Helen Vardon's confession
stick lying in the shade on the shelf might have been overlooked?”
“It is quite impossible. I made a most exhaustive search, and I used
an electric torch for examining dark interiors. Moreover, the object
that I was looking for--a little parcel of precious stones--was much
smaller, and less conspicuous than a walking stick. I could not have
missed a large object like that. And I have quite a clear recollection
of looking on that shelf--it was the only shelf in the cupboard--and
throwing the light of the torch along it. I had to stand on tip-toe to
see in distinctly, and so, I suppose, had Mrs. Otway.”
“Do you swear that the cupboard was empty when you examined it?”
“I swear that it was absolutely empty.”
The coroner entered the reply in his notes, and then asked: “Did you
receive any communication from Dr. Thorndyke respecting his proposed
survey of the chambers at Lyon’s Inn?”
“He called to enquire in whom the tenancy of the chambers was vested,
but did not state why he wanted to know. I told him that the widow was
the lessee. I don’t know how he got her address. I didn’t give it to
him. I may say that when I had finished the inventory I locked up the
chambers, and kept the keys until I delivered them up to Mrs. Otway.”
“Thank you,” said the coroner. “That is all I wanted you to tell us.
And that, gentlemen,” he continued, turning to the jury, “appears to
be the whole of the evidence, with the exception of Dr. Thorndyke’s;
and the question now arises, what are we to do? Let me explain the
position, and then you can decide on our procedure.
“This enquiry was adjourned to enable the police to make some
investigations in connection with it. On their application, Dr. John
Thorndyke, who, I may inform you, is an eminent medico-legal expert,
was instructed by the Home Office to proceed to Maidstone to conduct
an exhumation of the body of the late John Vardon, the father of Mrs.
Otway. He was to make an examination of the body, and ascertain if
possible, whether the cause of the said John Vardon’s death was as
stated at the inquest, or whether, as is hinted in these anonymous
letters, he died from the effects of violence. The question is an
important one, but it is more important to the police than to us.
Then, it seems that the Home Office further instructed this gentleman
to carry out an independent investigation into the facts of this case
which we, in our humble and inefficient way, are trying to
investigate. It is an extraordinary proceeding, and one that I do not
in the least understand; but then I am not a medico-legal specialist.
I am only a mere coroner, and you are only a mere coroner’s jury. It
is just as well that we should know our place.
“Well, I understand that Dr. Thorndyke has made an examination of the
body of Lewis Otway, and, as you have heard, he has made a survey of
the deceased man’s chambers. We, also, have surveyed these chambers,
but apparently our survey doesn’t count; and Dr. Shelburn, whose
evidence you have heard, examined the body within a few hours of
death. It would seem as if medical evidence were the last thing we
want. Meanwhile I have had a telegram from Dr. Thorndyke saying that
he has been detained at Maidstone, and has missed his train. I don’t
know when he will arrive here. He may be here in a few minutes, or he
may arrive in an hour or two. It is for you to decide what is to be
done. We have a great deal of evidence to consider. We do not seem to
need any more medical evidence, and the question of Mr. Vardon’s death
is not of vital importance to this enquiry.
“The question is shall we wait to hear Dr. Thorndyke’s evidence or
shall we proceed to consider the great mass of evidence that we
already have? It is for you to decide, gentlemen.”
The jury conferred for a couple of minutes, and then the foreman
announced their decision. “The jury say, sir, that we are enquiring
into the death of Lewis Otway, not John Vardon. They would like to
proceed with the consideration of the evidence without waiting for Dr.
Thorndyke.”
“I am entirely with you, gentlemen,” said the coroner. “I think that
the evidence that we have heard will prove amply sufficient to guide
us to our verdict; and we can still revise our opinions if the expert
witness should have something fresh to tell us.”
Chapter XXVII.
The Indictment
During the short interval, in which the coroner took a final glance
over his notes, there was a general stirring among the occupants and a
suggestion of preparation for the next act. Jurymen re-settled
themselves in their seats, reporters straightened their backs, and
looked about them, the police officers and the spectators conversed in
low undertones. At length the coroner laid on the table before him a
single sheet of paper--probably an abstract of the evidence--sat back
in his chair, and looked towards the jury; whereupon a deep silence
fell upon the court, and he began his address:
“It is hardly necessary to remind you, gentlemen, that we are
assembled for the purpose of ascertaining how, when, and by what means
Lewis Otway came by his death; but it may be necessary to remark that
our enquiry is not entirely concerned with the immediate causes of
that death, but is also--and in fact, principally--concerned with the
more remote contributory circumstances. For in this case, the ‘How,
when, and by what means’ are simple enough. We have the testimony of
an eye-witness who saw the deceased hanging dead, from a peg on the
wall, under conditions strongly suggestive--in fact characteristic--of
suicide; and we have the testimony of the deputy-police surgeon that
all the appearances were those of suicide, and we have his expert
opinion that the cause of death was undoubtedly suicidal hanging.
Indeed, we may say that the immediate cause of death is self-evident,
and that the whole of our enquiry is concerned with the remote causes.
We are not asking ‘Did this man commit suicide?’ for the evidence of
the first two witnesses settled that question. We are asking
ourselves, Why did he commit suicide? The questions that we have to
answer are, Was that suicide the spontaneous act of the deceased, for
which he alone is responsible? Or was deceased driven to suicide by
the deliberate, purposive, and malicious acts of some other person, or
persons? And if the latter appears to be the case, Who is, or are,
that person or persons, and what degree of criminal responsibility
attaches to such acts?
“Now we have at our disposal a considerable mass of rather
miscellaneous evidence, and, I think the best way to deal with it will
be to sketch out lightly the general course of events, and fill in the
details later. The deceased, Lewis Otway, is the central figure of our
picture, and the history that we have to trace, is his history. As to
what we may call his past, that does not much concern us. Among the
Ancient Egyptians the deceased was conceived as being brought before
the tribunal of Osiris to answer for his conduct during his earthly
life. We are not a tribunal of that kind. We are not trying Lewis
Otway. If, as the police suspect, he had feathered his nest with a
certain amount of illicit plumage, that is not our concern. Our
interest in him is mainly confined to his connection with a particular
series of events which began with his marriage and ended with his
death. Let us now trace that succession of events, at first in
outline, and then in more detail.
“Lewis Otway first comes into our view on the occasion of his
marriage. As presented in the evidence of his widow, Helen Otway, that
marriage offers us the spectacle of an act of the most amazing folly.
We see an elderly man--and an unattractive one at that, as you must
have observed--marrying by compulsion, under threats, and greatly
against her wishes, a young woman, of very unusual physical
attractions, of great talent, and of exceptional mental gifts, and
strength of character. You have seen this lady, and have heard her
give her evidence, and you can confirm my description of her.
“It was, I repeat, an act of amazing folly. For she must, in any case,
have detested him. His conduct towards her was cruel and unscrupulous
to the last degree, and in marrying her he could not fail to introduce
a bitter enemy into his household. But there were added causes for
that repugnance to him which she has freely admitted. In the first
place, she believed that her consent had been secured by actual fraud.
And in the second place, Otway’s action was the undoubted
cause--whether directly or indirectly, we need not enquire at this
stage--of John Vardon’s death. So that our history opens with the
tableau of an elderly man who has married a young, beautiful, and
clever wife, who loathes him, and has abundant reason for loathing
him.
“And now we pass on to the second scene--a scene almost more amazing
than the first. Within an hour or two of the marriage ceremony, the
young wife has repudiated the marriage, and demanded a separation for
an indefinite period--practically a permanent separation. But it is
not the demand that is so astonishing. The really astounding thing is
that the husband seems to have agreed to this demand without demur.
Consider the extraordinary inconsistency of his conduct. On the one
hand we see this man, in his eagerness to possess this beautiful girl,
trampling without scruple on her happiness, and her father’s,
oblivious of everything but his own desires; on the other, we see him
meekly submitting to a demand which--natural as it may have been--the
law would not have supported.
“Whence this sudden compliance? Why did he consent? He need not have
consented. The marriage was quite regular. No suit for nullity could
have been sustained, whereas he could have sued at once for
restitution. Why did he agree in this incomprehensible manner to
surrender his unquestionable rights?
“But this is not the only inconsistency. The conduct of the wife is
even more inexplicable. When Otway gave evidence at the inquest on Mr.
Vardon he omitted all reference to the loaded stick; which is not
unnatural, seeing that it was a highly incriminating circumstance. But
that suppression of a material fact made his evidence, in effect,
false evidence. For the truth is, according to the terms of the
witnesses oath, the whole truth. Yet Helen Otway, when she gave
evidence, confirmed this virtually false testimony; and she also
suppressed--or, at least, omitted--the facts relating to the loaded
stick. Her explanation is that, feeling convinced that her father died
from a heart attack, she did not consider the stick incident of any
importance. In estimating the credibility of that explanation you will
bear in mind that the verdict was ‘Death from natural causes,’ but
that the jury were not in possession of the facts. You will also bear
in mind that this woman had seen her father lying dead, with a wound
on his head, and this man, whom she loathed, and detested, standing
over the body, grasping a formidable weapon. But whatever view you
take of the explanation, the fact remains that at the inquest she not
only refrained from accusing him, but she withheld a material fact
which, if it had been disclosed, might have put Otway in the dock on a
charge of murder.
“Here, then, are two cases of incomprehensible inconsistency of
conduct. But they are only incomprehensible so long as they are
considered separately. Consider them together and a perfectly
intelligible suggestion emerges. The husband had the power to compel
his wife to live with him--and he did not exercise it. The wife had
the power to expose the husband to a suspicion of having committed a
capital crime--and she did not exercise it. The appearance is that of
a surrender by each of the power to injure the other; in short, of a