XII
In Wandsworth Jail
Charles Garrett, admirable journalist, had written the last line of a humorous description of a local concert at which a cabinet minister had sung pathetic ballads. Charles wrote with difficulty, for the situation had been of itself so funny, that extracting its hidden humours was a more than ordinarily heartbreaking thing. But he had finished and the thick batch of copy lay on the chief subeditorвАЩs deskвБ†вАФCharles wrote on an average six words to a folio, and a half a column story from his pen bulked like a three-volume novel.
Charles stopped to threaten an office-boy who had misdirected a letter, strolled into various quiet offices to вАЬsee who was thereвАЭ and with his raincoat on his arm, and his stick in his hand, stopped at the end of his wanderings before the chattering tape machine. He looked through the glass box that shielded the mechanism, and was interested in a message from Tehran in the course of transmission.
вАЬвА¶¬†at early date. Grand Vizier has informed Exchange Correspondent that the construction of line will be pushed forwardвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
The tape stopped its stuttering and buzzed excitedly, then came a succession of quick jerks that cleared away the uncompleted message.
Then вАЬвА¶¬†the leader of the Four Just Men was arrested in London tonight,вАЭ said the tape, and Charles broke for the editorвАЩs room.
He flung open the door without ceremony, and repeated the story the little machine had told.
The grey chief received the news quietly, and the orders he gave in the next five minutes inconvenienced some twenty or thirty unoffending people.
The constructions of the вАЬstoryвАЭ of the Four Just Men, began at the lower rung of the intellectual ladder.
вАЬYou boy! get half a dozen taxicabs here quick.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Poynter, phone the reporters inвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАК, get the Lambs Club on the phone and see if OвАЩMahony or any other of our bright youths are there.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ There are five columns about the Four Just Men standing in the gallery, get it pulled up, Mr.¬†ShortвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ picturesвБ†вАФhвАЩmвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ yet wire Massonni to get down to the police station and see if he can find a policeman whoвАЩll give him material for a sketch.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Off you go, Charles, and get the story.вАЭ
There was no flurry, no rush; it was for all the world like the scene on a modern battleship when вАЬclear lower deck for actionвАЭ had sounded. Two hours to get the story into the paper was ample, and there was no need for the whip.
Later, with the remorseless hands of the clock moving on, taxi after taxi flew up to the great newspaper office, discharging alert young men who literally leapt into the building. Later, with waiting operators sitting tensely before the keyboards of the linotypes, came Charles Garrett doing notable things with a stump of pencil and a ream of thin copy paper.
It was the Megaphone that shone splendidly amidst its journalistic fellows, with pagesвБ†вАФI quote the envenomed opinion of the news editor of the MercuryвБ†вАФthat вАЬshouted like the checks on a bookmakerвАЩs waistcoat.вАЭ
It was the Megaphone that fed the fires of public interest, and was mainly responsible for the huge crowds that gathered outside Greenwich Police Court, and overflowed in dense masses to the foot of Blackheath Hill, whilst Manfred underwent his preliminary inquiries.
вАЬGeorge Manfred, aged thirty-nine, of no occupation, residing at Hill Crest Lodge, St.¬†JohnвАЩs.вАЭ In this prosaic manner he was introduced to the world.
He made a striking figure in the steel-railed dock. A chair was placed for him, and he was guarded as few prisoners had been guarded. A special cell had been prepared for his reception, and departing from established custom, extra warders were detailed to watch him. Falmouth took no risks.
The charge that had been framed had to do with no well-known case. Many years before, one Samuel Lipski, a notorious East End sweater, had been found dead with the stereotyped announcement that he had fallen to the justice of the Four. Upon this the Treasury founded its case for the prosecutionвБ†вАФa case which had been very thoroughly and convincingly prepared, and pigeonholed against such time as arrest should overtake one or the other of the Four Just Men.
Reading over the thousands of newspaper cuttings dealing with the preliminary examination and trial of Manfred, I am struck with the absence of any startling feature, such as one might expect to find in a great state trial of this description. Summarizing the evidence that was given at the police court, one might arrange the вАЬpartsвАЭ of the dozen or so commonplace witnesses so that they read:
A policeman: вАЬI found the body.вАЭ
An inspector: вАЬI read the label.вАЭ
A doctor: вАЬI pronounced him dead.вАЭ
An only man with a slight squint and broken English: вАЬThis man Lipski, I known him, he were a goot man and make the business wit the head, ker-vick.вАЭ
And the like.
Manfred refused to plead вАЬguiltyвАЭ or вАЬnot guilty.вАЭ He spoke only once during the police court proceedings, and then only when the formal question had been put to him.
вАЬI am prepared to abide by the result of my trial,вАЭ he said clearly, вАЬand it cannot matter much one way or the other whether I plead вАШguiltyвАЩ or вАШnot guilty.вАЩвАКвАЭ
вАЬI will enter your plea as вАШnot guilty,вАЩвАКвАЭ said the magistrate.
Manfred bowed.
вАЬThat is at your worshipвАЩs discretion,вАЭ he said.
On the seventh of June he was formally committed for trial. He had a short interview with Falmouth before he was removed from the police-court cells.
Falmouth would have found it difficult to analyse his feelings towards this man. He scarcely knew himself whether he was glad or sorry that fate had thrown the redoubtable leader into his hands.
His attitude to Manfred was that of a subordinate to a superior, and that attitude he would have found hardest to explain.
When the cell door was opened to admit the detective, Manfred was reading. He rose with a cheery smile to greet his visitor.
вАЬWell, Mr.¬†Falmouth,вАЭ he said lightly, вАЬwe enter upon the second and more serious act of the drama.вАЭ
вАЬI donвАЩt know whether IвАЩm glad or sorry,вАЭ said Falmouth bluntly.
вАЬYou ought to be glad,вАЭ said Manfred with his quizzical smile. вАЬFor youвАЩve vindicatedвБ†вАФвАЭ
вАЬYes, I know all about that,вАЭ said Falmouth dryly, вАЬbut itвАЩs the other part I hate.вАЭ
вАЬYou meanвБ†вАФ?вАЭ
Manfred did not complete the question.
вАЬI doвБ†вАФitвАЩs a hanging job, Mr.¬†Manfred, and that is the hateful business after the wonderful work youвАЩve done for the country.вАЭ
Manfred threw back his head, and laughed in unrestrained amusement.
вАЬOh, itвАЩs nothing to laugh about,вАЭ said the plainspoken detective, вАЬyou are against a bad propositionвБ†вАФthe Home Secretary is a cousin of RamonвАЩs, and he hates the very name of the Four Just Men.вАЭ
вАЬYet I may laugh,вАЭ said Manfred calmly, вАЬfor I shall escape.вАЭ
There was no boastfulness in the speech, but a quiet assurance that had the effect of nettling the other.
вАЬOh, you will, will you?вАЭ he said grimly. вАЬWell, we shall see.вАЭ
There was no escape for Manfred in the dozen yards or so between his cell door and the prison van. He was manacled to two warders, and a double line of policemen formed an avenue through which he was marched. Not from the van itself that moved in a solid phalanx of mounted men with drawn swords. Nor from the gloomy portals of Wandsworth Gaol where silent, uniformed men closed round him and took him to the triple-locked cell.
Once in the night, as he slept, he was awakened by the sound of the changing guard, and this amused him.
If one had the space to write, one could compile a whole book concerning ManfredвАЩs life during the weeks he lay in gaol awaiting trial. He had his visitors. Unusual laxity was allowed in this respect. Falmouth hoped to find the other two men. He generously confessed his hope to Manfred.
вАЬYou may make your mind easy on that point,вАЭ said Manfred; вАЬthey will not come.вАЭ
Falmouth believed him.
вАЬIf you were an ordinary criminal, Mr.¬†Manfred,вАЭ he said smilingly, вАЬI should hint the possibilities of KingвАЩs evidence, but I wonвАЩt insult you.вАЭ
ManfredвАЩs reply staggered him.
вАЬOf course not,вАЭ he said with an air of innocence; вАЬif they were arrested, who on earth would arrange my escape?вАЭ
The Woman of Gratz did not come to see him, and he was glad.
He had his daily visits from the governor, and found him charmingly agreeable. They talked of countries known to both, of people whom each knew equally well, and tacitly avoided forbidden subjects. OnlyвБ†вАФ
вАЬI hear you are going to escape?вАЭ said the governor, as he concluded one of these visits. He was a largely built man, sometime Major of Marine Artillery, and he took life seriously. Therefore he did not share FalmouthвАЩs view of the projected escape as being an ill-timed jest.
вАЬYes,вАЭ replied Manfred.
вАЬFrom here?вАЭ
Manfred shook his head solemnly.
вАЬThe details have not yet been arranged,вАЭ he said with admirable gravity. The governor frowned.
вАЬI donвАЩt believe youвАЩre trying to pull my legвБ†вАФitвАЩs too devilishly serious a matter to joke aboutвБ†вАФbut it would be an awkward thing for me if you got away.вАЭ He was of the prisonerвАЩs own caste and he had supreme faith in the word of the man who discussed prison-breaking so lightheartedly.
вАЬThat I realize,вАЭ said Manfred with a little show of deference, вАЬand I shall accordingly arrange my plans, so that the blame shall be equally distributed.вАЭ
The governor, still frowning thoughtfully, left the cell. He came back in a few minutes.
вАЬBy the way, Manfred,вАЭ he said, вАЬI forgot to tell you that youвАЩll get a visit from the chaplain. HeвАЩs a very decent young fellow, and I know I neednвАЩt ask you to let him down lightly.вАЭ
With this subtle assumption of mutual paganism, he left finally.
вАЬThat is a worthy gentleman,вАЭ thought Manfred.
The chaplain was nervously anxious to secure an opening, and sought amidst the trivialities that led out of the conventional exchange of greetings a fissure for the insertion of a tactful inquiry.
Manfred, seeing his embarrassment, gave him the chance, and listened respectfully while the young man talked, earnestly, sincerely, manfully.
вАЬNвБ†вАФno,вАЭ said the prisoner after a while, вАЬI donвАЩt think, Mr.¬†Summers, that you and I hold very different opinions, if they were all reduced to questions of faith and appreciation of GodвАЩs goodnessвБ†вАФbut I have got to a stage where I shrink from labelling my inmost beliefs with this or that creed, or circumscribing the boundless limits of my faith with words. I know you will forgive me and believe that I do not say this from any desire to hurt you, but I have reached, too, a phase of conviction where I am adamant to outside influence. For good or ill, I must stand by the conceptions that I have built out of my own life and its teachings.
вАЬThere is another, and a more practical reason,вАЭ he added, вАЬwhy I should not do you or any other chaplain the disservice of taking up your timeвБ†вАФI have no intention of dying.вАЭ
With this, the young minister was forced to be content. He met Manfred frequently, talking of books and people and of strange religions.
To the warders and those about him, Manfred was a source of constant wonder. He never wearied them with the recital of his coming attempt. Yet all that he said and did seemed founded on that one basic article of faith: I shall escape.
The governor took every precaution to guard against rescue. He applied for and secured reinforcements of warders, and Manfred, one morning at exercise seeing strange faces amongst his guards, bantered him with over-nervousness.
вАЬYes,вАЭ said the Major, вАЬIвАЩve doubled the staff. IвАЩm taking you at your word, that is allвБ†вАФone must cling tight to the last lingering shreds of faith one has in mankind. You say that youвАЩre going to escape, and I believe you.вАЭ He thought a moment, вАЬIвАЩve studied you,вАЭ he added.
вАЬIndeed?вАЭ
вАЬNot here,вАЭ said the governor, comprehending the prison in a sweep of his hand, вАЬbut outsideвБ†вАФread about you and thought about you and a little dimly understood youвБ†вАФthat makes me certain that youвАЩve got something at the back of your mind when you talk so easily of escape.вАЭ
Manfred nodded. He nodded many times thoughtfully, and felt a new interest in the bluff, brusque man.
вАЬAnd whilst IвАЩm doubling the guard and that sort of thing, I know in my heart that that вАШsomethingвАЩ of yours isnвАЩt вАШsomethingвАЩ with dynamite in it, or вАШsomethingвАЩ with brute force behind it, but itвАЩs вАШsomethingвАЩ thatвАЩs devilishly deepвБ†вАФthatвАЩs how I read it.вАЭ
He jerked his head in farewell, and the cell door closed behind him with a great jangling and snapping of keys.
He might have been tried at the sessions following his committal, but the Crown applied for a postponement, and being informed and asked whether he would care to raise any objection to that course, he replied that so far from objecting, he was grateful, because his arrangements were not yet completed, and when they asked him, knowing that he had refused solicitor and counsel, what arrangements he referred to, he smiled enigmatically and they knew he was thinking of this wonderful plan of escape. That such persistent assurances of delivery should eventually reach the public through the public press was only to be expected, and although вАЬManfred says he will escape from WandsworthвАЭ in the Megaphone headline, became вАЬA prisonerвАЩs strange statementвАЭ in the Times, the substance of the story was the same, and you may be sure that it lost nothing in the telling. A Sunday journal, with a waning circulation, rallied on the discovery that Manfred was mad, and published a column-long account of this вАЬpoor lunatic gibbering of freedom.вАЭ
Being allowed to read the newspapers, Manfred saw this, and it kept him amused for a whole day.
The warders in personal attendance on him were changed daily, he never had the same custodian twice till the governor saw a flaw in the method that allowed a warder with whom he was only slightly acquainted, and of whose integrity he was ignorant, to come into close contact with his prisoner. Particularly did this danger threaten from the new officers who had been drafted to Wandsworth to reinforce the staff, and the governor went to the other extreme, and two trusted men, who had grown old in the service, were chosen for permanent watchdogs.
вАЬYou wonвАЩt be able to have any more newspapers,вАЭ said the governor one morning. вАЬIвАЩve had orders from headquartersвБ†вАФthere have been some suspicious-looking вАШagoniesвАЩ in the Megaphone this last day or so.вАЭ
вАЬI did not insert them,вАЭ said Manfred, smiling.
вАЬNoвБ†вАФbut you may have read them,вАЭ said the governor dryly.
вАЬSo I might have,вАЭ said the thoughtful Manfred.
вАЬDid you?вАЭ
Manfred made no reply.
вАЬI suppose that isnвАЩt a fair question,вАЭ said the governor cheerfully; вАЬanyhow, no more papers. You can have booksвБ†вАФany books you wish within limits.вАЭ
So Manfred was denied the pleasure of reading the little paragraphs that described the movements and doings of the fashionable world. Just then these interested him more than the rest of the newspaper put together. Such news as he secured was of a negative kind and through the governor.
вАЬAm I still mad?вАЭ he asked.
вАЬNo.вАЭ
вАЬWas I born in BrittanyвБ†вАФthe son of humble parents?вАЭ
вАЬNoвБ†вАФthereвАЩs another theory now.вАЭ
вАЬIs my real name still supposed to be Isadore something-or-other?вАЭ
вАЬYou are now a member of a noble family, disappointed at an early age by a reigning princess,вАЭ said the governor impressively.
вАЬHow romantic!вАЭ said Manfred in hushed tones.
The gravity of his years, that was beyond his years, fell away from him in that time of waiting. He became almost boyish again. He had a never-ending fund of humour that turned even the tremendous issues of his trial into subject-matter of amusement.
Armed with the authority of the Home-Secretary came Luigi Fressini, the youthful director of the Anthropological Institute of Rome.
Manfred agreed to see him and made him as welcome as the circumstances permitted. Fressini was a little impressed with his own importance, and had the professional manner strongly developed. He had a perky way of dropping his head on one side when he made observations, and reminded Manfred of a horse-dealer blessed with a little knowledge, but anxious to discover at all hazards the вАЬpointsвАЭ that fitted in with his preconceived theories.
вАЬI would like to measure your head,вАЭ he said.
вАЬIвАЩm afraid I cannot oblige you,вАЭ said Manfred coolly; вАЬpartly because I object to the annoyance of it, and partly because headmeasuring in anthropology is as much out of date as bloodletting in surgery.вАЭ
The director was on his dignity.
вАЬIвАЩm afraid I cannot take lessons in the scienceвБ†вАФвАЭ he began.
вАЬOh, yes, you can,вАЭ said Manfred, вАЬand youвАЩd be a greater man if you did. As it is Antonio de Costa and Felix Hedeman are both beating you on your own groundвБ†вАФthat monograph of yours on Cerebral Dynamics was awful nonsense.вАЭ
Whereupon Fressini went very red and spluttered and left the cell, afterwards in his indiscretion granting an interview to an evening newspaper, in the course of which he described Manfred as a typical homicide with those peculiarities of parietal development, that are invariably associated with cold-blooded murderers. For publishing what constituted a gross contempt of court, the newspaper was heavily fined, and at the instance of the British Government, Fressini was reprimanded, and eventually superseded by that very De Costa of whom Manfred spoke.
All these happenings formed the comedy of the long wait, and as to the tragedy, there was none.
A week before the trial Manfred, in the course of conversation, expressed a desire for a further supply of books.
вАЬWhat do you want?вАЭ asked the governor, and prepared to take a note.
вАЬOh, anything,вАЭ said Manfred lazilyвБ†вАФвАЬtravel, biography, science, sportвБ†вАФanything new thatвАЩs going.вАЭ
вАЬIвАЩll get you a list,вАЭ said the governor, who was not a booky man. вАЬThe only travel books I know are those two new things, Three Months in Morocco and Through the Ituri Forest. One of themвАЩs by a new man, Theodore MaxвБ†вАФdo you know him?вАЭ
Manfred shook his head.
вАЬBut IвАЩll try them,вАЭ he said.
вАЬIsnвАЩt it about time you started to prepare your defence?вАЭ the governor asked gruffly.
вАЬI have no defence to offer,вАЭ said Manfred, вАЬtherefore no defence to prepare.вАЭ
The governor seemed vexed.
вАЬIsnвАЩt life sufficiently sweet to youвБ†вАФto urge you to make an effort to save it?вАЭ he asked roughly, вАЬor are you going to give it up without a struggle?вАЭ
вАЬI shall escape,вАЭ said Manfred again; вАЬarenвАЩt you tired of hearing me tell you why I make no effort to save myself?вАЭ
вАЬWhen the newspapers start the вАШmadвАЩ theory again,вАЭ said the exasperated prison official, вАЬI shall feel most inclined to break the regulations and write a letter in support of the speculation.вАЭ
вАЬDo,вАЭ said Manfred cheerfully, вАЬand tell them that I run round my cell on all fours biting visitorsвАЩ legs.вАЭ
The next day the books arrived. The mysteries of the Ituri Forest remained mysteries, but Three Months in Morocco (big print, wide margins, 12s. 6d.) he read with avidity from cover to cover, notwithstanding the fact that the reviewers to a man condemned it as being the dullest book of the season. Which was an unkindly reflection upon the literary merits of its author, Leon Gonsalez, who had worked early and late to prepare the book for the press, writing far into the night, whilst Poiccart, sitting at the other side of the table, corrected the damp proofs as they came from the printer.