City of Spades - By Colin MacInnes Page 0,89
obsession?
‘But even more to be believed – yes, even more – is the evidence of the defendant. My learned friend has told you that this evidence is “incredible”. But is it? Is it incredible? I have no small experience of hearing witnesses in court, and from this I have learnt one important lesson.’ Mr Vial, who contrived to speak not like an advocate, but like the impartial spirit of justice itself, now looked very grave. ‘Only a too fluent witness, members of the jury, is to be mistrusted! Only a story that has no flaw – one which the witness, or witnesses, have carefully manufactured, polished and rehearsed – is likely to be untrue. Did you not notice – and were you not impressed by it? – that the defendant at no time sought to deny facts that might have seemed prejudicial to his case? Did you not hear how he freely admitted to some few, small, discreditable facts because he knew, in his heart of hearts, that on the major issue – the essential issue you are called upon to decide – he was without guilt of any kind?’ Mr Vial stood a second, hand raised aloft. ‘The defendant was an angry witness, members of the jury! He was angry because he is honest: he is honest because he is innocent!
‘Have a care how you deal with John Macdonald Fortune! This young man is a guest among us, who possibly has behaved foolishly, as young men will, but who has not behaved dishonourably. In this country he is a stranger: but a stranger who, coming from a country that is British, believes he is entitled to receive, and knows that he certainly will receive, that fair treatment and equal justice from his fellow men and women which has always been the glory of the British jury.’
Mr Vial sat down. The judge, his moment come at last, began his summing-up.
When he recapitulated the case of the prosecution, which he did in meticulous and admirably balanced detail, the case for the prosecution sounded quite unanswerable; but when he came to recapitulate the case for the defence, this case sounded quite unanswerable too. It was, in fact, impossible to tell what the judge thought, or even what he recommended; though he did, at one point in his dry, interminable, penetrating survey of the evidence, look up a minute at the jury and say this:
‘I need hardly remind you, I suppose, that you should attach great importance, not only to the substance of the evidence that has been put before you, but equally to the demeanour of the witnesses, and to the force, the weight, I might say, of the actual words they used. Now the defending counsel, you will remember, asked the accused at one point’ (the judge consulted his notes) ‘if he had ever lived off the immoral earnings of any woman. To which the defendant answered in these words: “Never. Never would I give my blood to such a person. Never.”’ The judge blinked at the jury. ‘You will have to decide whether these words which the defendant used convey to you the impression of veracity … of authenticity …’
When the judge finished – rather abruptly and unexpectedly – the clerk put the fatal question to the jury. After some slight muttering, they asked if they might retire.
‘Will you be very long, do you think?’ the judge asked the foreman.
‘There seems to be some considerable disagreement, my Lord,’ the foreman answered, glancing round at the eleven.
‘I see. Very well, you may retire.’
In the emptying court, Mr Vial strolled across to the dock, leant on its edge and, ignoring the two policemen, said casually to Johnny, ‘I thought the judge’s summing-up was very fair, didn’t you?’
‘I thought you was wonderful,’ said Johnny Fortune.
In the corridor outside, Theodora stood with Mr Zuss-Amor. ‘Splendid, my dear,’ said the solicitor. ‘I’m sorry to say the Press were scribbling busily, though. I hope you don’t lose your job.’
Smoking an agitated cigarette, Montgomery was accosted by the Detective-Inspector. ‘Well,’ said the policeman, ‘whichever way it goes, there’s no hard feelings on my part for your young friend. It’s only another case to us.’ As the court reassembled, the usher in charge of the jury (who had sworn publicly, before they retired, upon the sacred book, that he would not divulge a word of their deliberations), whispered, as he passed by, to the two officers guarding Johnny in the dock, what their still secret verdict was. Johnny