“He’s a client of my firm,” said Menzies in a quiet voice.
“A client of your firm,” Sir Humphrey repeated slowly. “I wonder how many of those I could find if I went through your diary at a more leisurely pace?” Menzies bowed his head as Sir Humphrey passed the diary back to the clerk, having made his point.
“Now I should like to turn to some more important questions…”
“Not until after lunch, Sir Humphrey,” the judge intervened. “It’s nearly one and I think we’ll take a break now.”
“As you wish, my Lord,” came back the courteous reply.
I left the court in a more optimistic mood, even though I couldn’t wait to discover what could be more important than that diary. Sir Humphrey’s emphasis on little lies, although they did not prove Menzies was a murderer, did show he was hiding something. I became anxious that during the break Mr. Scott might advise Menzies to admit to his affair with Carla, and thus make the rest of his story appear more credible. To my relief, over the meal I learned that under English law Menzies could not consult his counsel while he was still in the witness box. I noticed when we returned to court that Mr. Scott’s smile had disappeared.
Sir Humphrey rose to continue his cross-examination.
“You have stated under oath, Mr. Menzies, that you are a happily married man.”
“I am, sir,” said the defendant with feeling.
“Was your first marriage as happy, Mr. Menzies?” asked Sir Humphrey casually. The defendant’s cheeks drained of their color. I quickly looked over toward Mr. Scott who could not mask that this was information with which he had not been entrusted.
“Take your time before you answer,” said Sir Humphrey.
All eyes returned to the man in the witness box.
“No,” said Menzies and quickly added, “but I was very young at the time. It was many years ago and all a ghastly mistake.”
“All a ghastly mistake?” repeated Sir Humphrey looking straight at the jury. “And how did that marriage end?”
“In divorce,” Menzies said quite simply.
“And what were the grounds for that divorce?”
“Cruelty,” said Menzies, “but…”
“But … would you like me to read out to the jury what your first wife swore under oath in court that day?”
Menzies stood there shaking. He knew that “No” would damn him and “Yes” would hang him.
“Well, as you seem unable to advise us I will, with your permission, my Lord, read the statement made before Mr. Justice Rodger on June 9, 1961, at the Swindon County Court by the first Mrs. Menzies.” Sir Humphrey cleared his throat. “‘He used to hit me again and again, and it became so bad that I had to run away for fear he might one day kill me.’” Sir Humphrey emphasized the last five words.
“She was exaggerating,” shouted Menzies from the witness box.
“How unfortunate that poor Miss Carla Moorland cannot be with us today to let us know if your story about her is also an exaggeration.”
“I object, my Lord,” said Mr. Scott. “Sir Humphrey is harassing the witness.”
“I agree,” said the judge. “Tread more carefully in future, Sir Humphrey.”
“I apologize, my Lord,” said Sir Humphrey, sounding singularly unapologetic. He closed the file to which he had been referring and replaced it on the desk in front of him before taking up a new one. He opened it slowly, making sure all in the court were following every movement before he extracted a single sheet of paper.
“How many mistresses have you had since you were married to the second Mrs. Menzies?”
“Objection, my Lord. How can this be relevant?”
“My Lord, it is relevant, I respectfully suggest. I intend to show that this was not a business relationship that Mr. Menzies was conducting with Miss Moorland but a highly personal one.”
“The question can be put to the defendant,” ruled the judge.
Menzies said nothing as Sir Humphrey held up the sheet of paper in front of him and studied it.