Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 100, Nos. 4 & 5. Whole Nos. 603 & 604, October 1992

“Seems a perfectly reasonable thing to do,” I said to Mr. Pontefract, in what I hoped was an audible mutter.

“Did you say something, Mr. Rumpole?” the judge inquired coldly. I heaved myself to my feet.

“I just wondered, my Lord, does the fact that a man measures his toast mean that he’s not entitled to dispose of his property exactly as he likes?”

At this, the old sweetheart on the bench decided to do his best to polish up my manners.

“Mr. Rumpole,” he said. “Your turn will come later. Mr. Guthrie Featherstone is cross-examining. In the Chancery Division we consider it improper to interrupt a cross-examination, unless there’s a good reason to do so.”

Of course I bowed low, and said, “If your Lordship pleases. As a rank outsider I am, of course, delighted to get your Lordship’s instructions on the mysteries of the Chancery Division.” I supposed old Venables thought that down the Old Bailey we interrupted opponents by winking at the jury and singing sea shanties. It was then my turn to subside and let Featherstone continue.

“Let me ask you something else, Matron. Colonel Ollard had fought, had he not, at the battle of Anzio?”

“That was where he won his Military Cross,” said Miss Beasley, with some understandable pride in the distinction of her late patient.

“Yes, of course. Very commendable.”

That was a tribute, of course, coming from Featherstone. I seemed to remember that he did his military service in the Soldiers’ Divorce Division.

Then Featherstone asked another question. “Matron,” he purred with his usual charm, “did Colonel Ollard tell you that he had frequently discussed the battle of Anzio with the Prime Minister, the late Sir Winston Churchill?”

“I know that Sir Winston was always interested in Colonel Ollard’s view of the war, yes.” Miss Beasley sounded proud, and even the judge looked impressed.

“And that he had also discussed it with Field-Marshal Lord Montgomery of Alamein?”

“Colonel Ollard called him ‘Bernard.’ ”

“And with the then Soviet leader, Mr. Stalin. Did Colonel Ollard call him ‘Joseph’?” Oh dear, I sighed to myself, things were becoming grim when Featherstone tried to make a funny.

“No. He always called him ‘Mr. Stalin,’ ” Miss Beasley answered primly.

“Very respectful. If I may say so.” Featherstone gave the judge a chummy little smile and then turned back straight-faced to the witness.

“You know he told Nurse Waterhouse, one morning last October, that he had been talking to Sir Winston, Lord Montgomery, and Mr. Stalin the evening before. Does that surprise you?” I had the awful feeling that Featherstone had struck gold. There was a sudden silence in Court as Pontefract and I held our breath, waiting for Matron’s answer.

When it came, it was a simple, “No.”

“You say it doesn’t surprise you, Miss Beasley?” Venables, J., leaned forward, frowning unpleasantly.

“Not in the least, my Lord.” The answer was positively serene. I wanted to tell the Judge not to interrupt the cross-examination, after all, we didn’t do that sort of thing in the Chancery Division. But Featherstone, as he went on, was doing quite well, even without a little help from the judge.

“Nurse Waterhouse will also say that Colonel Ollard told her that he had been chatting to Alexander the Great, the Emperor Napoleon, and the late duke of Marlborough,” my opponent suggested.

“Well, of course he would, you know.” Miss Beasley smiled back at him.

“He would say that because he was suffering from mental instability?”

“Of course not!” The witness was outraged. “The colonel had as much mental stability as you or I, Mr. Featherstone.”

“Speak for yourself, Miss Beasley.” Oh, very funny, Featherstone, I thought. What a talent! He ought to go on the Halls.

“Why did you say that the colonel would speak to those gentlemen?” Featherstone asked for clarification.

“Because they were all keenly interested in his subject,” Miss Beasley explained, as though to a rather backward two-year-old.

“Which was?”

“Military matters.”

“Oh, military matters. Yes. Of course.” Featherstone paused, and then asked politely, “But all the names I have mentioned, Churchill and Montgomery, Marlborough and Napoleon, Stalin and Alexander the Great. They’re all dead, aren’t they, Matron?”

“Yes, indeed. But that wouldn’t have worried the colonel.” She gave the Opposition Leader a patient smile. “Colonel Ollard was most sympathetic to people who were ill. Being dead wouldn’t have put him off at all.”

“But did the colonel think he could talk to those deceased gentlemen?”

“Oh yes. Of course he could.”

As Pontefract and I began to see the last will of Colonel Ollard going up in smoke, the judge said, “You really believe that, Miss Beasley?”

I must say the answer that Matron gave was not particularly helpful. She merely looked at the judge with some pity and said, “You could talk to the Emperor Napoleon, my Lord. If you were a believer.”

“A believer, Miss Beasley?” No doubt a churchwarden and chairman of the Parish Council, the judge looked more than a little irked by her reply.