrassing. However he rose to his feet and in a firm voice called ‘Malcolm Howard Magill!’ indicating immediately that this mode of address was not of his own choosing by adding in a more deprecating tone, ‘Come forward, if you please, sir.’
Malcolm looked pale and ill at ease as he stepped to the table and was sworn. The ceremony over, M’Clung solicitously pulled forward a chair, and when Malcolm had seated himself his examination began.
Under the coroner’s not unskilful lead Malcolm first deposed that the body on which the inquest was being held was that of his father, John Porter Magill. He next told of his father’s career in Belfast and retirement to London, and of the handing over of the mills to himself. He described the relations which had obtained between himself and his father, including his recent request for financial assistance and its refusal. He denied absolutely that this refusal had led to any estrangement or bitter feelings on the part of either concerned. Then he recounted the receipt of Sir John’s letter saying he was crossing to Belfast and asking to be put up, his own call at and subsequent telephone to the Grand Central Hotel, and his surprise at not seeing Sir John at the mill. He told of the telephone from Whitehead and of his taking out his car to search for his father. In detail he described his movements with the hours of his arrival and departure at the various places, followed next morning by his call at police headquarters in Belfast. Finally he spoke of the discovery of Sir John’s body in the plantation and his own horror and mystification thereat.
During Malcolm’s evidence there was more than one passage at arms—skilfully veiled under the guise of a respectful request for information—between his solicitor, the vivacious Mr Dinsmore, and the coroner. It was surprising to both French and Rainey to notice how little attempt Dinsmore made to hide the fact that he considered his client’s position precarious. To every question which might bring out a fact prejudicial to Malcolm he strenuously objected. Some of these objections the coroner finally admitted and some he did not.
These activities of Dinsmore’s revealed to an otherwise unsuspecting jury the significance of a good deal of the evidence. French observed more than one juror looking at Malcolm with a surprised, questioning air. And the further Malcolm’s evidence went, the more self-conscious and uneasy Malcolm himself appeared. He evidently realised what was indeed the fact, that he was making a painfully bad impression on his audience.
However, his evidence came to an end at last and he stepped back from the table. When he had signed his deposition Herbert Breene came forward and took the oath. He stated that he was an ex-army man and that he had acted as secretary to Sir John for the previous eight years. He told about Sir John’s statement that he was crossing to Belfast to see an engineer about his linen-silk invention and his instruction that he, Breene, should be at the Grand Central Hotel at 10.30 the following morning to take details of any agreement that might be come to between them. He described his fruitless wait in the hotel all that day and night. He had seen the body and he identified it as Sir John’s. The deceased was a wealthy man, blessed with good health and a cheerful disposition. He, Breene, did not believe he had an enemy in the world.
Here the coroner asked some searching questions as to the alleged disagreement on financial matters between Sir John and Malcolm. But he did not get much from Breene, who merely said that so far as he knew there had been a difference of opinion, but neither serious nor heated and not in any sense a quarrel.
Breene gave his evidence quietly, but with a convincing force. ‘I’ll take you next yourself, Sergeant,’ the coroner decreed and M’Clung in his turn took the oath.
Asked to recount in his own words the steps taken by the police as a result of Malcolm’s call, the sergeant described the checking of the movements first of Sir John and then of Malcolm and Breene, as recounted in Malcolm’s statement. Then he told of the discovery of the marks of the struggle and of the hat. He mentioned Malcolm’s second visit to police headquarters to suggest that the co-operation of Scotland Yard should be sought, following this with an account of his own visit to London and French’s taking over of the English end of the inquiry. Next he read the X.Y.Z. letter and described the search of the Lurigan plantation and the discovery and opening of the grave.
While all this evidence was being given, popular interest, which had been keen enough at the start, had grown to fever heat. The reason for Malcolm’s uneasiness seemed now to be realised on all sides, and while no one would meet his eye, he became the object of covert stares from all parts of the room.
Myles, the butler, was next called. He identified the clothes in which the body was found as those Sir John was wearing on the night he left London. He also identified the hat, produced, as that worn by Sir John on the same occasion. He confirmed Breene’s evidence as to his master’s character and temperament, bearing testimony to the kindness he himself had received at his hands.
The stationmaster at Larne was the next witness. He had seen the remains and they were those of a gentleman who had come off the Stranraer boat on the morning of Thursday, 3rd October. This gentleman had given his name as Sir John Magill. The stationmaster then went on to tell of Sir John’s request that his luggage should be sent to Major Magill’s, and how he had seen him leave in the train for Belfast.
Superintendent Rainey then got up and said that evidence had been obtained from various witnesses which led to the presumption that Sir John had spent the day in Belfast, travelling to Whitehead by the eight o’clock that night. None of this information, however, had seemed material to the police and they had not therefore called these witnesses. Should, however, the coroner desire, they would be produced.
To this the coroner replied that he noted the superintendent’s statement, and should he think it necessary when he had heard the remainder of the evidence, he would say so.
The stationmaster at Whitehead was next called. He deposed that a man, whom he afterwards identified as deceased, had come off the 8.00 p.m. train ex Belfast, arriving at Whitehead at 8.47. He told of deceased’s inquiry for Mr Rimbolt and his annoyance when he was informed that Mr Rimbolt was then living at Bangor. Finally he described deceased’s inquiry about a telephone, his use of the booth on the up platform, and his subsequent departure from the station in the direction of the Larne road.
A good deal of this evidence had seemed to the audience tame and dull after the sensational suggestions as to Malcolm’s possible part in the affair. But when the next witness proved to be Detective-Inspector Joseph French of the Criminal Investigation Department of New Scotland Yard, interest revived sharply. No one present except the police officers had ever seen a real live C.I.D. man and he was immediately accepted as the pièce de resistance of the entertainment. There was a little buzz through the room as people settled themselves to listen more intently.
French, however, proved a disappointing star turn. His quiet businesslike manner did nothing to quicken the pulse or touch the emotions, nor did the matter of his testimony arouse any excitement. His evidence, in fact, was practically confined to the discovery of the will, of which he handed in a certified copy. But the doctors stimulated the flagging interest.
Dr Finley was the first to be called. He began quietly enough by stating that he had examined the remains and had found that while there was a bruise above the right temple, the skin was not anywhere broken. But when after being reminded of the bloodstains on the road he repeated his statement to Rainey and French that this blood could not have come from the deceased, the proverbial pin could have been heard to drop. Everyone sat staring at Finley with an air of tense expectancy.
‘Were you able from your examination of the remains to state the cause of death?’ the coroner went on imperturbably.
‘No, sir,’ Finley answered, ‘not with certainty.’
‘You therefore held a post mortem?’
‘I did, with the help of my colleague, Dr Simpson.’
‘And did this reveal the cause of death?’
‘It did.’
‘Just tell the jury what that was.’
Interest still further tensed as those present instinctively leaned forward the better to hear the reply.
‘Death was due to shock following a severe blow on the head above the right temple. The skull was fractured though the skin remained unbroken.’
‘How in your opinion might such an injury have been inflicted, Dr Finley?’
‘It seemed to me that some soft and yielding though heavy weapon had been used, such as a sandbag.’
There was a little movement among the audience. Things at last were going as they should. The coroner went on:
‘In your opinion, doctor, could this blow have been self-inflicted?’
‘Quite impossible, I should say.’
The coroner wrote for some seconds, then looked up.
‘There is also the consideration that no such weapon nor indeed any kind of weapon was found,’ he remarked, continuing:
‘Now, Dr Finley, another thing. Does the position of this bruise suggest anything to you as to the positions which deceased and his murderer must have occupied when the fatal blow was struck?’
Dr Finley answered without hesitation.
‘If the murderer were right handed I should suggest that he was standing behind and rather to the right of deceased. If he were left handed the reverse would be the case; they would be standing face to face.’
Again the coroner wrote.
‘Was that all that you learned from your examination of the remains?’
‘It was all that my colleague and I learnt directly. But to make the examination complete we sent the stomach and certain other organs to the police analyst for chemical analysis.’
‘And did you get a reply from him?’
Dr Finley assented. ‘I believe he is in court,’ he added.
After a few more questions Dr Simpson was called. He corroborated Dr Finley’s evidence in every particular. Then M.Clung called ‘Professor M’Grath!’ and a fresh-faced man looking more like a successful business man than a professor of science, entered the box.
‘You are Professor Henry M’Grath, gold medalist at the London University and the holder of many other scientific distinctions, and now act as police analyst of Belfast?’
‘That is so.’
‘Did you receive from Drs. Finley and Simpson certain organs taken from the body on which this inquest is being held?’
‘I received certain organs. I understand they were taken from the body you mention.’
‘Did you submit these organs to analytical tests?’
‘I did.’
‘Please tell the jury what you found.’
At this question interest, if possible, intensified. The audience once again instinctively bent forward, the better to hear the reply.
‘I found in the stomach and intestines a trace of trional.’
‘Trional? That is a sedative, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it’s used for sleeping draughts.’
‘And what quantity did you find present?’
‘About twenty-five grains.’
‘Is that enough to cause serious injury?’
‘Oh, no. It represents a single fairly large sleeping draught only. It should not have had any permanent ill effects.’
The audience, cheated of their sensation, relaxed. But not a few faces showed bewilderment. The coroner wrote industriously.
‘Then your evidence is that at some time previous to his death the deceased had taken a sleeping draught?’
‘That he had taken a quantity of trional such as might be found in a sleeping draught,’ Professor M’Grath amended.
‘How soon would such a draught take effect?’
‘It is not possible to say with any degree of accuracy, as the time is modified by so many unknown factors. Different people react differently to drugs, and the same person will react differently according to his condition. For instance, if a man has just eaten a heavy meal, reaction will be slower than if his stomach were empty.’
‘I can understand that, professor, but can you not give us some idea?’
‘From half an hour to two hours, I should say. I couldn’t go closer.’
‘Half to two hours,’ the coroner repeated. ‘Now, Professor, can you say how long this draught was taken before death?’
Professor M’Grath shook his head.
‘That is even more difficult to answer. The most I could say is, probably within eight to ten hours, but I could not state that with certainty.’
‘Might it have taken place within four or five hours?’
‘Undoubtedly it might.’
French was a good deal impressed by this evidence, which was clearly what Rainey had been going to tell him when interrupted. It certainly tended to confirm Rainey’s theory of Malcolm’s innocence. If the sleeping draught might take effect within half an hour, it could have been taken before, say, nine o’clock. And though the professor would not commit himself as to the time between the taking of the draught and the murder, from his reply it would seem at least several hours. If therefore Malcolm really had been ill that night, he was innocent.
The evidence also explained a point which had given French a good deal of worry. The murderer, whether Malcolm or some other person—for French was still not convinced of Malcolm’s innocence—had conveyed Sir John, alive or dead, from Whitehead to Lurigan in a car. French concluded that it was in a car because he could see no other way in which the journey could have been made. Now, would anyone risk carrying a dead body in that way, when at any moment some accident or unforeseen circumstance might lead to the stoppage of the car and an investigation of its contents? French had always doubted it. But if the criminal drugged his victim with a harmless sleeping draught before starting the run, and murdered him only when he was about to destroy the evidence of his crime by hiding the remains, that would be an entirely different proposition. French was interested also in the choice of the sedative, one which could be purchased without a doctor’s prescription.
It was now beginning to look as if Sir John had been met and drugged shortly after he left Whitehead, probably on the pretext that a nip of brandy on a cold night would do him no harm. There would then have been no danger in driving him to Lurigan. If his presence were discovered he would no doubt be asleep, but he would wake well and unharmed and no suspicions would arise.
The more French thought over this theory, the more convinced he became that it was the truth. Moreover the hours worked in. If Sir John had been drugged about nine or half past, four to six hours later would bring it to half past two when X.Y.Z. saw the operations in progress in the plantation. This would—
French suddenly awoke to the fact that he was day-dreaming and missing what was going on. At once he switched his mind back to the proceedings, to find that Professor M’Grath was just returning to his seat. He was the last witness and when the coroner had adjusted his papers he addressed the jury. After some preliminary remarks on the serious and tragic nature of the evidence, he proceeded to recapitulate it in detail. Then putting aside his notes, he went on in serious tones:
‘Your duty is threefold. First, you have to say whose in your opinion is the body on which this inquest has been held, provided you are satisfied as to the identity in your own minds. Here I do not think you will have much difficulty. Secondly, you have to state the cause of death, again provided the evidence has left no reasonable doubt in your minds. Here again I think you will find your task easy. The medical evidence to my mind is clear, and I am sure you will agree that the deceased met his death as the result of a blow delivered by some heavy but yielding weapon such as a sandbag. Unfortunately that does not end the matter so far as you are concerned. You are to say, if you feel that you can do so from the evidence, how this injury came to be sustained. And here I need scarcely remind you that such an injury might conceivably have been caused in one of three ways: as the result of accident, suicide or murder. Should you think that the evidence justifies you in so doing, you will say to which of these three categories the present instance in your opinion belongs. Unfortunately again, even this may not end the matter so far as you are concerned. Should you find that this death falls into the last of the three categories, that it is in fact a case of murder, then you must consider who may be guilty of that murder. If in your opinion the evidence on this point is inconclusive, you will bring in a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. On the other hand, if you feel reasonably certain from the evidence of the identity of the murderer or murderers, you will bring in your verdict against that person or those persons.’ With a peroration about the importance of their office, the coroner dismissed the jury to consider their verdict.
And a lot of consideration it evidently took! For upwards of two interminable hours the remainder of the little gathering waited, afraid to go away and unable to settle down even to talk connectedly, while the shadows lengthened across the lawn and the light faded from the western sky. Rainey, French and M’Clung were frankly bored and anxious to get away, Malcolm Magill was pale and apprehensive, even Victor and the solicitor, Dinsmore, were anxious-looking, while the spectators still hoped for their sensation. Not one of them but would have given something he valued to have that period of waiting at an end.
At last, just after seven o’clock, there was a movement, and the jury filed back into their places. Everyone straightened up and the atmosphere once more became tense as the coroner asked the momentous question, ‘Gentlemen, are you agreed on your finding?’
The jury, the foreman assured him, were agreed on their finding, but it was not the finding which most of those present expected to hear. A scarcely veiled disappointment could even be seen on more than one face as the foreman read out the verdict, disappointment at being baulked of a major sensation. For no mention was made of Major Magill. The verdict was the familiar one of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown.