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Authors: Leslie Charteris
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witness,
please.”
“Algernon Sidney
Fairweather.”
Fairweather went up on to
the platform and took the oath. The coroner’s manner
became less peremptory. He clearly regarded it as a
pleasant relief to be able to examine a witness of his own
class.
“You are the owner of
Whiteways, Mr Fairweather?”
“I am.”
“The deceased was a
guest in your house on the night of the seventeenth ?”
“He was.”
“Which room was he
occupying?”
“The end bedroom in
the west wing, directly above the library.”
“So that in the event
of the collapse of the floor of his room, his bed would fall through into the
library?”
“It would.”
The coroner glanced at the
jury triumphantly, as much as to say: “There you are, you see.” Then
he turned back to Fairweather even more
deferentially.
“Would you give us
your account of what occurred on the night of the fire,
Mr Fairweather?”
Fairweather clasped his
hands in front of him, frowning seriously with the
expression of a man who is carefully and conscientiously
marshalling his memories.
“We had dinner a
little early that night—at about seven o’clock—because
Captain Knightley and Lady Valerie were going
to the cinema. They left immediately after dinner, and
shortly afterwards Lady Sangore went to her room to
write some letters. The rest of us sat and talked in the library until about half-past ten, when Kennet went to bed. That was the last time any of us saw him. At about a quarter past eleven Captain Knightley and Lady Valerie returned, and I
should think we stayed up for not more than another
quarter of an hour. Then we all went to bed.
“Some time later—I
should imagine it was about half- past twelve—I was awakened
by the clanging of the fire alarms. I put on a pair of
trousers and left my room. At once it became obvious to
me that the fire was serious. There was a great deal of
smoke on the stairs, and from the sound of the flames
and the light they gave I could see that the fire must
have taken a firm hold on the ground floor.
“You must understand
that I had just been suddenly woken up, and I was
somewhat bewildered. As I hesitated, I saw Captain
Knightley come along the passage carrying Lady
Valerie. Then I heard General Sangore’s voice out side
shouting ‘Hurry up and get out, everybody!’ I started to
follow Captain Knightley, and I was halfway down the stairs
when I met Mr Luker coming up. He said ‘Oh, that’s all
right—I was afraid you hadn’t heard. The others are all
out.’ “
“And then?”
“I ran out into the
garden with him. That’s about al’ I can remember. It
all happened so quickly that my recol lections are a
trifle hazy. I still don’t know how we came to
forget Kennet until it was too late, but I can only imagine that in the excitement Mr Luker and myself mutually mis understood each other to have accounted for the people we had not seen. It was a tragic mistake which has haunted me ever since.”
The coroner wagged his head
sympathetically, as if he could feel everything that Fairweather must have
suffered.
“I’m sure that we all
appreciate your feelings,” he said. He
turned the papers on his table, and went on, as though apologizing
for bringing back any more painful memories: “Have
you any idea as to how the fire could have started?”
“None. It may have
been a faulty piece of electric wiring, or
a cigarette end carelessly dropped somewhere. It must have been something like
that.”
“Thank you, Mr
Fairweather,” said the coroner. “Next witness,
please.”
There was an interruption.
Before the sergeant could call out the next name the
little black-bearded juryman opened his mouth.
” ‘Arf a mo,” he
said. “I’ve got some questions I’d like to
ask.”
The coroner stared at him
as though he had been guilty of some indecency. He seemed to find it
extraordinary that a member of the jury
should wish to ask a question.
The little juryman returned
his stare defiantly. He had
please.”
“Algernon Sidney
Fairweather.”
Fairweather went up on to
the platform and took the oath. The coroner’s manner
became less peremptory. He clearly regarded it as a
pleasant relief to be able to examine a witness of his own
class.
“You are the owner of
Whiteways, Mr Fairweather?”
“I am.”
“The deceased was a
guest in your house on the night of the seventeenth ?”
“He was.”
“Which room was he
occupying?”
“The end bedroom in
the west wing, directly above the library.”
“So that in the event
of the collapse of the floor of his room, his bed would fall through into the
library?”
“It would.”
The coroner glanced at the
jury triumphantly, as much as to say: “There you are, you see.” Then
he turned back to Fairweather even more
deferentially.
“Would you give us
your account of what occurred on the night of the fire,
Mr Fairweather?”
Fairweather clasped his
hands in front of him, frowning seriously with the
expression of a man who is carefully and conscientiously
marshalling his memories.
“We had dinner a
little early that night—at about seven o’clock—because
Captain Knightley and Lady Valerie were going
to the cinema. They left immediately after dinner, and
shortly afterwards Lady Sangore went to her room to
write some letters. The rest of us sat and talked in the library until about half-past ten, when Kennet went to bed. That was the last time any of us saw him. At about a quarter past eleven Captain Knightley and Lady Valerie returned, and I
should think we stayed up for not more than another
quarter of an hour. Then we all went to bed.
“Some time later—I
should imagine it was about half- past twelve—I was awakened
by the clanging of the fire alarms. I put on a pair of
trousers and left my room. At once it became obvious to
me that the fire was serious. There was a great deal of
smoke on the stairs, and from the sound of the flames
and the light they gave I could see that the fire must
have taken a firm hold on the ground floor.
“You must understand
that I had just been suddenly woken up, and I was
somewhat bewildered. As I hesitated, I saw Captain
Knightley come along the passage carrying Lady
Valerie. Then I heard General Sangore’s voice out side
shouting ‘Hurry up and get out, everybody!’ I started to
follow Captain Knightley, and I was halfway down the stairs
when I met Mr Luker coming up. He said ‘Oh, that’s all
right—I was afraid you hadn’t heard. The others are all
out.’ “
“And then?”
“I ran out into the
garden with him. That’s about al’ I can remember. It
all happened so quickly that my recol lections are a
trifle hazy. I still don’t know how we came to
forget Kennet until it was too late, but I can only imagine that in the excitement Mr Luker and myself mutually mis understood each other to have accounted for the people we had not seen. It was a tragic mistake which has haunted me ever since.”
The coroner wagged his head
sympathetically, as if he could feel everything that Fairweather must have
suffered.
“I’m sure that we all
appreciate your feelings,” he said. He
turned the papers on his table, and went on, as though apologizing
for bringing back any more painful memories: “Have
you any idea as to how the fire could have started?”
“None. It may have
been a faulty piece of electric wiring, or
a cigarette end carelessly dropped somewhere. It must have been something like
that.”
“Thank you, Mr
Fairweather,” said the coroner. “Next witness,
please.”
There was an interruption.
Before the sergeant could call out the next name the
little black-bearded juryman opened his mouth.
” ‘Arf a mo,” he
said. “I’ve got some questions I’d like to
ask.”
The coroner stared at him
as though he had been guilty of some indecency. He seemed to find it
extraordinary that a member of the jury
should wish to ask a question.
The little juryman returned
his stare defiantly. He had
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