The Three-Body Problem Page 15

  Mr Bexheath: Thank you very much, Mr Withers. This is highly interesting. Can you possibly remember the precise day on which the prisoner talked about having made a mathematical discovery?

  Mr Withers: Let me think. I left Cambridge for some days after Easter. I came back on a Thursday. High table would have been on the Friday. So I met Weatherburn … yes, it was on a Sunday. So it must have been Sunday, April 8th.

  Mr Bexheath: This is very useful. Thank you very much for your helpful testimony, Mr Withers.

  Mr Withers: You are quite welcome.

  Cross-examination of Mr Withers, by Mr Haversham

  Mr Haversham: Mr Withers, you say that you were not particularly acquainted with Mr Akers, Mr Beddoes and Mr Crawford.

  Mr Withers: Yes, not particularly.

  Mr Haversham: Did you attend Mr Beddoes’ funeral?

  Mr Withers: Yes, naturally.

  Mr Haversham: Did you take it upon yourself to accompany Mrs Beddoes to her carriage afterwards?

  Mr Withers: I did.

  Mr Haversham: Have you ever been invited to their house?

  Mr Withers: Yes.

  Mr Haversham: How many times?

  Mr Withers: I really didn’t count them.

  Mr Haversham: So it was sufficiently often for you to lose count. Not in the nature of two or three times only, then.

  Mr Withers: Well, a little more than that.

  Mr Haversham: Your acquaintance with Mrs Beddoes and her husband does not appear to have been so very slight.

  Mr Withers: Well, I knew Beddoes a little better than the other two.

  Mr Haversham: And yet you would use the words ‘slight acquaintance’ to denote your relations with a man who had invited you to his house numerous times?

  Mr Withers: It was a little more than slight.

  Mr Haversham: Oh, thank you for the rectification. Now, Mr Withers, I would like to return to the subject so interestingly raised by my learned friend: that of the insulting attitude frequently adopted by Mr Akers, and also occasionally, although in a lesser measure, by Mr Crawford, in public.

  Mr Withers: Yes, what about it?

  Mr Haversham: Were you yourself ever the butt of such remarks?

  Mr Withers: I don’t remember.

  Mr Haversham: But there are witnesses who remember such an occasion perfectly well. The event occurred at the garden party following a lecture delivered by Professor Arthur Cayley on the subject of the teaching of mathematics. The witnesses claim that you made a remark about joining an anti-Euclid society, and that Mr Crawford said to you, ‘Before you criticise the teaching methods of better men than yourself, you’d do well to master the mathematics they aim to communicate!’

  Mr Withers: I have no recollection of the event.

  Mr Haversham: You have no recollection of your reaction?

  Mr Withers: None at all.

  Mr Haversham: One witness claims that you laughed weakly.

  Mr Withers: Well, it must have been a joke, not an insult, and the witness did not understand it.

  Mr Haversham: The witness claims that those around did not take it as a joke, and that Mr Wentworth rose to your defence, demanding of Mr Crawford to explain exactly what he meant, upon which he continued to insult you, and you departed.

  Mr Withers: I don’t recall any of this. And at any rate, I did not butter up Mr Crawford.

  Mr Haversham: Quite so. Nor did you tell him to go boil his head, although you described it as the only natural reaction of a man with pride.

  Mr Withers: Humph.

  Mr Haversham: My cross-examination is finished, my Lord.

  Mr Justice Penrose: You may stand down.

  Throughout this testimony, Arthur showed no sign of the sorrow or disgust that this man’s ignoble description of his actions must have engendered within him. Yet his whole aspect appeared desperately tired and hopeless, as though at this point, he wished only for an end to the weary proceedings, whatever it might be. Merely from his demeanour, I perceive that he feels none of the surging hope of being acquitted that I feel for him, none of the indignation, not even the waves of terrible fear that sweep through me whenever I recall that Mr Bexheath’s tendentious questions are not just misleading, infuriating and untruthful, but death-dealing. Arthur’s very lifeblood seems to flow otherwise than mine; mine rushes in tumults, driving me to action, while his is a dreamy little brook, in which he floats absently, like Ophelia ‘incapable of his own distress’.

  Oh, how I seethe within at Mr Withers’ nastiness. No matter what the outcome of this trial, I shall certainly never address a single word to Mr Withers again. By now I am used to the fact that Mr Bexheath is able to elicit exactly the information he wants from the various witnesses, but Mr Withers appears to positively burn with the desire to aid and abet him in his nefarious, mistaken goals. Perhaps he has his own purposes. Ha.

  Yours ever

  Vanessa

  Cambridge, Wednesday, May 23rd, 1888

  Dear Dora,

  That horrid Mr Bexheath would tear the waters of untruth from the driest stone! I was this morning’s first witness, and was so upset after his horrid examination that I had to leave the court in order to hide my tears of rage.

  Before being called, during the few minutes that it takes us to arrive and settle on our witnesses’ bench, Mr Morrison kept me up to date, by informing me in a whisper that yesterday afternoon, Mr Bexheath interrogated the waiters at the Irish pub, who recalled serving dinner to Arthur and Mr Akers on the first occasion, and Arthur and Mr Beddoes on the second. One of them recalled the whisky, wine and water ordered by Mr Akers at the first meal, and Mr Bexheath picked up his testimony and addressed himself to the jury, stressing the fact that the prisoner is fond of red wine, like Mr Crawford’s mysterious visitor, who would have had such a perfect opportunity to pour the poison into the whisky bottle on the day of his friendly visit, and that the victim had ordered water, in order to take his medicine, which proved that Arthur was familiar with the bottle of digitalin he kept in his pocket. The waiter testified that Arthur and Mr Akers were always together throughout the entire meal, except for one brief journey of Mr Akers’ to wash his hands, and they left together. Oh, how can they think that these stupid remarks prove anything!

  I was then informed that I was to be the first witness called today, and prepared myself stubbornly inside to resist the tooth-baring, fire-breathing dragon that I perceived behind Mr Bexheath’s bland features. Alas, more like a serpent than a dragon, he twisted the things I said into their very opposite meanings, and spoilt my reputation in doing it.

  Direct examination of Miss Duncan, by Mr Bexheath

  Mr Bexheath: Please give your name, age and occupation.

  Vanessa: Vanessa Duncan, twenty, schoolteacher.

  Mr Bexheath: Miss Duncan, I have spoken to your landlady, and she has told me that you have rooms on the ground floor of her house, and the prisoner’s rooms were just above yours. Is this true?

  Vanessa: (through clenched teeth, and determined to be as monosyllabic as possible) Yes.

  Mr Bexheath: She tells me that you spoke to her of your upstairs neighbour’s habit of continually pacing back and forth at night. Is this true?

  Vanessa: Yes.

  Mr Bexheath: The prisoner paced a great deal, alone in his rooms at night?

  Vanessa: Well, he paced sometimes.

  Mr Bexheath: It is well-known, of course, that sleeplessness and nocturnal pacing are signs of a troubled conscience.

  Vanessa: (forgetting to speak in monosyllables) What nonsense! He paced because he was thinking about mathematics.

  Mr Bexheath: Quite. So, Miss Duncan, eventually you became acquainted with the prisoner socially?

  Vanessa: Yes. We met at a dinner party given by the mother of one of my pupils.

  Mr Bexheath: Did you once have tea in Grantchester with the prisoner?

  Vanessa: Yes.

  Mr Bexheath: You went alone together to Grantchester?

  Vaness
a: Yes.

  Mr Bexheath: You are aware that this constitutes very suggestive behaviour?

  Vanessa: No.

  Mr Bexheath: Oh, you are not aware. Then perhaps you should become aware, for your good name is threatened by such behaviour. Did you ever visit the prisoner in his rooms?

  Vanessa: Never.

  Mr Bexheath: Did the prisoner ever visit you in your rooms?

  Vanessa: Yes. Once he came down to my rooms to give me a magazine edited by Mr Oscar Wilde and to invite me to the theatre in London with a party of friends.

  Mr Bexheath: Did he enter your rooms?

  Vanessa: No, he stood at the door.

  Mr Bexheath: Very correct, I am sure. And that is the only time he ever visited you in your rooms?

  Vanessa: No.

  Mr Bexheath: There were other times?

  Vanessa: One other time. He briefly took tea in my rooms after returning from the theatre where we had been, as I said, with a party of friends.

  Mr Bexheath: Your friends of course joined you for this tea?

  Vanessa: No.

  Mr Bexheath: Only the prisoner came into your rooms?

  Vanessa: Yes.

  Mr Bexheath: What time of day was it?

  Vanessa: It was near midnight.

  Mr Bexheath: You and the prisoner were alone in your rooms together at midnight?

  Vanessa: Yes, for a short time. We only—

  Mr Bexheath: I AM LEARNING most interesting facts about the prisoner’s attitudes in his personal life. Nocturnal pacing is now followed by nocturnal visits to the rooms of young ladies living alone. You, Miss Duncan, hail from the countryside, and may be unaware of the social consequences of such actions as you have been engaging in, but Mr Weatherburn is most certainly aware of them. If you did not previously, do you at least now realise how he has compromised you?

  Vanessa: No.

  Mr Bexheath: You would do better to realise it, and modify your future behaviour accordingly, if it is not already too late. However, Miss Duncan, you are not on trial here. You are young and inexperienced, and I give you this advice in a fatherly and not in a judgemental spirit. The case of the prisoner is an entirely different one. Your testimony paints a most relevant picture of the prisoner’s very personal manner of flouting noble feelings in the pursuit of his own pleasure and advantage.

  Vanessa: No, it does not!

  Mr Bexheath: Miss Duncan, I counsel you to abandon your stubborn attitude, and to reflect carefully and deeply on what I have told you. I have no more questions for you. This was my last witness, my Lord. It is unfortunate that there are no witnesses to the actual deeds of which the prisoner is accused, but that is only to be expected. One tends to avoid committing murder in front of people. The witnesses I have questioned here have attested, as you have heard, my Lord, and gentlemen of the jury, to a mass of details which build up to form a coherent picture which I will summarise fully and completely in my closing speech.

  Mr Justice Penrose: Thank you. Would counsel for the defence like to cross-examine?

  Mr Haversham: Most certainly, my Lord.

  Cross-examination of Miss Duncan, by Mr Haversham

  Mr Haversham: Miss Duncan, what day was the fatal midnight visit to your rooms upon which my learned colleague has made so many insinuations?

  Vanessa: It was on the 7th of April.

  Mr Haversham: And how long did Mr Weatherburn remain in your rooms at that time?

  Vanessa: About fifteen minutes.

  Mr Haversham: How did he come to enter your rooms?

  Vanessa: We came in from outside, where we had stopped in a hansom. It was raining extremely hard. We were wet. I invited him in for a cup of tea.

  Mr Haversham: What did you do during his visit?

  Vanessa: We sat in front of the fire and had tea and talked a little about the play we had just seen and the friends we had just left.

  Mr Haversham: How did Mr Weatherburn come to take his leave?

  Vanessa: He jumped up quite suddenly and said that some mathematical proof had suddenly struck him, and dashed off upstairs, almost forgetting his overcoat.

  Mr Haversham: It does not strike me that such a brief neighbourly call can be considered to destroy anybody’s reputation, nor to constitute a flouting of noble feelings nor a defiance of social conventions, I am glad to say. Furthermore, I take it that the mathematical discovery which caused the prisoner to precipitately leave Miss Duncan’s room is one and the same as that which he mentioned to Mr Withers on the following day. There are no grounds to conclude that it had any relation whatsoever to the famous n-body problem; it is more likely to be related to his own personal research. We will return to this question later. In the meantime, Miss Duncan, I would like, if I may, to ask you some questions about serious matters. Do you recall the garden party following Professor Cayley’s lecture on the teaching of mathematics, which took place on the 23rd of April?

  Vanessa: Yes, very well.

  Mr Haversham: Did you hear some words exchanged between Mr Beddoes and Mr Crawford?

  Vanessa: Yes.

  Mr Haversham: Can you recall them?

  Vanessa: There weren’t many. First, Mr Crawford was standing with the group of people around Mrs Beddoes, and when Mr Beddoes came up, Mr Crawford simply said something like ‘Here’s Beddoes, I haven’t seen you for a week, how have you been?’

  Mr Haversham: That seems normal enough. How did Mr Beddoes respond?

  Vanessa: He seemed extremely surprised. I did not know then that they had quarrelled, but that would explain his surprise. He only said ‘Quite well’. Then the mathematicians standing about went on arguing, and then Mr Crawford left, but just as he was leaving, he turned to Mr Beddoes and said that he needed to see him soon, and that they should dine together, and that he would let him know. Mr Beddoes seemed surprised and rather pleased at this invitation.

  Mr Haversham: So Mr Beddoes had quarrelled with Mr Crawford and they had not spoken until the garden party at which Mr Crawford appeared to wish for a reconciliation, and spoke of a dinner invitation. Might he not have been actually preparing the dinner invitation which he did extend to Mr Beddoes a week later, as part of a plan to murder him?

  Mr Bexheath: I object to all this, my Lord! A flighty young lady’s interpretations of the moods of those around her cannot be introduced as evidence, and neither can my learned colleague’s unsubstantiated hypotheses!

  Mr Haversham: Everything the witness has described was observed by several people, some of whom will be called as witnesses for the defence. For that matter, it can be confirmed by Mrs Beddoes, my Lord, who was also present. But I do not wish to trouble her unnecessarily in her distress.

  Mr Justice Penrose: Quite so. We accept the witness’s statements subject to corroboration by subsequent witnesses for the defence.

  Mr Haversham: In that case, I have no further questions.

  Oh, Dora, wasn’t Mr Bexheath awful? I do feel afraid that if word of this gets out of this courtroom, some of the mothers of my pupils may not appreciate it at all. What if my school fails because of it? Oh dear, am I ruined? It does seem so very stupid, for a lovely cup of tea! How can society be so absurd, so suspicious? It’s odd – people are all trying (or at least, they seem to be trying) as hard as they can to be decent and moral, but seems leads to all kinds of extra, unnecessary suspiciousness and nastiness. Oh well. If Arthur is hanged I hardly care whether I am ruined or not. I might as well be. I shall return home, and we shall be two old maids and live by netting.

  Your loving although ruined twin

  Vanessa

  Cambridge, Thursday, May 24th, 1888

  Oh, Dora –

  This morning I woke up, and the memory of yesterday’s disaster swept over my consciousness, and I wanted to hide under the covers and remain there forever. How difficult it was to oblige myself to rise and dress, and bend my steps towards the courthouse. I loathed to go, yet I had to go, and could not have stayed away, though I felt that I must have earn
ed the general contempt of everyone in the room (or perhaps only my own, which is heavy enough).

  I hardly dared look at Mr Morrison, but he sat down next to me immediately, exactly as though nothing untoward had happened, and gave me his usual news bulletin: I had been the last witness for the prosecution, and in the afternoon, the judge invited Mr Haversham to begin calling the witnesses for the defence. Mr Haversham called Arthur, and led him with careful questions through his contacts with all the mathematicians of his acquaintance, and the murdered men in particular, and then elicited full details of the evenings spent with Mr Akers and Mr Beddoes, and everything possible concerning the quarrel between Mr Crawford and Mr Beddoes. Mr Morrison said that the story which emerged was simple and coherent, and appeared to ring true. But as it was drawing late, his cross-examination had been put off until this morning. I braced myself to silently endure the unavoidable wave of horridness.

  Cross-examination of Mr Weatherburn, by Mr Bexheath

  Mr Bexheath: (addressing himself to the members of the jury) Let me make my intentions clear. In interrogating the prisoner, my goal is to clarify details of how the murders actually took place.

  Mr Haversham: My Lord, I object to my learned colleague’s statement! It implies a presumption of guilt.

  Mr Justice Penrose: No, it does not. Counsel’s sentence is perfectly clear: he wishes to clarify details of how the murders took place.

  Mr Bexheath: Thank you, my Lord. Now, sir, let us begin with the first murder, that of Mr Geoffrey Akers. You dined with Mr Akers on the evening of February 14th?

  Arthur: Yes, I d-did.

  Mr Bexheath: Before discussing the actual events of that dinner, I would like to deal with two points: your relations with Mr Akers, and the question of how you came to be dining with him at all. How would you describe your relations with Mr Akers?