Person or Persons Unknown (8 page)

“Did you get that?” he asked Mr. Marsden, who grunted affirmatively in response. “I must ask you in your further replies to speak up louder. But now. again for the record, you earlier gave your occupation to me as ‘seamstress, currently unemployed.’ Do you wish it to stand so?”

“Uh, yes. sir.”

”Your age?”

“Near as I know, twenty-two.”

“You identified the corpus of Teresa O’Reilly to Constable Perkins, did you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Could you explain your relationship to the deceased?”

“Sir?”

“Were you friend or acquaintance? Did you know her well?”

“I knew her well enough, I reckon. We shared a room in Angel Court.”

“Then you must have known her very well indeed.”

“Not so well as that. She had it in the daytime, and I had it at night.”

“A curious arrangement,” commented Sir John dryly, “but no doubt practical in certain circumstances. Tell us what you know of her.”

“Well, I know she was Irish, and she come here about two years past of a place she was forever speakin’ of called Waterford. She was about my age, give or take a bit, and, uh, that is surely all I do know of her.”

“And that is surely not a great deal.”

“No, sir.”

“Perhaps I can help you remember more. How did she earn her way?”

“Well, sir, I cannot be sure, for the room was hers in the daytime, and I was certainly not one to poke my nose in where it was not wanted, but I believe she had gentleman friends. They give her money.”

“How many such friends did she have?”

“Oh, many, sir. She was a real worker, that one, and bold as brass.”

“So what you are telling me is that she was a woman of the streets, a common prostitute.”

“You might say so, sir — though I am not one to pass judgment on another.”

“I dare say not,” said Sir John, “for I doubt you are in a position to do so.”

At that, one or two in the jury who had caught the implication of his remark burst out in sniggers and giggles. Again, Sir John called them to order, though in a somewhat more indulgent manner than before.

“Were there any of these ‘gentleman friends,’ as you call them, who visited her often?” he asked. “Any whom she mentioned by name to you?”

She opened her mouth right quick, and the thought came to me that she would give the name of him who had passed me in Angel Court. But then, perhaps thinking better of it, she shut her mouth tight, saying not a word and giving no name. I saw this, as did those in the jury — though Sir John, in his blindness, did not.

“You hesitate,” said he.

“I’m trying to remember,” said she. “But no, sir, I can think of none. Teresa just took who come along, and she feared none. Big as most men, she was — twice my size — and she could handle herself, if it come to it.”

“She would not easily wilt to a threat then?”

“Oh no, sir.”

“Nor would she hesitate to defend herself if she felt in danger?”

“Not her.”

“All right. Mistress Pratt, enough of that. Let us to the information you gave me when we talked last night in the yard off New Broad Court. What did you tell me then?”

She looked at him suspiciously, almost in disbelief. “Don’t you remember?”

Her response, delivered in innocent ignorance, sent the entire room into great thundering laughter. Taken quite by surprise, Sir John himself joined in. And having done so, he could deal with neither jury nor witness as harshly as he might otherwise have done. In truth, all he could do was wait until the laughter had subsided, his own with the rest, and bang upon the desk before him with the carpenter’s mallet he seemed always to have at hand. He pled with one and all to be silent as Maggie Pratt stood, looking about her, pouting as a child might, finding itself a laughingstock for adults. I noted that she was the only woman in the room and wondered did not that have something to do with their derisive hilarity. I found myself moved to pity for her.

“No, my dear Mistress Pratt,” said Sir John, having brought the room to order and gained control of himself, “I remember quite well what you told me. It is necessary, however, for you to repeat it for the benefit of the jury and for the record.”

“I see,” said she, rather coldly. “Well, in that case, I’m willing to oblige.” Then did she take a deep breath and commence: “I was walkin’ about, just after a bite and a brew at Tompkins Ale House, and I found myself in Duke’s Court, and there do I see a big blowen in talk with a soldier.”

“You’re sure it was a soldier, are you?” asked Sir John.

“Ain’t I? No mistakin’ that red coat.”

“I suppose not. Continue, please.”

“Well, she turns half about, and I see it is Teresa for certain. So I goes to her, for I had somethin’ to ask of her.”

“And what was that?”

“Something personal, it was,” said she and waited, testing the effect of that. When she realized that such an evasion would avail her nothing, she resumed: “It had to do with one of her gentleman friends kept coming around to the room asking for her at all hours.”

“What was his name? He must have given it.”

“I cannot remember, sir.”

“Yet you remembered it right enough when you went to Teresa O’Reilly after spying her in Duke’s Court.”

“P’rhaps. But I believe I meant to describe him only.”

“Then describe him to us.”

She sighed. “Well, he was younger than me, but not all that much. In size and shape he’s like that young sir who come with us to the Tower, him that’s sittin’ over there” — she pointed at me. “But I don’t mean it’s your young helper — ^just like him is all.”

“I am relieved,” said Sir John. (And so, reader, was I.)

“He wears his hair cropped short like an Irishman, though he ain’t one so far as I can tell from his talk. And his nose is bent a bit. That’s all I can tell you, sir.”

She had given a fair description of him whom I had dubbed the “bully-boy” and had met twice — in Drury Lane and Angel Court. I was sure that she must also know his name.

“Well enough, thank you,” said Sir John. “Now, you approached Teresa O’Reilly in Duke’s Court to complain about this fellow. And what did she say to you?”

“Not a thing, sir. As I come close, she winked her eye and nicked her head at me, as if to say, ‘Move along. Can’t talk now.’ And so that’s what I done. But as I was there, real close to them both, the soldier turned round and looked at me, and I at him.”

“Would you recognize him again?”

“I would, sir.”

“Would you say that Teresa O’Reilly and the soldier were in an acrimonious state?”

“Sir?”

“Were they arguing? Quarrelling?”

“Oh no, sir. I would say Teresa had found herself another gentleman friend.”

“And tell us what happened after your meeting in Duke’s Court. What, to put it direct, did you do then?”

“Why, I just wandered round a bit more. And then, when I was in New Broad Court, I heard the cry of ‘Murder!’ and a terrible commotion that followed. I went down the passage to see what was about, and when they pulled her out from under the stairs, I seen it was Teresa. I knowed it would be her, though I can’t say why.”

“What length of time passed between your meeting with Teresa O’Reilly and the soldier, and the moment you came down the passage and saw her dead?” Sir John asked this in a most severe manner, emphasizing the seriousness of the question.

“I can’t rightly say, sir. Such as me don’t have no timepiece.”

“But when we first talked. Mistress Pratt, you said you had seen the deceased ‘just before’ with a soldier who looked to be a Grenadier Guard.”

‘That’s right.”

“Well, how long was it? A short time? Did you go direct from Duke’s Court to New Broad Court and then hear the alarum, or did you stop someplace along the way?”

“Oh, I stopped. I popped into Shakespeare’s Head, which is a right respectable place. I make ever so many friends there.” Then she added in a reassuring way: “But I didn’t stay long.”

“I can see we have a difficulty on time,” said Sir John to the jury. “But we must get on with this.” Then to Mistress Pratt, who stood yet before him: “Do you see the man who was in the company of the deceased in this room? If so, please point him out.”

She turned and pointed at Private Sperling. “That’s him, at least I think it is. There was two soldiers, as you know, sir.”

“Indeed I do. That will be all, Mistress Pratt.” He conferred a moment with Mr. Marsden, then said he: “Let the record show that Mistress Pratt has pointed out Private Richard Sperling, Grenadier Guards.”

As she walked back to take her place beside Mr. Donnelly, Sir John turned back to the twelve seated on the front benches.

“This matter of two soldiers is easily explained,” said he to them. “In fact, when Mistress Pratt went to the Tower with me early this morning, she did pick out not one but two soldiers as possible candidates. This does not, however, impugn her as a witness, for the two are brothers, and I was told they bear a strong resemblance each to the other. I talked with one of them and satisfied myself for the time being. However, I shall take the opportunity now to confirm the story that I heard earlier from Corporal Otis Sperling with a Corporal Tigger.”

Corporal Tigger rose and stood ready to take his place before Sir John.

“Hold your place. Corporal. Sergeant? Are you here? Give your name, please.”

“I am here, sir,” said he, standing. “Silas Tupper, Sergeant, Grenadier Guards.”

“You may remain where you are, for I have but a question or two for you. Tell me this: Were you charged by Captain Conger to see that Corporal Tigger would say nothing of the matters before this coroner’s court to Private Sperling? That there would be no discussion of it between them at all?”

“I was, sir.”

“And did you carry out that charge?”

“I did. There was absolutely no talk of it at all, the entire time they were together.”

“Good, Sergeant. Thank you. You may be seated. And now. Corporal Tigger, please take your place before me.”

The cutlass he wore rattled a bit in its scabbard as he walked. That and the brace of pistols strapped at his waist made him a most impressive figure. He stated his name as John Tigger, Corporal, Grenadier Guards. Then, at Sir John’s request, he told essentially the same story we had heard from Corporal Sperling. The only difference I perceived was that he was able to be more specific as to the private’s tardy arrival. He said that he had looked at his own timepiece as Corporal Sperling went to meet and scold his brother there at the Coach House Inn, and it placed the younger Sperling’s coming at a quarter past the hour of five. He had remained with the two in the Coach House Inn until they boarded the coach and left for Hammersmith at half past six.

After dismissing Corporal Tigger, Sir John summoned Richard Sperling as witness. The young private slumped pathetically as he walked up to take his place and looked quite like he had already been convicted and condemned. He managed, however, to pull himself erect in more soldierly fashion once he had arrived. He stated his name and rank and gave his age as nineteen.

“Private Sperling,” said Sir John, “I fear you must tell us how you spent the two hours, perhaps a little less, between leaving your brother and Corporal Tigger at the Cheshire Cheese and rejoining them at the Coach House Inn.’

“Yes, sir,” said he, his voice so strained that it was barely audible.

“Speak up, young man. Proceed.”

“Yes, sir, I shall.” He cleared his throat.

The members of the jury had now assumed those same attitudes of intense concentration they had adopted earlier in listening to Mr. Donnelly’s testimony.

“I left them there, as you say, and hied off swift to the streets surrounding Covent Garden,” said he. “Once there I did but wander, searching, putting myself in the way of temptation.”

“And what were you searching for?” put in Sir John. “How did you wish to be tempted?”

“I wished the temptation of the flesh. I was searching for a woman.”

“Well, there are a plenty of them hereabouts and a good many available for the purpose you seemed to have in mind.”

“I know that, sir, and that was the why of my coming here.” He looked down, but his voice held steady as he continued: “I… I had never been with a woman in that way, and I had come to be ashamed of it, thinking myself less than a man. I had made up my mind to change that, and I thought the time I had before the coach left would be enough to do what needed to be done. Yet once here in these streets, seeing the worn, hard look of those women who made themselves available; thinking of the possibility of disease, probability p’rhaps; remembering my Christian childhood — I found it hard to proceed with my plan. I went into a place and had an ale to steady myself.”

“What was the place?” asked Sir John.

“I do not remember, sir, I truly don’t, though perhaps I could find it if — ”

“Never mind. Continue.”

“Very well. But upon leaving the ale house, I was engaged in conversation by a woman. It may have been in Duke’s Court. If that woman there says so, I will accept that. In any case, she gave her name as Teresa, and … I liked her. She was a big woman, Irish, and she seemed to understand my problem. There was something motherly about her — not like my mother, you understand, but …”

“I do understand. Continue.”

“I… consented to go with her, and she took me to a place in Angel Court, right enough, a filthy place — a straw mattress, a chair, nothing more. My time there was short. I…” He hesitated, looking for the right words. “I failed in what I set out to do. She was understanding, though she would not give back my money.”

There and only then a few of the men on the jury began to snigger. They were hushed by their fellows. Sir John felt no need to call for order.

“And so I left. I left quickly, thinking I must be late — and of course I was. We had to catch the next coach to Hammersmith, which made us more than an hour late to the party for my brother. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I went with that woman. But please believe me, sir, for I swear by the Almighty and all that is holy, I did not kill her!’

He was near panting with emotion. His eyes glistened with tears.