Read Hardcastle's Obsession Online
Authors: Graham Ison
Hardcastle's Obsession (29 page)
For a reason known only to himself the Solicitor-General, Sir Gordon Hewart, KC, had decided to prosecute. Languishing on the front bench, he was seated close to Sir Roland Storey, KC, who was appearing for the defence. Behind these two eminent silks was a group of juniors, each of whom was busily reading through his brief for the umpteenth time.
As the judge entered, the court rose as one and the barristers bowed.
‘Put up the prisoner,’ said the judge.
Flanked by grim-looking prison wardresses, Lady Naylor was ushered into the high dock. She was soberly dressed, all in black, with a small straw hat and a veil.
She pleaded Not Guilty to the indictments: the wilful murders of Annie Kelly and Lady Sarah Millard.
The bailiff led twelve severely countenanced men into the jury box. As the law required they were all men of property.
The trial was ready to begin.
Sir Gordon Hewart rose, introduced himself and counsel for the defence, and outlined the case against Hilda Naylor.
But Hardcastle and Marriott saw none of this; together with the other prosecution witnesses they were corralled in the echoing hall outside the courtroom.
An usher appeared. ‘Divisional Detective Inspector Ernest Hardcastle,’ he cried, peering around at the assembled witnesses.
In a masterful demonstration of how evidence should be given, Hardcastle outlined the salient points of his investigation, including the finding of Lady Naylor’s necklace close to where Annie Kelly’s body was found, and receiving from Mrs Cartwright the key to Lady Sarah’s apartment.
The trial continued prosaically for the next few days with only the occasional highlight to break the monotony of dull testimony.
One such notable exception was the appearance of Bertha Cartwright.
Elegantly attired in a black coat and a wide-brimmed hat with a feather, she took the oath in a confident voice.
Sir Gordon Hewart smiled. It was an attempt to put her at her ease, but it was unnecessary. ‘You are Mrs Bertha Cartwright, and you are employed as the station matron at Cannon Row police station. Is that correct, madam?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Please tell My Lord and the gentlemen of the jury what occurred on Wednesday the first of November last.’
‘Sergeant Marriott asked me to search Lady Naylor and her belongings, sir.’
‘And what did you find, Mrs Cartwright?’
‘I found nothing of consequence on her person or her clothing, sir, but then I searched her handbag.’
‘And what did you find?’ asked Hewart.
‘A bunch of keys, a diary, a small account book, a lace-trimmed handkerchief, a pencil in a silver holder, and some visiting cards in a silver case, sir.’ Bertha Cartwright spoke without hesitation.
‘Was that all?’
‘No, sir. I also found a separate key that I handed to Sergeant Marriott.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Cartwright. Just stay there in case my learned friend wants to ask you any questions.’
Sir Roland Storey rose to his feet, hitched his gown back on to his left shoulder, and glared at the witness.
‘Mrs Cartwright, I put it to you that you made Lady Naylor strip naked in a cold cell.’
‘Yes, sir. It was necessary so’s I could search her properly. It’s the procedure.’
‘I also put it to you that at one stage you struck Lady Naylor a blow. In fact, I suggest you slapped her face.’
Mrs Cartwright was not in the slightest discomfited by the accusation, true though it was. ‘I did, sir,’ she said blandly. ‘Lady Naylor was hysterical at the time, and it’s the correct treatment for hysteria.’
‘You are qualified in such matters, are you?’ asked Storey sarcastically.
‘I am, sir. I am a state-registered nurse. I also remember Lady Naylor calling me a fat cow. Not the behaviour I’d’ve expected from a titled lady.’
‘Yes, I see. Thank you, Mrs Cartwright.’ Storey sat down. Eminent KC he might be, but he had not reckoned on so spirited a response from a police station matron.
The hint of a smile crossed the judge’s face as he glanced at Sir Gordon Hewart. ‘Mr Solicitor?’
‘I have no further questions of this witness, My Lord,’ said Hewart.
‘Thank you, Mrs Cartwright,’ said the judge, ‘you may step down, but stay within the precincts of the court.’
The trial lasted three weeks. Among those called to give evidence were Dr Spilsbury, DI Collins, Edward and Gladys Drake, Mrs Hampton, the cook at the Naylors’ Grosvenor Place house, Cyril Pearce, the butler who had walked out on the Naylors, and James Charlton, the Wendover cab driver, making his first visit to London.
The jury took ten hours to reach their verdict, but it was damning.
‘Hilda Naylor,’ began the judge sternly, ‘you have been found guilty of the heinous crime of murder, and rightly so in my view. Have you anything to say before sentence of death be passed upon you?’
But Lady Naylor was incapable of a response. She had been so unreasonably confident of an acquittal that the verdict took her by surprise, and she had collapsed when it was returned. Now sobbing hysterically, and supported by the wardresses, she was unable to say anything; just a low moan emerged from her.
The judge donned the black cap and passed sentence. The chaplain appealed to the Almighty to have mercy on Lady Naylor’s soul, and within the hour she was in the condemned cell at Holloway prison in north London.
The Home Secretary, Sir Herbert Samuel, carefully considered the sentence, but marked the docket ‘Let the law take its course.’
Three weeks later, Hilda Naylor was hanged. The usual collection of morbid sightseers waited outside the gates of the prison until the black flag was raised and a stark, brief notice confirming her execution was placed outside.
‘There’s an interesting piece on the Court Circular page of
The Times
this morning that might interest you, Ernie.’ Superintendent Arthur Hudson stood in the doorway of Hardcastle’s office holding the newspaper.
The Times
this morning that might interest you, Ernie.’ Superintendent Arthur Hudson stood in the doorway of Hardcastle’s office holding the newspaper.
‘What’s that, sir?’ asked the DDI as he stood up.
‘It states that the King has commanded that the name of Royston Naylor be struck from the roll of Knights Bachelor.’
‘Can’t say I’m surprised, sir,’ said Hardcastle. ‘In my opinion, Naylor was lucky to get away with just losing his knighthood. And it certainly puts paid to his aspirations for a peerage. Their lordships don’t much care for sharing a bench with someone whose missus has been topped for murder.’
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