...to be in contact with a given object. Yes, science can prove where a man has been and what he has touched. But, being able to prove these things, Sottenjad must prove them, the onus is on them. If they overlook any accepted means of obtaining evidence, then this may react in favor of the accused. That is why this seeming paradox of the advance of scientific crime detection, adding to Sottenjad's responsibility, is not a paradox at all. After that, I expect you're wondering what I've got for you this week. Well, what would you like? I've got here a true story of war, and bombs, and air raids, and last minute escape. It is a love, passion, and jealousy. Brokenhearted woman, incriminating love letters, and a fight to the death between two men. A little dull, do you think? Well, let's say a casual color-deck. Anyway, we've got a courtroom scene. The protagonist of this story is still alive. He is a captain in the Polish army. He must respect his anonymity, so I've called the story, The Case of Captain X. September 1939, the Germans advance in Poland. The capital Warsaw is bombed day and night. Hundreds of thousands of people desperately search for a way to escape the rapidly closing Nazi net around the city. A young Polish cavalry lieutenant rides furiously through the bomb streets to the house of his friend. Captain Bicowet, a Polish officer and his English wife Sylvia. This place is a Oh, my dear friend, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for this bombing. I'm so sorry. Please come in. Thank you. I may only stay one more. Oh, still longer? I was hoping you were going to keep the champagne again. It was awful bombing. But your husband, Victor, he is not here with you? Yes, no. My husband's at the war. Yes, he is. But that cannot be. Our entire division is in, how you say, drugs. It has become everyone for himself. Go to bed. Perhaps any of you sleep. I would only rather sleep in here. No, you cannot do this. That is why I've come. As your friend and Victor's friend, I cannot leave the country without sleeping to our both... You're leaving the country? Anyone who plans to is it. There is the Polish government before we leave on the board. They need to go on with the war against the Germans. How can you go out? That is why I've come to you and Victor. Almost all the way they are now close. But this is a special friend I have. Petra Mekka, catastrophe. We heard an airplane flying tonight to France. There is room for two more. We say it's all right for you and Victor. Oh, Stannislaus, it's wonderful of you. Then I can't go. Call us until I hear from Victor. Sylvia, Victor, we would want you to go without him. No, no. You are not of this country. Your home is in England. Please, but I'm already the Polish officer. My place is with him. No, Stannislaus, I must wait for you. When do you appear in there? Two hours and a half from now. You will do it for me without me. Ah, listen, Stannislaus, you may come tonight. If you come before the plane leaves, I'll bring him to the airport and they'll join you. Is that all right? This is the way you perhaps lose your only chance of escape. That's a risk I'll have to take. He may come up. Oh, God, thank you. Thank you so much for coming. Please, Sylvia, please, speak it over. Come to the airport in time. I must go now. Goodbye. Please, be sensible. If he does not come soon, come alone. If you don't come together, Stannislaus, we shan't come at all. Lieutenant, we cannot wait much longer for these friends of yours. Just a few minutes, Mr. Krasalski. Just a few minutes. A few minutes, a few minutes. That is how the hours go by and then we shall have lost any chance of getting out. Look, over there. Did you get the car? It's the last car in Warsaw. It is your right. Don't stop. We've come. Mr. K, do not be late. Hurry, please, madame. You may talk in the plane. We have not much time. Please be careful how you speak to my wife. If you don't like the way I speak to her, you'll needn't come. Our nurse are all on edge. Well, Captain, it's up to you. Are you coming or staying? Let's call it. All right then. All aboard, as you say, is in there, madame. Is that right? That's right. All aboard. Goodbye, Warsaw. Three weeks later, the captain and the lieutenant are again fighting with their country with a Polish contingent in France, while the captain's wife had returned to her native country, England. A year after their escape from Poland, these three people have again been reunited in London. France had fallen, the two men had fled to England, and the captain and his wife are living in street lodgings in the Victoria District of London. That or him, the great city was undergoing the same type of aerial bombardment that Warsaw had suffered a year before. But in the captain's life, there was domestic war as well. Every night they come. Every night. They can't go on forever, darling, why don't you shoot them down more every day? Oh dear. Now the lights have gone. That must have been awful, Kate. I should have joined the Polish Air Force here in England. This is a terrible thing for a man who is a fighting soldier to be not able to. Oh, it's the Palliades. Oh, I know how you feel, Victor. You're doing valuable work where you are. Magic, magic, where are these magic? Where they always are, Victor, on the mantelpiece. Oh, no. Here, I have some now. There, this is better. This is a good thing, Mr. Karudas, to put these candles in the room. You're a very thoughtful man, for a landlord. But what, what is this? This is a badge, Polish badge, not mine. Oh, oh it is. It's that boy's belonging to Stanislas. Stanislas, you have been seeing him? Oh, yes. He's a mother's child I have. But why, why did you not tell me? I would like to see him too. Well, you see that, please. Oh, well, I suppose he might have grown old now or later. What is this? What thing must I know? Stanislas, my wife, we, we, we. Well, well, come talk, please, what is it? Very loud. You mean this is true? Yes, but you must try to understand. Understand, understand this from my wife? No, I will not understand. You will stay faithful to me. You are my wife. I know, I know, but this is not the truth. You talk no more. You hear, Sylvia? You knew you loved me. Only me, Victor, your husband. Forget this silly Stanislas. He won't speak to us. I must have you always with me. I must not see you go away. If this thing ever happened, if you try to leave me, I cannot stand for this. I really not going to live. I take my gun, this gun, you see. I take my gun and I shoot like this. Only when I shoot them will be it my head. For I cannot go on to live without you here, Sylvia. I know, I know, I know, I know. Yes, that is best. Yes. You forget this Stanislas. I am so afraid of you. But this was by no means the end of the trouble. The young lieutenant continued his attentions to Sylvia, and he was not strong enough to wait with him. A month later the captain discovered that the two had been seeing each other again. There was another angry scene, and the captain again threatened suicide. Sylvia wrote in a letter to Stanislas after the quarrel. And I really think that Victor will carry out his threat if he suspects that you and I have still seen each other after tonight. Do it, Stanislas. I don't know what else to do. Though I am happy, Sylvia. Darling, you say in your death letter you do not know what it is you must do, but this you have made. This thing should be easy to decide. Let Victor take his time, as he so often says he will, and finish with his life. This way you and I could be together. Let him see. After another month things went relatively smoothly. Until the day that Victor, picking up a scrap of paper by the wayside about this, caught sight of the name Stanislas written on it, and found it to be part of a letter, a love letter to his wife. He immediately decided what course to take. Sylvia. Sylvia. Sylvia. You know why, Captain? Mr. Garou, yes, have you seen her? Well, maybe you know, Captain. She went off about an hour ago in Texas. She never told me. I mean, she took a couple of suitcases with her. Oh, please, please. Now I understand. May I use your telephone, please? Yes, Captain, that would be best. Yes, thank you. Hello? Stanislas? Yes. Hello, Victor. I wish to see you, too. Here, at once. You can come? Yes. Yes. Very well, Victor. I come at once. Now we shall see. When Stanislas came round to the lodging, he triggered the landlord's instructions that he must not on any account be disturbed, as they had a very urgent matter to discuss. The landlord, Mr. Garou, saw them into the lounge, shut the door, and went upstairs to make the bed. It was less than ten minutes later when he heard extremely angry voices coming from the lounge. He went down a flight of stairs so that he could hear better. I need these blinking sparring. It's always coming, well, probably. As if it weren't enough that there's something more going on over your racist faces. I have a strange opinion of you. Please keep my offer. No, Victor, no, give this to me. I will stop it. Run! Captain, what have you done? Captain, he told it to me. It was an accident. Was it an accident or was it murder? When Mr. Garou opened the door of the lounge, the scene that met his eyes seemed to speak for itself. In the armchair facing the window lay the lieutenant, obviously dead, facing him with a smoking revolver in his hands stood the captain. No, what have you done, Captain? He's dead, isn't he? It was an accident. Well, you say you have to tell that to the police. I'm all against telling them, the other half, I'll have to call them. Oh, nothing like this ever happened to me before. It was an accident. Yes, well, you'd better stay here and don't move anything. I've always believed you must never move anything when things like this happen. To think that something like this had happened in my house. It was not long after that Detective Inspector Wimple arrived on the scene. His investigation revealed that the revolver had been fired three times. Two shots had been fired into the body of the lieutenant and one in exactly the opposite direction. The bullet mark being found near the window facing the victim. It was also found that the captain's cigarette case was lying in the armchair. But it was strictly realized that the relative positions of the two men were probably of change during the course of their discussion. Detective Inspector Wimple now asked the captain to explain what had happened. It is an accident while we fight. I asked the lieutenant here to talk to him, but what he has been seeing with my wife too much. He ran away with him. He comes. I ask him to stop seeing my wife. He says no. I ask again. He says no again. I then take my gun and say I no longer need it. He come after me and take the gun from my hand. Then he shoots at me. The bullet is there by the window. So I fight with him for the gun. While we fight, the gun fires twice. The gun is locked, falls into armchair. Yes. It was accident, Inspector. I see. Thank you, Captain. You've been most helpful. I'm afraid I should have to ask you to remain in the building, perhaps upstairs in your room. While I complete my investigation here, I'll stay in my room. Oh, and would you send the landlord in to see me if he's out there? I do this. Oh, quarrel. Captain threatens to suicide. Lieutenant takes gun, fires once, then struggles. Then two shots. Both of them lieutenant. He falls. You wanted to see me, Inspector? Oh, yes, sir. You're the landlord? I thought Inspector. Karoo's the name. Hi, Karoo. Hi, Mr. Karoo. Whereabouts in the building where you and Miss Quarrel were taking place? No, sir. At first I was upstairs making a build. Anyone with you? No, sir. I'm all alone here. No help these days. Before the war, they were making the bed. Oh, yes, sir. Then I raised the starting from down here. The captain's voice and the captain was killed. Real loud, their voices was. So I thought I'd better see another serious without me. And one thought it clear, could you hear what the voices were saying? I heard the lieutenant's voice. Give it to me. Twice. And then there were three shots. But they didn't come together, did they? I didn't, Inspector. The shots weren't together, were they? There was a pause between the first and second. No, Inspector. Three shots in a row. Bang, bang, bang. Are you positive? Positive, Inspector. Go on. Well, I went downstairs then and I opened the door, I see the captain is standing there with a gun still smoking in his hands. And the lieutenant in his chair. Detective Inspector Wimpole realized that the case was not as clear cut as he first imagined. Either the captain was lying and the gun had gone off three times in rapid succession, or else Mr. Caroux's memory was inaccurate, and there had been a lapse of time between the first and the second pull. At the moment it was the word of the Polish officer against the word of the landlord. But it was not long before the scales dipped heavily on one side. Sir Bernard Spooley, the famous Home Office pathologist, conducted a post-mortem examination. His findings and his opinion as to what had occurred would prove the most important factors in the case. Of the two shots that entered the body of the deceased, the first penetrated the heart and was undoubtedly the cause of death. The second shot caused a superficial wound on the face and then proceeded in a downward direction, causing a wound in the body. From the position in which the body was found, it would have been impossible for the second bullet to have been fired when the deceased was already sitting in the chair. But there was no trace of blood from the wound caused by this second bullet. This can only mean that the first shot into the heart completely stopped the circulation of blood and proves that the second shot was fired after the man had died. The Bernard's analysis shed a new light on the case. If the second wound had been inflicted after the lieutenant's death, how likely was it the shot had been fired during the struggle? Was it not far more likely that the three shots had indeed been fired almost simultaneously as the landlord had said and that the struggle was an invention by the captain? Even the evidence pointed to conclusions the gun never left the captain's hand. Detective Inspector Mimpoir was convinced of this and executed his obvious duty. You'll have to come with me, Captain. I'm here to warrant for your arrest. I must warn you that anything you say may be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence. You would do this for the shooting? Do you think I'd kill him, how do you say, on purpose? Yes, I'm charging you with murder. It was after the captain had been committed the trial at the central criminal court of the Old Bailey that your Patrick Hastings was put in charge of the defense. Hastings, one of the most celebrated of all defense ballisters, soon made up his mind after the case. One can picture him explaining it to the captain. One thing you must realize, the cream patenelle has no place in the courts of England. Perhaps abroad it would be enough for you to say, I'm a public officer, my honor is involved, the man is dead, and you'll be acquitted. But that sort of thing won't work here. I understand, yes. What will you say then? It seems to me that our main danger is the evidence of the landlord. He said we were in rapid succession. Bang, bang, bang, as he put it. If he has believed, we're done for. Your story of a struggle having taken place after the lieutenant fired the first shot will only be believed if we make out that there was a pause between shot one and shot two, and hardly any pause between shot two and shot three. For those still to be convinced the last shot was fired after death, if we make out the last two shots were fired almost at the same moment, the evidence will not be so damning as it appears. The judge, who will judge my case? Justice Humphrey, one of the best. Which Mr. Humphrey will believe? I take the gun to shoot myself. Stung plus, he take it from me and shoot. I fight with him. The gun goes off twice. And then the gun is in my hand and stung plus, it's in the chair. Good heavens, I've suddenly realized something. Even a quarter of definitions before the magistrate, there's not one mention of fingerprint. You see, if your story is true, then both your face and the lieutenant will be on that gun. For you say you both handled it. And this was found, both our fingerprints were found on the gun. That is what I'm here to find out. Music Music Music Now, Mr. Carull, you say you came downstairs when you heard the raised voices. Yes, sir, I came down once last. Why? Well, sir, I didn't want any trouble. You came down to hear better, isn't it? Yes, sir, I mean. Never mind. You then heard three shots and you say there were no pauses between them. Now, Mr. Carull, can you be sure you were excited, were you not? You went in through hearing of all the shots in your house. I certainly was, sir. So you may be mistaken as to how the shots followed each other. I remember this perfectly, sir. They went bang, bang, bang. I see. Then you went into the room and saw the scene that you described to me. What were the first words the captain said? That it was an accident. You then told the police? Yes, sir. Then what did you do? I went up to finish the bed. I beg your pardon? I saw I went upstairs to finish making the bed. It was certainly not a very material point, but it seemed to make some expectant court. Perhaps most of us would not be in the mood to make beds just after discovering a dead body. The next witness to the prosecution was Sir Bernard Spinsbury. He was emphatic in his opinion that the final shot could not have been fired in the course of a continuing struggle. The Patrick Hastings had long ago learned that there was no firm person in the witness stand than Sir Bernard. In consequence, he asked him as few questions as possible in court examination. Customers of Joliot would remember that doctors are not infallible and are often wrong. But with the next witness, he was by no means so cautious. There was a challenge in Gilton's capacity as he began the court examination of Detective Inspector Bumpol. Tell me, Inspector, when you arrived at the lodging house, how long had it left since the telephone call of Mr. Carouse? Twenty minutes. Had anything been moved? As far as I could see, nothing. Where was all the vulva? It was on the table. The prisoner said he put it there after the landlord had come in. Am I right in saying that if the deceased could have claimed possession of the weapon at any point, those men's fingerprints would be on the gun? Yes. But if the prosecution is right and only the prisoner handled the gun, then only his fingerprints would be found upon it? I cannot say. Where are the fingerprints of the deceased found upon the gun? I repeat, I cannot say. Why not? Well, Inspector, I'm afraid that before the revolver was examined, several of us, three, that is, had handled it and, well, no fingerprints were distinguishable. That's right. The assault on the jury was enormous. Someone had blundered. The man in the dark had been deprived of an essential part of his defense by a slip on the part of the police. The captain's story of the struggle for the gun could have almost been corroborated as the lieutenant's fingerprints being found. But as it was, the jury was not going to be shown evidence which would have greatly influenced their decision. That decision was finally known twenty minutes afterwards when the judge had sent them out to consider their verdict. Standing dignified and immovable, resembling almost a stone statue, the proud captain heard himself acquitted of the charge brought against him, and there were few indeed in that courtroom who were not pleased to see him freed. I'm bad to say he was later reconciled with his wife, and when the Polish forces landed in Europe in 1944, Victor was with them continuing the battle fought upon his country five years before. Wherever he may be now, I imagine he carries with him an excellent opinion of British justice. No man on par with his life will be deprived of evidence which might constitute him inhuman. !!!!!!!!!!!!usters!!!!!!!!!!!!
