The Reminiscences of Sir Henry Hawkins (Baron Brampton) Part 13

Cresswell was the President, and the future President, Hannen, my junior.

We won a great victory through the remarkable over-confidence and indiscretion of Edwin James, Q.C., who opposed us. James's client was the husband of the deceased. By her will the lady had left him the whole of her property, amounting to nearly 100,000. The case we set up was that the wife had been improperly influenced by her husband in making it, and that her mind was coerced into doing what she did not intend to do, and so we sought to set aside the will on that ground.

Edwin James had proved a very strong case on behalf of the validity of the will. He had called the attesting witnesses, and they, respectable gentlemen as they undoubtedly were, had proved all that was necessary--namely, that the testator, notwithstanding that she was in a feeble condition and almost at the last stage, was perfectly calm and capable in mind and understanding--exactly, in fact, as a testator ought to be who wills her property to her husband if he retains her affection.

The witnesses had been cross-examined by me, and nothing had been elicited that cast the least doubt upon their character or credibility. Had the matter been left where it was, the 100,000 would have been secured. But James, whatever may have been his brilliance, was wanting in tact. He would not leave well alone, but resolved to call the Rev. Mr. Faker, a distinguished Dissenting minister.

In fiction this gentleman would have appeared in the melodramatic guise of a spangled tunic, sugar-loaf hat, with party-coloured ribbons, purple or green breeches, and motley hose; but in the witness-box he was in clerical uniform, a long coat and white cravat with corresponding long face and hair, especially at the back of his head. A soberer style of a stage bandit was never seen. He was just the man for cross-examination, I saw at a glance--a fancy witness, and, I believe, a Welshman. As he was a Christian warrior, I had to find out the weak places in his armour. But little he knew of courts of law and the penetrating art of cross-examination, which could make a hole in the triple-plated coat of fraud, hypocrisy, and cunning. I was in no such panoply. I fought only with my little pebblestone and sling, but took good aim, and then the missile flew with well-directed speed.

I had to throw at a venture at first, because, happily, there were no instructions how to cross-examine. Not that I should have followed them if there had been; but I might have got a _fact_ or two from them.

It is well known that artifice is the resource of cunning, whether it acts on the principle of concealing truth or boldly a.s.serting falsehood. Here the reverend strategist did both: he knew how a little truth could deceive. You must remember that at this point of the case, when the Rev. Faker was called, there was nothing to cross-examine about. I knew nothing of the parties, the witnesses, the solicitors, or any one except my learned friends. It would not have been discreditable to my advocacy if I had submitted to a verdict. I will, therefore, give the points of the questions which elicited the truth from the Christian warrior; and probably the non-legal reader of these memoirs may be interested in seeing what may sometimes be done by a few judicious questions.

"Mr. Faker," I said.

"Sir," says Faker.

"You have told us you acted as the adviser of the testatrix."

"Yes, sir."

"Spiritual adviser, of course?"

A spiritual bow.

"You advised the deceased lady, probably, as to her duties as a dying woman?"

"Certainly."

"Duty to her husband--was that one?"

A slight hesitation in Mr. Faker revealed the vast amount of fraud of which he was capable. It was the smallest peephole, but I saw a good way. Till then there was nothing to cross-examine about, but after that hesitation there was 100,000 worth! He had betrayed himself. At last Faker said,--

"Yes, Mr. Hawkins; yes, sir--her duty to her husband."

"In the way of _providing_ for him?" was my next question.

"Oh yes; quite so."

"You were careful, of course, as you told your learned counsel, to avoid any undue influence?"

"Certainly."

"The will was not completed, I think, when you first saw the dying woman--on the day, I mean, of her death?"

"No, not at that time."

"Was it kept in a little bag by the pillow of the testatrix? Did she retain the keys of the bag herself?"

"That is quite right."

"Had it been executed at this time? I think you said not?"

"Not at this time; it had to be revised."

"How did you obtain possession of the keys?"

"I obtained them."

"Yes, I know; but without her knowledge?"

It was awkward for Faker, but he had to confess that he was not sure.

Then he frankly admitted that the will was taken out of the bag--in the lady's presence, of course, but whether she was quite dead or almost alive was uncertain; and then he and the husband spiritually conferred as to what the real intention of the dying woman in the circ.u.mstances was _likely to be_, and having ascertained that, they made _another will_, which they called "settling the former one" by carrying out the lady's intentions, the lady being now dead to all intentions whatsoever.

This was the will which was offered for probate!

Cresswell thought it was a curious state of affairs, and listened with much interest to the further cross-examination.

"Had you ever seen any other will?" I inquired. It was quite an accidental question, as one would put in a desultory sort of conversation with a friend.

"Er--yes--I have," said Faker.

"What was that?"

"Well, it was a will, to tell you the truth, Mr. Hawkins, executed in my favour for 5,000."

"Where is it?"

"I have not the original," said the minister, "but I have a copy of it."

"Copy! But where is the original?"

"Original?" repeats Faker.

"Yes, the original; there must have been an original if you have a copy."

"Oh," said the Rev. Faker, "I remember, the original was destroyed after the testatrix's death."

"How?"

"Burnt!"

Even the very grave Hannen, my ever-respected friend and junior, smiled; Cresswell, never p.r.o.ne to smile at villainy, smiled also.

"The original burnt, and only a copy produced! What do you mean, sir?"

The situation was dramatic.

"Is it not strange," I asked, "even in _your_ view of things, that the original will should be burnt and the copy preserved?"