How do you do? This is Clive Brook. There was a Roman proverb which said, a woman's jealousy sets the whole house on fire. Now the status of the fair sex has changed a great deal since the days of ancient Rome. And a woman's reasons for jealousy in the 20th century are far fewer. Gone is the legal description of her as goods and chattel. No longer need she envy the male his ability to vote. She can vote too. Today she can go out into the world and have a career. She can earn a lot of money and pay a lot of income tax. She can even wear trousers in more ways than one. She can even wear shorts. Well, let's not go into that. On the other hand, she can still be jealous about another woman and the strength of her jealousy then can still set the house on fire. The green-eyed monster still has the power to bring tragedy into her life and the lives of her nearest and dearest. Yes, even today, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And of course, it never really matters whether she is being scorned or not. If she thinks she is, that's enough. It was enough in the case I'm going to tell you about today. The case of a beautiful society queen who thought her lover was being unfaithful. The case that puzzled the experts of Scotland Yard and provided one of the most sensational old Bailey trials of the 1930s. There can be only one title for it. The case of the green-eyed monster. It is the evening on May the 30th, 1932. From one of the flats in Williams Mews, London, comes the sound of a very gay cocktail party. The houses are in such close proximity that you might at first wonder in which of the flats the party was being given. But of course, anyone living in the Mews would be quick to tell you the hostess is bound to be Mrs. Varney. Mrs. Elvira Dolores Varney, the brightest of the bright young things of London in the 30s. I say wonderful party this, don't you think? Yes, it seems to be going quite well. Our hostess would appear to have an unlimited quantity of drink. I can't say I admire her taste in furniture, though. Why? What's wrong with it? Rather gaudy, don't you think? Rather bad taste, I'd say. Do you know who your hostess is? Some Mrs. Varney, isn't it? Yes, but I don't know who she is. I don't know who she is. I don't know who she is. I don't know who she is. I don't know who she is. I don't know who she is. I don't know who she is. I don't know who she is. I don't know who she is. Oh, I say, Maury, you should never have brought me. I just made the most frightful gaffe. I never realized who this Barney woman was, and I was talking to her just now. Really, Gerald? Not no Dolly Barney. I thought everyone knew her. She's extremely beautiful. Yes, dear, and extremely rich. But I'm afraid your prospects of success are practically new where she's concerned. Dolly has eyes for no one, but the young man she's talking to now is a very good man. Dolly has eyes for no one, but the young man she's talking to now, Michael Stevens. Looks to me as though they're having a quarrel. She keeps him on the end of the string, Gerald. Do you realize we're practicing last people here? Come on, we must go. Goodbye, Dolly. We must go now, Dolly. It's been delightful. I'm very glad you enjoyed it, Maury. Give me a ring sometime. Goodbye, Mrs. Barney. Goodbye. I say, can I give anybody a lift in my car? How about you, Mr. Stevens, isn't it? Thank you. Michael. I'm very glad you enjoyed it, aren't you? I want to give you that book you lent me. Right you are, Dolly. Oh, dear. See, I put my foot in it again. Well, cheerio. Come on, Jill. All gone at last. Who was that oak who offered you a lift? Never seen him before in my life. Never mind him. I got to know what you meant by spending the whole evening talking to that Janet. Janet, whatever her name is. Why shouldn't I talk to her? You're not in love with her by any chance. Really, Dolly, are you being absurd? You asked me to your party. Wasn't I supposed to talk to your guest? I know that you say guest in the plural. I didn't see you talking to anyone but her. You made me look an absolute fool. You seem to think you can own me or something. I practically do. Who paid for that very smart gin and ginner jacket, I should like to know? Who slips you a few pounds so you won't be embarrassed by my paying at the restaurant we go to? Who teased you that you get the hundred and one little things just on the news about me? Really, Dear Dolly, you can visit your lucky cent so I could teach a kid your lesson, but don't follow your trick. How would I know that you've chosen a monk getting from by son or by daughter? You know my Oh, Dolly! Let me help you have some more pickle! Oh,esides, do have aANG FB goin' through No, darling, don't! Let me have it! No, darling! Michael! Michael, are you hurt? Michael! Michael! The doctor! It's the doctor! Hurry, darling, hurry! Yes, darling, I'm ringing him. Oh, Michael, darling! The doctor! Thank you for me, darling, please, the doctor! Hello, Dr. Barrett? Doctor, it's Mrs. Barrett speaking. Stop it, you must come, come on! When Dr. Durrant arrived at Mrs. Barrett's flat, he found Michael Stevens dead. His body was lying on the first floor landing, his head supported by two bloodstained pillows. The left arm was outstretched and the right lay across the body, and the floor close to the left hand was a small black revolver. The doctor moved nothing and immediately called the police in spite of the shrieking protests of Mrs. Barrett. It was not long before Detective Inspector Winter was on the scene. He brought with him the famous pathologist, Sir Bernard Spillsbury, who proceeded to examine the body. Leaving Sir Bernard at his task, Winter went downstairs to the lounge to ask Mrs. Barrett a few questions. Now, Mrs. Barrett, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you one or two things. Give me a cigarette, will you? Certainly. Had a party tonight. Guests smoked me out. Light? Thanks. What do you want to know? Well, firstly, perhaps the name of the deceased. He's a friend of mine, Michael Stevens. Now tell me quite calmly exactly what happened. Why should I? Get out here, you snooping wretch. Get out, do you hear me? Get out! Now, Mrs. Barrett, I know you're upset. I'm upset? That's a pine way of putting it. What would you say? Excuse me, I'll answer it if you don't mind. Why should you answer it? It's still my cat, isn't it? Hello? No, Inspector Winter has dropped in the yard. Oh, Lady Mallory. I'm afraid your daughter can't speak to you at the moment. You vile scummy! It's my mother! Here, give me that thing. Let me speak to her. Hello. Mommy? Mommy darling? You must come at once. They're trying to take me away! Go away! Now, Mrs. Barrett, you must stop this. Give me the receiver. That's right. Now that you know that my mother is Lady Mallory, perhaps you'll be a bit more careful what you say and do. I'm sorry. If you can't answer my questions calmly, I'll have to take you along to the station. Come along now. Please don't make any trouble. Take your filthy hands off me! Don't you dare try and touch me again! I shouldn't behave like this if I were you, Mrs. Barrett. It won't look too good in the report. Come now. The less trouble you make, the sooner we'll be through. Delory's Barney calmed down considerably at the police station and gave Inspector Winter her version of what had occurred. She admitted ownership of the pistol and said she kept it behind a cushion on the chair by her bed. She'd had a quarrel that night with Stevens about another woman and had threatened to commit suicide. Stevens, to prevent her carrying out the threat, had taken a revolver from its hiding place and gone to the door. Mrs. Barney had followed him. I followed him and then I remember struggling with him and suddenly I I heard a shot. Then he asked for the doctor. Now, Mrs. Barney, you've been very cooperative and I'm going to allow you to return home. But first I want to ask you this. You say a struggle took place after Stevens took the gun from his hiding place. It was quite a violent struggle. Yes. Where did it take place? First of all in my bedroom, then in the spare room. And when the revolver went off, who was holding it? Look, I'm done in. Have you a cigarette on you? Oh, sorry, yes. Here you are. Now it's very important. Try to remember if you can. Thanks. Who was holding it? Why, Michael was. He had it all the time. I was trying to get it away from him. I see. Thank you, Mrs. Barney. Your mother's waiting outside. You may go with her. The next step was to examine the report by Sir Bernard Spillsbury. As always in shooting cases, the pathologist first gave his findings and then completed his report with a theory as to the way in which death occurred. Sir Bernard's theory did not quite fall in with Mrs. Barney's story. The absence of scorching on the clothing around the bullet track together with the distribution of smoke indicate that the weapon was fired between three and six inches from the chest. Stevens must have been standing up as the blood flowed from the chest wound down the front of the body. In a standing position, it would have been extremely difficult for him to hold the weapon in the position necessary to produce this injury. It is far more probable that the butt was held by another person, and it seems unlikely that Stevens was holding even a barrel, for if he had been, his fingers and hand would have been blackened by the discharge. In fact, it seems extremely unlikely to me that Stevens was holding or touching the weapon in any way when he received the injury. It was obvious that either Sir Bernard's theory of the shooting was mistaken or else Delore Barney was lying. Inspector Winter returned to the scene of the crime intent on finding a clue to show that a struggle had taken place. While at Mrs. Barney's flat, he noticed that although the drawing room was a shambles, obviously due to the cocktail party, the bedroom and the spare room where Mrs. Barney had said the struggle had taken place was remarkably tidy. Inspector Winter made a phone call. Hello, is that the morgue? Ah, Detective Inspector Winter here. Yes, the Michael Stevens case. You have the list of effects? The clothes? No, no, no, don't bother to read it out. Only one item interests me at present. What sort of shoes was he wearing? I see. You'd say that if wearing those shoes he'd had a struggle in a room with a linoleum floor covering, he'd have left some marks, scratches or something? Definitely would have left marks. I see. All right, thank you. Goodbye. And yet there isn't a slightest scratch. Inspector Winter realized that there was to be no cut and dried solution to this case. Had Dolores Barney really threatened suicide? What was the reason for the quarrel? Who had been holding the gun? Had there been a struggle? If the answers of these questions couldn't be found at the scene of the crime, perhaps they'd be revealed in the examination of the habits and past conduct of the glamorous hostess and her young friend. The celebratory loving Mrs Barney was going to have a full share of the limelight. Detective Inspector Winter, searching for anything that might throw light on the shooting of Michael Stevens, began inquiring into the victim's past relations with Dolly Barney. In the course of his inquiry he discovered that the police had been called to the lady's flat twice in the past month. Once when neighbors complained of drunkenness and noise from people leaving the flat, and once when Mrs Barney herself would call them to get rid of Stevens who had refused to leave her flat when she asked. Winter found some other interesting evidence from one of Mrs Barney's more observant neighbors, Mrs Hall, a shopper's wife. Well, there was a time about 10 days ago when there was a dreadful quarrel going on. Their voices could be heard all over the square, I should think. Anyway, when the row was over, the young man, Stevens, was leaving the flat. That Mrs Barney leaned out of the window, shouting and screaming. She was only half dressed, Inspector, and then she fired her gun at him. And can you remember what it was that she shouted? Yes, Inspector, it was unusual enough for it to stick in my mind. Just before she fired, she shouted, laugh baby, laugh for the last time. For the last time. Now, on that night that Mr Stevens was actually killed, did you hear anything unusual? Oh yes, indeed. Well, no, that's just the point. It's not at all unusual. They were so awful shouting at each other, you see. Yes, but was there anything particular that either of them said that you remember? I heard Mrs Barney scream, I will shoot you. I will shoot you. Thank you, Mrs Hall. Detective Inspector Winter realized that if Mrs Hall's statement was accurate, the theory of attempted suicide, struggle, and accidental death was scarcely tenable. Once more he returned to the flat, and once more his search was not in vain. Near the ceiling of one of the bedroom walls, he found the mark of a bullet. Now, one of the neighbors, a Mr Kiff, had claimed that he heard two shots on the fatal night, and the bullet mark seemed to substantiate this evidence, and throw further down on Mrs Barney's story. By now the case was a sense of the conversation of London. Dolly Barney's many friends at last had something really exciting to talk about. ...the whole of her private life displayed for the entertainment of the public. What's that, Dolly? No, but did you see the evening paper? I see that a headline across the front page. Where is it now? Oh, here we are. Police find love letter from shooting victim. I must say he seems to be very fond of her. Listen to this. Take care of yourself for me, cause you are mine. Forgive me all the dreadful things I've done, baby. I wonder what he was referring to. Hey, Mark! Hey, Mark! This is Barney Orestes charged with murder. Hey, Mark! All the ladies in Barney case, hey, Mark! The first time I've ever known someone who's been arrested for murder. A spotless soda, please. Well, of course I didn't know her well, but I was at her party the night that it happened. Ha ha, it's all a good party too. I remember she was keeping her eye on this chap Stephen the whole time. Don't remember much else. Her drinks were rather strong. I say it'd be rather exciting if she goes to the old Bailey, won't it? Well, cheerio. On examining Mrs. Barney after her arrest, the prison doctor found several bruises on her arms, and one large recent bruise on her right thigh. This was, of course, evidence for the defense in supporting her story of the struggle. Little new evidence was brought forward at the police court inquiry, the result of which was that Dolly Barney was committed for trial at the old Bailey. The trial took place on July the 4th, 1932. On that hot summer's day, every inch of space in the courtroom was occupied, mainly by fashionably dressed young ladies who behaved throughout as if they were witnessing the first night of a review. rather than the fight of a woman for her life. The Percival Clark, opening for the Crown, scored heavily with his first two witnesses, the Bernard Spillsbury and the firearms expert Mr. Churchill. Both men were firm in their doubts of a struggle having taken place, but Sir Patrick Hastings for the defense found early support for his client's explanation when he cross-examined Detective Inspector Winter. Will you agree that if one person handled a gun and fired it, his fingerprints would be found upon him? Yes, Sir Patrick. But if there was a struggle and both parties handled a gun, no fingerprints would be clearly desirable. That is correct. When you went to the accused's flat, did you examine the revolver for fingerprints? I did. And did you find only one set of fingerprints clearly defined? Yes, my own, no others. And yet you handled the revolver with great care? Yes. Much weight was put by the prosecution on the evidence of Mrs. Hall, the shopper's wife, who said on the 19th of May Mrs. Barney had leaned out of the window, fired her revolver at Michael Stevens. No opposition was made to this evidence until Sir Patrick Hastings called the prisoner. Every neck in court craned forward. Every eye followed her as Dolores Barney left the dock and walked across to the witness box. With a wardrobes on either side of her, she looked a lonely and pitiful creature as she took the oath. When she looked up, the first person she saw was her mother. For a moment the hushed court thought that she was about to break down. But under Sir Patrick's gentle guidance, he was soon giving her evidence quietly and calmly. Now Mrs. Barney, I want you to cast your mind back to the first occasion on which you fired the revolver on May the 19th, ten days before Stevens was killed. But first of all, tell the court this. Was not one of the causes of unhappiness between you and Michael Stevens the fact that he used to go out with a certain person and gamble? Yes, I didn't like him doing it. That particular person was a woman? Yes. When Stevens wanted money for these occasions, whom did he come and ask for it? He asked me. On this evening, on May the 19th, did he call up to your window and ask for money? Yes, and I refused to give it to him. And then what did you do? We had a quarrel earlier in the day about this woman. I was so unhappy about it that I thought I'd make him think I was going to commit suicide. So I fired the revolver. Did you fire the revolver at Stevens? No, I fired just anywhere at random in my room. Then I realized that he might think I was dead, so I went to the window and leaned out. He saw me and nothing more happened that night. When was the bullet mark made that was found on your bedroom wall? On that occasion. This seemed quite a plausible explanation of the bullet mark and was consistent with Mrs. Barney's alleged threat to commit suicide. But even if the jury believed her story, a great deal more would have to be done before they'd forget the evidence of the experts concerning the firing of the gun ten days later on May the 30th when Stevens was killed, or the evidence of Mrs. Hall, who said she heard the prisoner shouting, I will shoot you, during the quarrel that night. Sir Patrick proceeded to take his client through her story of that fatal quarrel. It was exactly the story she had told the police. And then I remember struggling with him, and suddenly I heard a shot. Have you ever in your life desired to shoot Michael Stevens? No, never. Did you shoot him that night? No. Have you any motive for shooting him? Of course not. Did he speak to you before he died? He said, I wish the doctor would hurry. I want to tell him that it was an accident and that it wasn't your fault. He repeated it over and over again. This ended the evidence for the defence. It's as much for Mrs. Barney that she stuck to her original story to the end. The Percival Clark for the Crown cross-examined her with great thoroughness. Not one point did he let slip by without questioning. I suggest that you fire at him on May the 19th from your window. No, I fired in my room just to frighten him, to make him think I would commit suicide. Ten days later on May the 30th, after the party, you had a violent quarrel with him. You were jealous of his behaviour, were you not? Yes, I threatened to kill myself. Then why did you say during the quarrel, I will shoot you? I never said that. Do you dare to deny that you said, or rather shouted, those words? I might have said, I will shoot myself, but never I will shoot you. After the cross-examination, worn out and in tears, Dolores Barney returned to the dock to await the final stages of the trial. He must have been depressed to hear the logical and forceful argument that the prosecution presented in its closing speech to the jury. And then there was this quarrel. The man said he would leave her, leave her for that other woman. What is more likely to make a woman lose her control of herself? There is not the slightest doubt that the revolver, when fired, was in Mitty Barney's hand, and that it was her finger that was on the trigger. Furthermore, if the hand of the deceased was on the gun when it was fired, his hand must have been blackened. And yet we know that his hands were found to be clean. Everything points to the fact that she believed her lover to be going to some other woman, and that she fired in that attitude of mind towards him that amounts to murder. Sir Patrick Hastings now rose to make his final plea for the defence. He pointed out how unsure the neighbours had been as to the exact words and noises they'd heard on May the 30th, and how Mrs. Barney had been consistent in her tale from beginning to end. And finally he casts corn on the theory of the prosecution that there had been no struggle. I ask you, is it likely that a tall, muscular man like Stevens would let a fragile woman shoot him, standing three inches in front of him, without raising a finger to defend himself? No one has given evidence to show that Michael Stevens was not shot in the way Mrs. Barney says he was. Further, members of the jury, if anyone had come into this court and said that the revolver was not likely to go off in a struggle, I would have asked him to take it, load it, and struggle for it with one of the ushers. Would he have said, yes, it is quite safe? No, he would have said, no, thank you, let the two ushers go and struggle between themselves. I am not going to ask you for the benefit of the doubt, or for a lenient view of what has happened. I claim that on the evidence Mrs. Barney is entitled, as of right, to have verdict in her favor. Mr. Justice Humphreys summed up the case to the jury in his impartial way, and then sent them out to consider which of three verdicts they should return, guilty of murder, guilty of manslaughter, or not guilty of any offense. For two hours the courtroom buzzed with a chatter of the spectators. I say, Maude, did you realize that we've been in on this case from beginning to end? Yes, rather, Gerald. Why, I've been dining out for weeks on the fact that I was at Dolly's last party. What do you think the jury will say? I thought the judge was against her, didn't you? No, I couldn't make out whether he thought her guilty or merely immodest. I saw a wonderful film last night at the Polytechnic in Regent Street, and halfway through I thought that Dolly ought to have seen it too. Why? What film was it? The Man I Killed. Gerald, can I give you a lift after this is over? No, dear, I shall have the dash home and change. I'm going to Elk's celebration party tonight. Oh, I haven't been invited. What's she celebrating? Well, she hopes the release of Dolly Barney. Oh, I think that's just asking for trouble. What if Dolly is convicted? Oh, then I suppose we'll celebrate something else. It's usually something. Oh, here comes the jury. Members of the jury, are you agreed upon your verdict? We are. Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty of murder? We find her not guilty. Silence in court. Members of the jury, do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty of manslaughter? Not guilty. Bravo! It seems your LC will have something to celebrate our proud, Gerald. Rather, Dolly good showy. I say, look, Dolly Barney's pink. And thus ended the case of the beautiful Dolores Barney, whose worst fault was her jealousy. In this connection, it's interesting to read one of her letters to Stevens, written after an earlier quarrel. In it she says, don't be too jealous with me, baby, please. If you trust me, you won't need to feel jealous. Jealousy absolutely ruined my marriage, and it leads to all kinds of misery. You do be a bit broad-minded. I won't let you down. What a pity she couldn't have taken her own advice. But then that's something very few of us are able to do. And, incidentally, even fewer can resist the green-eyed monster when he tempts us. Well, that's all for now, but I'll be back again soon to tell you some more of the secrets of Scotland Yard. Meanwhile, this is Clybrooke saying goodbye and pleasant dreams. Thank you for watching.
