Agatha Christie

“ Leonard Vole, who had been staring in a dazed fashion at the blank wall in front of him, transferred his glance to the solicitor.
"I know," he said hopelessly. "You keep telling me so. But I can’t seem to realize yet that I’m charged with murder-–murder. And such a dastardly crime too."
Mr. Mayherne was practical, not emotional. He coughed again, took off his pince-nez, polished them carefully, and replaced them on his nose. Then he said, "Yes, yes, yes. Now, my dear Mr. Vole, we’re going to make a determined effort to get you off – and we shall succeed – we shall succeed. ”

“ The prisoner sprang to his feet. His dismay was obvious and unforced. "My God! What are you saying? She left her money to me?"
Mr. Mayherne nodded slowly. Vole sank down again, his head in his hands.
"You pretend you know nothing of this will?"
"Pretend? There’s no pretense about it. I knew nothing about it."
"What would you say if I told you that the maid, Janet Mackenzie, swears that you did know? That her mistress told her distinctly that she had consulted you in the matter, and told you of her intentions?"
"Say? That she’s lying! No, I go too fast. Janet is an elderly woman. ”

“ How stupid men are! Stupid – stupid– stupid –"
She rose suddenly to her feet. All the intense emotion that the lawyer had been conscious of in the atmosphere was now concentrated in her tone.
"I hate him, I tell you! I hate him. I hate him. I hate him! I would like to see him hanged by the neck till he is dead."
The lawyer recoiled before her and the smoldering passion in her eyes. ”

“ The solicitor read and reread this strange epistle. It might, of course, be a hoax, but when he thought it over, he became increasingly convinced that it was genuine, and also convinced that it was the one hope for the prisoner. The evidence of Romaine Heilger damned him completely, and the line the defense meant to pursue, the line that the evidence of a woman who had admittedly lived an immoral life was not to be trusted, was at best a weak one.
Mr. Mayherne’s mind was made up. It was his duty to save his client at all costs. He must go to Shaw’s Rents. ”

“ Janet Mackenzie, the solicitor learned, had always been attached to this young man, and had never ceased urging his claims upon her mistress. It certainly seemed possible that it was this nephew who had been with Miss French after Leonard Vole left, especially as he was not to be found in any of his old haunts.
In all other directions, the lawyer’s researches had been negative in their result. No one had seen Leonard Vole entering his own house, or leaving that of Miss French. No one had seen any other man enter or leave the house in Cricklewood. ”

“ He stopped. It was so very obvious that Romaine Vole had not the slightest intention of giving way. She was perfectly calm and composed.
"Will you please tell me about it?" she said. "I must know everything. Do not think to spare me. I want to know the worst." ”

“ The prisoner reserved his defense and was committed for trial.
Mr. Mayherne was at his wits’ end. The case against Leonard Vole was black beyond words. Even the famous K.C.1 who was engaged for the defense held out little hope.
"If we can shake that Austrian woman’s testimony, we might do something," he said dubiously. "But it’s a bad business." Mr. Mayherne had concentrated his energies on one single point. Assuming Leonard Vole to be speaking the truth, and to have left the murdered woman’s house at nine o’clock, who was the man Janet heard talking to Miss French at half past nine? ”

“ Mayherne.
"You poor little man," she laughed.
"And I believe so still," finished the lawyer. "Good evening, madam."
He went out of the room, taking with him the memory of her startled face. This is going to be the devil of a business, said Mr. Mayherne to himself as he strode along the street.
Extraordinary, the whole thing. An extraordinary woman. A very dangerous woman. Women were the devil when they got their knife into you. ”

“ That she was rich, eccentric, lived alone with one maid and owned no less than eight cats."
"I see," said Mr. Mayherne. "The question of her being well off came up as early as that?"
"If you mean that I inquired –" began Leonard Vole hotly, but Mr. Mayherne stilled him with a gesture.
"I have to look at the case as it will be presented by the other side. An ordinary observer would not have supposed Miss French to be a lady of means. She lived poorly, almost humbly. ”

“ Leonard Vole had been flattered. Perhaps, too, she had not been averse to letting this young man know that she was wealthy. Emily French had been a strong-willed old woman, willing to pay her price for what she wanted. All this passed rapidly through Mr. Mayherne’s mind, but he gave no indication of it, and asked instead a further question. ”

“ The judge’s summing up was not wholly favorable to the prisoner, but a reaction had set in and the jury needed little time to consider their verdict.
"We find the prisoner not guilty."
Leonard Vole was free!
Little Mr. Mayherne hurried from his seat. He must congratulate his client.
He found himself polishing his pince-nez vigorously, and checked himself. His wife had told him only the night before that he was getting a habit of it. Curious things, habits. People themselves never knew they had them.
An interesting case – a very interesting case. That woman, now, Romaine Heilger. ”

“ Curious things, habits. People themselves never knew they had them. ”

“ Mayherne to himself. No – there’s almost too much evidence against him. I don’t believe this woman. She was trumping up the whole story. But she’ll never bring it into court. He wished he felt more conviction on the point. he police court proceedings were brief and dramatic. The principal witnesses for the prosecution were Janet Mackenzie, maid to the dead woman, and Romaine Heilger, Austrian subject, the mistress of the prisoner. ”

“ She was killed with a heavy blow from a crowbar, and the crowbar was found lying on the floor beside the body. And several articles were missing. But for Janet’s absurd suspicions and dislike of me, the police would never have swerved from the right track. ”

“ First published in Munsey’s Magazine in 1924 and then reprinted in Christie’s collections The Hound of Death (1933) and Witness for the Prosecution and Other Stories (1948) .
Mr. Mayherne adjusted his pince-nez and cleared his throat with a little dry-as-dust cough that was wholly typical of him. Then he looked again at the man opposite him, the man charged with willful murder.
Mr. Mayherne was a small man, precise in manner, neatly, not to say foppishly dressed, with a pair of very shrewd and piercing gray eyes. By no means a fool. Indeed, as a solicitor, Mr. ”