It is dark in the bush

New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 147, 17 April 1942, Page 24

It is dark in the bush

By

J. E.

MARTEN

SYNOPSIS Three students discover the body of James Collins on a tree in backblocks bush. The inquest reveals that Collins died of iuminal poisoning, and the body was afterwards hanged. Graham 1s arrested, evidence against him being that as Charles Preston he suffered a heavy jail sentence in Australia for a crime for which his secretary, Peter Langley, alias Collins, was responsible, and that he is known to have bought luminal soon after reaching New Zealand. Mrs. Marsden confesses to Judith that she saw Preston in the clearing on the afternoon of the murder. Preston tells his lawyer that a week before the murder, Langley came to Murray’s house, Te Rata, and meeting Preston, attempted to blackmail him. . Preston, after several days’ hesitation, goes up to Langley’s shack with the money and finds him already dead. There is an empty bottle of luminal on the- table. Realising he will be suspected of murder, he drags the body into the bush and hangs it, hoping that in the event of its discovery, Langley will be presumed to have killed himself. Preston begs David to recover from the shanty Langley’s papers, giving the full history of his blackmail victims, one of whom is probably the murderer. He reaches the shanty too late-the papers are gone. But there is someone else in the shanty. There is a struggle, but the figure escapes. David is sure it is George Murray. Morgan doubts whether there is_ sufficient evidence to arrest Murray, but agrees with David that Judith’s hasty decision to marry John Murray may mean that she has suspicions of his uncle’s guilt. If George Murray is guilty, he will probably wait till a verdict of "guilty" is brought against Preston before giving himself up. 6 * Ann admits that the first day of the has gone unfavourably for Preston. CHAPTER XXV.-(Cont’d.) ie AVID met her quiet courage with miserable eyes but the honesty it deserved. "Yes, I felt like th@t too. But it’s too soon to form any oj§nion yet, Ann, far too soon. We mustn’t let ourselves be carried away by our own fears or our own nerves." "Oh no, I don’t mean to," she replied quietly. "I’m not a bit afraid of going into the box or of the Crown Prosecutor or the Judge. I’m longing to give my evidence, to make them believe that my father is innocent. I mean to fight every single step of the way." There was dead silence after she had spoken, but every heart in the room went out to the girl. They looked at each other in a sort of surprise. Was this the Ann who, a few short weeks ago, had been a clinging child? There was a warm glow of admiration on every face in the crowded little room, but it was old George Murray who voiced the general opinion. " Well said, my dear. I like your spirit, and so do we all. And don’t forget that you’ve got us all behind you, all, to a man. We’ve all come here to fight, and to fight on your side. Between us, we mean to prove your father an innocent man." As he went out into the street David felt his head in a. whirl. "We're all fighting on your side.’ Could these really be the words of a man who all the time was hiding behind the girl’s unfortunate father? CHAPTER XXVI. But in spite of all the loyalty, all the determined optimism of the little group from Te Rata, it was impossible to pretend that the case did not look very black indeed as the trial unfolded. The prosecution followed precisely the lines that Ashton and Morgan had led them

to expect, and it seemed as though the evidence of even the first day had drawn up a damning enough indictment against Preston. But the second day gave the public the full story of the prisoner’s previous connection with Langley, and the old scandal of the Preston Syndicate, with the account of Langley’s treachery and the cunning that had got him off scotfree while his employer went to gaol. When the case closed at the end of the second day, the Crown Prosecutor had the appearance of a satisfied man; there was a dreadful air of finality and irrefutability about the evidence. Everything the Prosecution wanted was thére -motive abundant and to spare, presence at the actual scene of the crime as. testified by the drover who had seen Preston crossing the’ yard; the very poison in his possession that had killed his victim. Worst of all, there was the damning evidence of the prisoner’s own lies in his first statement, the positive denial of his knowledge of Langley’s presence in the neighbourhood, of his own visit to the cottage, all later to be succeeded by a fresh story so fantastic that it seemed as if no sane man could put it forward as a defence. David left the court with a dreadful conviction that only a miracle could save Preston’s life, and he read the same fear reflected in the faces of the silent group gathered in the hotel sitting-room. They had ceased to pretend to an optimism that no sane man could feel, and even Judith was nervous and apprehensive. To his surprise it was Ann who took the initiative. "Do you think," she asked George Murray with a wistful sweetness, "that I could have some tea-I don’t want din-ner-sent up to my room? I would: like to go to bed, and I know that it will be much easier for you all to talk freely when I’m not here. There’s that sleeping draught David has given me, you know; I shall take it quite soon and have a good night’s sleep and save up for tomorrow. . . . And don’t worry too much about me, David dear. After all, they didn’t tell us anything new and they jnaven’t heard our side yet. I’m not going to despair and you mustn’t." The memory of her gallant little face made David clench his hands when her name was called next day and she. left him to go into the box. For the first few minutes he dared not glance at her, until he realised from the quiet steadiness of her voice that he was more nervous than she. When he had the courage to look towards her, he was amazed at her calmness, and her youth and beauty smote him afresh with a dreadful pang. Was all this to be sacrificed in the cause of a father she hardly knew? At least: she was parting sup a splendid fight, for she showed nd sign

of faltering, and it was clear that her beauty and her pitiful youth had made an appeal that not even the stolid jury could entirely resist. Ashton handled her cleverly, soothing her nerves, bringing out all the convincing simplicity of her story, letting no point escape the row of attentive jurymen. When he sat down at last there was a momentary gléam of self-satisfac-tion in his deep-set eyes. This witness, of whom he had been a trifle nervous, had done her part spendidly. If only her father, who had elected to go into the box, should prove equally steady and dependable! Nor did the Crown Prosecutor seek to upset the effect she had made. He was too decent a man, too clever an advocate to prejudice his case by the shadow of an attempt to bully a young girl placed in such a tragic position. He questioned her as to her father’s reasons for making for the coast, his irritation over the delay, the routes he had chosen. In no case was he able to shake her clear testimony of accident and coincidence. Cleverly enough, he contented himself with a certain indulgent handling of the witness, a gentle but deprecating kindness that suggested, with something too sympathetic for a shrug, that the court must not pay too much attention to the evidence, however honestly given, of a young girl in defence of her father’s life and honour. When at last Ann came back to her seat, a little sigh of emotional excitement rose involuntarily from _ the crowded court, and David surprised a pitying softness in the face of several of the jurymen. But it was only pity, not conviction. The Crown Prosecutor’s tolerant kindness had done its work far better than any hostile cross-examina-tion. As the girl slipped into her place between himself and George Murray, David could feel her trembling, and secretly, under cover of a movement in the court, he took her cold little hand in his and pressed it hurriedly. "Magnificent!" he whispered. "You were a lion of courage." She managed a trembling smile at the inaptness of the metaphor, and at once their attention was focused on George Murray, who had taken her place in the box. From the first words that he uttered, it was obvious that the strength and integrity of the old man’s personality had at once impressed itself upon-the court. ; ""During the time he spent with us, Mr, Preston appeared perfectly content. Yes, certainly he had been ill, but he had recovered completely some time before the day of the murder. ... Yes, I had gone about the place a great deal with him, riding and walking. ... No,

to my knowledge, he never at any time showed any particular interest in the affairs or personality of the neighbours. _ . Certainly he gave none of us the impression of a man with something brooding in his mind. He appeared to have known trouble and was somewhat silent, but entirely pleasant and com-panionable-not at all like a man who was contemplating a‘ crime or brooding on revenge." So it went on, and the cross-examina-tion was unable to shake his account of a quiet and entirely unassuming guest enjoying an accidental and carefree holiday in the country. Mrs. Marsden’s evidence was on the same lines. She was as calm and unruffled as though she were presiding over the dining-room table at Te Rata as she gave an account of the arrival of the accused man and his daughter late at night. "They had quite obviously lost their way and knew nothing whatever about our part of the world," she said quietly but emphatically. She went on to describe their gradual absorption into the life of the household. " At no time did Mr. Preston give any impression of uneasiness or disturbance of mind," she declared. It had all, according to her, been an accidental friendship, but one which the whole party had enjoyed. To the Crown Prosecutor she gave an account of Langley’s calling one afternoon with a message for Mr. Murray. Yes, it was probably the first time the man had been there during Mr. Preston’s visit; they had never seen much of him. Yes, he would go past the veranda where the guest was sitting and they would certainly recognise each other. If’ Langley delayed, it was only for a moment, for she herself had not noticed that he was long in getting off the premises. She stepped down from the box leaving an impression of entire honesty and truthfulness. Ashton almost deigned to smile. This was one of those calm, unimaginative witnesses that are worth their weight in gold to a counsel; he whispered as much behind his hand to his subordinate and Morgan nodded emphatically. (Continued on next page)

IT IS DARK IN THE BUSH (Continued trom previous page) During the afternoon a succession of witnesses was called for the defence; John Murray’s testimony bore out that of his uncle and of Mrs. Marsden, and was given with a youthful enthusiasm that could not be entirely hidden. Judith was an interesting figure in the box, and her appearance roused an excitement second only to that caused by Ann’s evidence. She was very pale and to David’s surprise not as calm and reliable a witness as they had all expected. Her voice shook and she had several times to repeat a remark at the Judge’s request. Eventually she left the box amidst a general feeling of sympathy, at least amongst the female onlookers. "And if she was a bit nervous, what could you expect?" murmured one woman in the gallery to her neighbour, "A young thing like that brought into court on her honeymoon, and in a murder case, too." "Yes, and having to dress herself up so quiet, more as if she was in mourning than a bride, when of course she’d be wanting to wear all her smart clothes." The fourth day of the trial opened with the examination of the prisoner himself, for, despite the misgivings of his advisers, Preston had insisted on going into the box. "T’ve nothing to hide," he said doggedly, "so why be afraid of their cross-examination?"

Nevertheless, as he told the whole story of his association with the murdered man, as the Court heard the tale of trickery, of deceit and of coldblooded desertion that had all happened a score of years ago and yet was still able to bring a flash of rage to the prisoner’s sunken eyes, a ring of hatred and defiance to his low voice, it seemed as if he had lost more than he had gained by his honesty. Every word that Preston uttered, every admission that he made, proved more completely than any hearsay testimony that he had motive abundant and to spare for the crime. Under Ashton’s careful handling the full effect of unshakable innocence was brought out. Preston stated positively that he had had no idea at all of Langley’s whereabouts when he left prison, no knowledge that he had gone to New Zealand to live; it was sheer, dreadful coincidence that had brought him to the same part of the world as his old enemy. "Yet the evidence has shown that you were annoyed and impatient at the delay to your car?" "T was." " And exactly why?" "Because, I suppose, I am impatient by nature. I was free at last and I wanted to go where I pleased, do what I pleased. I was irritated at being held up by a mechanical defect in the car I had _ hired." "In short, your state of mind was disturbed?"

"Not particularly, except with the disturbance natural to the mind of a man who has been fifteen rai . and. is. almost . strangeness of. ‘ae I was, I extremely restless: I have ae been restless." The quiet words called up a tartible picture to David’s eyes-that of a man naturally ardent, active, impatient, shut within the narrow confines of prison walls for the best years of his life. Fate had indeed been unjust and cruel. Was she about to make tardy restitution or to deal a final and shattering blow? What impression was Preston making upon the stolid row of jurymen? He fancied that at one moment he had caught a sympathetic gleam in the foreman’s eyes, but on the whole their attitude seemed to express the conventional disapproval of twelve law-abiding men for one of society’s outcasts. Would a murder, they wondered, lie very heavily upon a heart so hardened? But if there was any uncertainty as to the reception of Preston’s story of the past, there could be no doubt of the disastrous effect caused by the crossexamination concerning his doings upon the day of the actual crime. When Ashton had questioned’ him, the dramatic force of the story had glossed over its wildness and incredibility; but when the Crown Prosecutor rose to cross-examine, it was changed almost at once to a fiction so palpably absurd that it was scarcely worth the serious attention of

a Supteme Court. In reply to Ashton he had told the story of discovery by his old enemy and, with no direct appeal for pity, had drawn a moving picture of his dreadful indecision, his determination to submit to blackmail rather than lose his new-found happiness and jeopardise the future of his daughter, of his wild rush up to the cottage, only to arrive there too late. "Will you tell us what you found at the cottage?" asked Ashton’s sympathetic voice. "Nothing at first. The dog was chained at its kennel and barked at me but I saw no sign of Langley." "What did you do then?" "Shouted out once or twice and at last pushed open the door and went in. I wanted to see whether Langley had already left. If he had, I knew that the few possessions that were of any value would have gone too, But things were as usual in the kitchen. Then I walked through into the bedroom and found him." "What did you see?" "T saw Langley apparently asleep on his bunk. At first I thought he was drunk because there was a partly empty bottle of whisky on the table and the room smelt of spirits. Then I looked more closely and saw he was dead." "And then?" " My first feeling was naturally one of relief." (To be continued next week)