A Corpse in Shining Armour. Caro Peacock

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      ‘How long ago was this?’

      ‘I received the note last Saturday morning. As soon as her ladyship gave permission, I had the armour dusted and moved from the gallery to the old dairy for packing. We had to wait for crates to be got down from the attic and wood-shavings brought from the carpenter’s shop, so by the time we finished packing and nailing them down it was too late to send that day. There was no point in sending the armour up on Sunday, with the shop not open, so I gave instructions that our carter was to come first thing on Monday morning and collect the crates.

      ‘And did that happen?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Did you check the crates when they were loaded on to the vehicle on Monday morning?’

      ‘No, sir.’

      The coroner looked surprised.

      ‘Wasn’t that part of your duties?’

      ‘The carter came early, sir, and I was engaged elsewhere on the estate. My instructions to him were quite clear, so there was no great need to be there.’

      ‘So nobody counted the crates when they were loaded and realised there was one extra?’

      ‘It seems not, sir.’

      ‘You said the armour was packed in the old dairy. Where is that in relation to the house?’

      ‘A hundred yards or so away, on the far side of the back courtyard.’

      ‘Why choose to pack the armour there?’

      ‘We don’t use it as a dairy any more, now we get our milk and butter from the farm, so it was just convenient, sir.’

      ‘Was it locked overnight while the armour was in it?’

      ‘No, sir.’

      ‘Wasn’t that somewhat lax? I assume ancient armour has some considerable value?’

      Whiteley glanced across at the grey-haired man again and hesitated.

      ‘I suppose we didn’t see the need for it, sir.’

      ‘So anybody could have gained access to the crates during Saturday night and all through Sunday?’

      ‘I suppose so, sir.’

      ‘When did you last see those crates?’

      ‘Just after eight o’clock on the Sunday evening.’

      Whiteley seemed sure of his ground again. The coroner looked at him over his glasses.

      ‘Had you gone to check that they were safe?’

      ‘Not exactly, sir.’

      ‘What do you mean? Either you did or you didn’t.’

      ‘The fact is, sir, I looked out of my window and saw Handy leaning against the outside wall of the old dairy. Knowing him, I thought he might be thinking of getting up to some mischief with the armour, so I went out and asked him what he was doing. He said he’d only come out to smoke his pipe and wasn’t doing anybody any harm. In my opinion, he’d been drinking. I said he could go and smoke his pipe elsewhere, so he took himself off.’

      ‘Did you see where he went?’

      ‘Towards the vegetable garden. To be honest, I didn’t take a lot of interest. I looked through the window at the crates. Everything seemed to be in order, so I didn’t think much more about it.’

      ‘You said you feared he might be thinking of getting up to some mischief with the armour. Why was that?’

      ‘He was a bit of a one for practical jokes, sir. I wouldn’t have put it past him to get it out and dress up in it.’

      ‘But as far as you could tell, he didn’t?’

      ‘No, sir. It was still in there, all nailed up.’

      ‘Did you see him again?’

      ‘No, sir.’

      ‘As far as you know, did anybody else in the household see him again?’

      ‘No, sir.’

      ‘So to the best of your knowledge, Sunday evening just after eight o’clock was the last time anybody in the household saw Handy alive?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘And you’re sure of the time?’

      ‘To within five or ten minutes, sir. It was just before the servants sit down to their supper. We have it at quarter past eight, on account of her ladyship dining early.’

      The coroner seemed to go on writing for a long time, occasionally glancing across at Whiteley, who stood staring ahead, face flushed. When the coroner had finished writing, he asked Whiteley a few more questions. Had he been aware of any disturbance on Sunday night or early Monday morning? Had anybody in the household reported anything out of the way to him? The answer was no to both questions. The coroner wanted to know if the deceased had any enemies.

      ‘Not enemies as such, sir. But the other servants were none too friendly.’

      ‘Why was that?’

      ‘They thought he gave himself airs on account of working for his lordship so long.’

      ‘Did anybody ever make threats against him?’

      ‘Oh no, sir.’

      Finally Whiteley was allowed to stand down and he took a seat in the front row. There was a long silence. The coroner nodded to his clerk to come forward and the two of them conferred for some time. The clerk sat down and the coroner addressed the jurors.

      ‘As you may have gathered, it is an unsatisfactory situation with regard to the evidence. There would seem to be several possible verdicts open to you: death as a result of accident or misadventure, or by manslaughter, unlawful killing or murder by person or persons unknown. As things stand, there is not enough information available to you to reach a conclusion. The chief officer of the Metropolitan Police, in whose area the body was discovered, may well wish to order further investigations. These may take some time, so I am adjourning this inquest sine die. In the meantime, I direct that the body of the deceased should be released to his next of kin for burial. Thank you for your patience, gentlemen.’

      The coroner and his clerk walked out. The jurors, taken aback by the sudden ending of the case, started asking each other if that meant they were free to go. They decided they were and filed out with a disappointed air. Jimmy Cuffs had already gone. The adjournment was good news for him and the rest of the press, for it would mean two stories instead of one. After a word with the grey-haired man, Miles Brinkburn left the courtroom, still looking dazed. There were only three of us left now: Mr Whiteley, the grey-haired man and myself. I sat quietly unnoticed in my corner as Mr Whiteley walked over to the СКАЧАТЬ