John Carr - The Plague Court Murders

Q. Lady Benning, how long have you known Mr. Darworth?

A. I really can't say. Does it matter? Eight months, possibly a year.

Q. How did you come to make his acquaintance?

A. Through Mr. Theodore Latimer, if it matters. He told me of Mr. Darworth's interest in the occult, and brought him to see me at my home.

Q. Yes. And we understand that you'd been in what we'll call a receptive state for that sort of thing. Is that correct, Lady Benning?

A. My dear man, I am not going to answer mere impertinences.

Q. Just so. Did you know anything about Darworth?

A. I knew, for instance, that he was a gentleman, and well-bred.

Q. I mean, anything about his past life?

A. No.

Q. Did he tell you, in fact, something like this: That, though he was, not a medium himself, he was intensely psychic; that he felt you had suffered a great bereavement, and influences were trying to get in touch with you; that he was the patron of a medium who he thought could help you? Did he, Lady Benning?

A. (A long hesitation) Yes. But not at first, not for a long time. He was very sympathetic about James.

Q. And a meeting with the medium was arranged? A. Yes.

Q. Where?

A. At Mr. Darworth's house in Charles Street.

Q. Were there many such meetings afterwards?

A. Many. (Here the witness began to show discomposure).

Q. Where, Lady Benning, you `got through' - so to speak - to Mr. James Halliday?

A. For God's sake, will you stop torturing me!

Q. Sorry. You understand, ma'am, I have to do this. Did Mr. Darworth join the circle?

A. Rarely. He said it disturbed him.

Q. So that he was not in the room at all?

A. No.

Q. Did you know anything about the medium?

A. No. (Hesitation). Except that he was not altogether of sound mind. Mr. Darworth had discussed his

case with the doctor in charge of the London League of Mercy for the mentally deficient. He told me how highly the doctor had praised James, and how much they thought of him. James used to send £50 yearly to the League. Mr. Darworth said it was only a small piece of thoughtfulness, but it was wonderful.

Q. Just so. You made no inquiries about Mr. Darworth?

A. No.

Q. Ever give him money? No reply.

Q. Was it a great deal of money, Lady Benning?

A. My dear man, surely even you must have the intelligence to see that it is none of your business.

Q. Who first suggested that Plague Court should be exorcised?

A. (The witness spoke very strongly). My nephew James.

Q. I mean, who- Let's say, among people who can be called more easily as witnesses, who first put the

suggestion into audible English?

A. Thank you so much for the correction. It was I.

Q. What did Mr. Darworth think of it?

A. He did not wish to do it at first.

Q. But you convinced him?

A. (The witness made no reply, but used the words 'or said he didn't,' as though to herself).

Q. Does the name `Elsie Fenwick' mean anything to you, Lady Benning?

A. No.

This dialogue, as I remember it, contained nothing more than is set down in Masters' notes. She had not rambled or digressed, even when she faltered; and she had definitely had the better of the exchange. Masters, I think, was coolly angry. When he said, "Now we come to tonight-" I expected on her part a quick watchfulness or tension.' Nothing of the sort happened.

Q. In this room a while ago, Lady Benning, after Mr. Blake had been speaking to Joseph Dennis, you made use of the expression, `Come into the front room, you, and ask which one of us killed Roger Darworth?'

A. Yes.

Q. What did you mean by it?

A. Did you ever hear of sarcasm, sergeant? I simply supposed the police would be fools enough to think so.

Q. But you don't think so?

A. Think what?

Q. Frankly, that one of the five people in the front room murdered Mr. Darworth?

A. No.

Q. Will you please tell us, Lady Benning, what happened after the five of you closed the door and retired for your (a word erased and substituted in the notes) prayers?

A. Nothing happened, in a psychic sense. We did not form a circle. We sat round the fireplace, and sat or knelt as we chose.

Q. Was it too dark for you to see anybody?

A. I dare say. The fire had gone out. I really did not notice.

Q. Not notice?

A. Oh, go away, you fool. My mind was on other things. Do you know what prayer is? Real prayer? If you did, you wouldn't ask stupid questions.

Q. Just so. You didn't hear anything at all, then-a chair creaking - a door opening-somebody getting up - for example?

A. No.

Q. You are sure?

No reply.

Q. Did anyone speak between the time this, this vigil began and the time you heard the bell ringing?

A. I heard nothing at all.

Q. But you are not prepared to swear there was nothing of the kind?

A. I am not prepared to swear anything, sergeant. Not just yet.

Q. Very well, Lady Benning. Then at lease you will tell us this: How were you sitting? I mean, what was the order of chairs in which you sat?

A. (Here were some protestations and denials). Well, I was on the extreme right of the fireplace. My nephew Dean was next to me, and then I think Miss Latimer. The others I am not sure of.

Q. Do you know of anybody, any living person, who wished to do Mr. Darworth harm?

A. No.

Q. Do you think he was a fake?

A. Possibly. It in no way affects the truth of the Truth.

Q. Do you still deny that you gave him money?

A. I don't think I've denied anything of the sort. (Very bitterly and suddenly). If I had, do you think

I should be such a fool as to admit it?

She seemed to feel triumphant as Masters let her go; Major Featherton was summoned to give her his arm back to the front room. Masters made no comment, and his face was inscrutable. He asked next for Ted Latimer.

Ted made a different sort of witness. He sauntered in with a defiant superciliousness, and tried to rattle Masters with a scrutiny f this sort: which only succeeded in making Ted look slightly drunk. Masters let him look, pretending to be mulling over his notes.. During the silence, Ted scraped his chair noisily before sitting down; frowned, and appeared to grow conscious of his grimy face. Though he tried to keep his aloof disdain, he grew rather verbose in his testimony, wherein deleted parts are indicated with dots.

Q. How long have you known Mr. Darworth?

A. Oh, a year, more or less. It was through our mutual interest in modern art. D'you know the Cadroc galleries in Bond Street, Inspector? Well, it was there.

Leon Dufour had been exhibiting some rather fine things in soap-

Q. In what?

A. (The witness showed amusement,- and grew more at ease). That's right, Inspector; I said soap. Sculpture,, you know. Mr. Darworth preferred and bought some more massive library-pieces in rock-salt. I admit they had life, but they lacked Dufour's delicacy of line....

Q. Now, come, Mr. Latimer; I'm afraid we're not interested in all that kind of thing. Lady Benning's told us about making Mr. Darworth's, acquaintance, and what happened then. I suppose you got to be pretty good friends?

A. I found him very interesting. A cultured man of the world, Inspector, such as we rarely find in England. He had studied under Dr. Adler, of Vienna - you know of him, of course? - and was himself a proficient psychiatrist. Of course, as one man of the world to another, we had many interesting talks.

Q. Know anything about his past life?

A. Not much that I remember. (Hesitation). At one time, though, I was very much in love with a young lady in Chelsea, and, ah, certain inhibitions were preventing me from making her my mistress. Mr. Darworth straightened out my difficulties, explaining that this was a fear complex due to her resemblance to a governess I had once had in childhood ... which adjusted my mind, and for some months afterward she and I were successfully adjusted.... But I remember Mr. Darworth mentioned he had once had a wife, now dead, with whom he had experienced a similar difficulty....

There was much more piffle of this description, in which Ted enjoyed himself and Masters was obviously shocked. No further facts were elicited. The whole affair, however, tended to make Ted more and more. kindly disposed towards Masters; growing, in fact, almost paternal.

Q. You introduced Mr. Darworth to your sister?

A. Oh, yes. Right away.

Q. Did she like him?

A. (Hesitation). Yes; she seemed to. Quite a lot. Of course, Inspector, Marion's a strange kid; not quite developed, if you understand me. thought he would do her good, explaining her own emotions to her.

Q. Urn, just so. Did you introduce him to Mr. Halliday?

A. You mean Dean? Oh, Marion did; or Lady Benning. I forget which.

Q. Did they get on well together?

A. Well, no. You see, Dean's a very good fellow, but he's a little pre-war and (N.B. I think the word here is bourgeois, although it is strangely spelled in Masters' account).

Q. But was there any definite trouble?

A. I don't know whether you'd call it trouble exactly. Dean told him one night that he had a mind to smash his face and hang him on the chandelier for luck. You see, it was hard to quarrel with old Darworth. He wouldn't take fire. Sometimes, confound him!

Pauses and mutterings; witness pressed to go on.

A.Well, all I can say is that I should like to have seen that fight. Dean's the fastest amateur middleweight I ever watched. I saw him flatten Tom Rutger....

This sudden splash f honesty, I could see, brought the young man up in Masters' estimation. The questioning went on rapidly. Darworth, it seemed, had plunged almost at once into occult matters. At Joseph's first seance there was mention of the uneasy ghost' at Plague Court, and the spiritual agonies of James Halliday. When this was mentioned to Darworth, he had grown more interested and disturbed; had many long conferences with Marion Latimer and Lady Benning, "especially Marion"; had

borrowed Halliday's account in the form of the Playge letters; and, at the insistence of Lady Benning, the experiment was to be tried. Perhaps Masters made a mistake in dwelling too long on this. In any event, Ted had time to work himself into his old state of fanaticism. What loomed always larger, and swelled and assumed monstrous shapes, was the smiling figure f Darworth. It mocked us after death. We felt and fought, but could not break, the uncanny power he had exercised over these people: the grim old woman with her spites and dreams, the unstable young man sitting in the chair and glaring back at Masters.

The struggle grew, as question after question was flung at him. On one point, that boy was definitely mad. He rubbed his grimy face, he struck the arm of the chair; sometimes he laughed and sometimes he almost sobbed; as though it were Darworth who was the true ghost, standing at his elbow and prodding him to hysteria, in those chill hours before dawn. Masters was calling for full stage-thunder now.

Q. Very well! If you don't believe Darworth was killed by a human being, what have you to say to Joseph Dennis' statement that Darworth did fear somebody here - in this house - feared harm?

A. I say it's a damned lie. Are you going to take the word of a damned drug-addict?

Q. So you knew he was a drug-addict, did you?

A. I thought he might be.

Q. And you still believed in him?

A. What difference does that make? It didn't affect his psychic powers. Can't you see anything? A painter or composer doesn't lose his genius because of drugs or alcohol. God damn it, are you blind? It's just the opposite.

Q. Steady, sir. Do you deny that one of the people in that front room might have got up and gone out while you were all in the dark. Do you deny it? A. Yes!