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Jimson swore to tell the truth, then gave his name and occupation. He was so nervous he gulped and stumbled over his words.
The coroner smiled at him benignly.
“Now, Mr. Jimson, simply tell us what happened. There is no need to be so frightened, man. This is a court of inquiry, not of accusation. Now! Begin when the prisoner was put back in your custody after the trial was adjourned.”
“Yes sir! M’lord!”
“ ‘Sir’ will do very well. I am not a judge.”
“Yes sir. Thank you, sir!” Jimson took a deep breath and swallowed hard again. “ ’E were in a rare state, the prisoner, I mean. ’E were laughin’ an’ shoutin’ an’ swearin’ fit ter bust. There was a rage in ’im like nothin’ I ever seen afore, ’cepting it were all mixed up wi’ laughter like there was some ’uge joke as only ’e knew. But ’e didn’t offer us no violence, like,” he added hastily. “ ’E went easy inter ’is cell an’ we locked ’im in.”
“We?” the coroner inquired. “Can you recall which of you it was?”
“Yes sir, it were me.”
“I see. Proceed.”
There was almost silence around the room, only the slight sound of fabric rustling as someone shifted in a seat, and a whisper as a woman spoke to the person next to her. The journalists present wrote nothing so far.
“Then Lord Ravensbrook came an’ asked if ’e could see the prisoner, ’im bein’ ’is only relative, like,” Jimson continued. “An’ seein’ as ’ow things was goin’ bad with ’im in the trial. Guess like ’e thought as there’d be a verdict soon, an’ then ’e wouldn’t be allowed ter see ’im alone anymore, ’im bein’ a guilty man then, an’ still an innocent one now, leastways afore the law.”
“I understand.” The coroner nodded. “You do not need to explain, it is quite clear, and natural.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jimson did not look in the slightest relieved. “Well, it all seemed right ter us, Bailey an’ Alcott an’ me, so we let ’im in—”
“Just a moment, Mr. Jimson,” the coroner interrupted. “When you let Lord Ravensbrook in, how was the prisoner? What was his demeanor, his attitude? Was he still in this rage you described earlier? How did he greet Lord Ravensbrook?”
Jimson looked confused.
“Did you see him, Mr. Jimson?” the coroner pressed. “It is necessary that you answer truthfully. This matter concerns the death of a man in your custody.”
“Yes sir.” Jimson swallowed convulsively, only too desperately aware of his responsibility. “No sir, I didn’t go in with ’is lordship. I … I didn’t like ter, ’im bein’ family like, an’ knowin’ from the guard as ’ad ’im in court ’ow ’ard it were goin’, an’ as ’e were like ter be ’anged. I let ’is lordship in, w’en ’e said as ’e preferred ter be alone—”
“Lord Ravensbrook said he wished to see the prisoner alone?”
“Yes sir, ’e did.”
“I see. Then what happened?”
“Arter a few moments, ’is lordship came out an’ asked fer a pen an’ ink an’ paper, ’cos the prisoner wanted ter write a statement o’ some sort, I forget exactly what.” He fidgeted with his collar. It appeared to be too tight for him. “I sent Bailey fer ’em, an’ w’en ’e brought ’em back, I gave ’em ter ’is lordship, an’ ’e went back inter the cell wi’ ’em. Then just a few minutes arter that there were a cry, an’ a bangin’ on the door, an’ w’en I opened it, ’is lordship staggered out, covered wi’ blood, an’ said as there’d bin an accident, or summink like that, an’ the prisoner were dead … sir.” He took a breath and plunged on. “ ’E looked terrible white and shocked, sir, poor gennelman. So I sent Bailey for ’elp. I think ’e got a glass o’ water, but ’is lordship were too upset ter take it.”
“Did you go to the cell to look at the prisoner?” the coroner demanded.
“Yes sir, ’course I did. ’E were lyin’ in a pool o’ blood like a lake, sir, an’ ’is eyes were wide open an’ starin’.” He tugged at his collar again. “ ’E were dead. Weren’t nuffink more ter be done for ’im. I pulled the door to, didn’t lock it, weren’t no point. Alcott went ter report wot ’ad ’appened, an’ I tried ter do what I could fer ’is lordship till ’elp come.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jimson.” The coroner looked for Goode.
“Where is Mr. Goode?” he asked with a frown. “I understood he was to represent the family of the dead man. Is that not so?”
Rathbone rose to his feet. “Yes sir, he is. I don’t know what may have kept him. I ask the court’s indulgence. I am sure he will not be long.” He had better not be, he thought grimly, or we shall lose this by default!
“This is not a court of advocacy, Mr. Rathbone,” the coroner said irritably. “If Mr. Goode does not favor us with his presence, we shall proceed without him. Have you any questions you wish to ask this witness?”
Rathbone drew in his breath to make as long-winded a reply as he could, and was saved the necessity by the doors swinging open wide on their hinges. Ebenezer Goode swept in, coattails flying, arms full of papers, and strode up to the front. He bestowed a dazzling smile upon the coroner, apologized profusely and took his seat, managing to disturb everyone within a ten-foot radius.
“Are you ready, Mr. Goode?” the coroner asked with heavy sarcasm. “May we proceed?”
“Of course!” Goode said, still with the same smile. “Very civil of you to have waited for me.”
