‘Well, the corpse was on its back, and the knife lay on its chest and the glove by it.’
Carey paused to let this picture sink in. ‘Someone had carefully put them there, in other words,’ he said.
‘I dinna ken.’
‘Well, they could hardly have dropped so neatly by accident, could they?’
Lowther shrugged. Carey waited a moment to see if he would say anything else, then continued.
‘Now when you found my servant Barnabus Cooke, where was he?’
‘In yer chambers.’
‘At the Keep?’
‘Ay.’
‘What did he say when you accused him?’
‘I didnae understand because he spake braid London,’ said Lowther.
Probably just as well, thought Carey. ‘Did he say anything you understood?’
‘He lied.’
‘What did he actually say?’
‘He said he didnae do it. But he...’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I arrested him.’
‘Barnabus, stand forward,’ Carey said and Barnabus took a step out of the group of accused. ‘Is this the man you arrested?’
‘Ay.’
‘Tell me, how did his face come to be so battered?’
Lowther shrugged and wouldn’t answer. There was a certain amount of muttering among the public, none of whom were naïve.
‘Who else was in my chambers?’
Lowther shrugged again. ‘A boy,’ he said.
‘In fact, Simon Barnet, Cooke’s nephew.’
‘If you say so, Sir Robert.’
‘Is it true that you tried to get into my office and Barnet prevented you, so you beat him as well?’
‘Nay. He was insolent.’
‘Did Lady Scrope then come and order you out of my chambers which you were preparing to search?’
‘Ay.’
‘Did you, in fact, threaten her as well?’
‘Nay,’ said Lowther. ‘She threatened me.’
Scrope blinked gravely at Lowther. ‘You hadn’t mentioned this, Sir Richard,’ he said reproachfully, which was why Carey had brought it up. Lowther cleared his throat and Aglionby put out a repressive hand. Scrope subsided.
‘Now, Sir Richard,’ said Carey. ‘Apart from a knife and a glove laid carefully on the corpse, did you have any other reason at all for accusing Barnabus Cooke?’
‘The man’s throat was cut. Yon’s a footpad’s trick.’
‘Is there no other man in Carlisle who can use a knife?’ Carey asked, rhetorically.
‘It’s a footpad’s trick,’ repeated Lowther doggedly.
‘So you actually had no other evidence or reason for thinking that Barnabus Cooke had killed Atkinson?’
Go on, thought Carey, I dare you; I dare you to say you thought I’d told him to do it. For a moment he was sure Lowther would say it, but in fact he did not, he simply stood there with his arms folded and a sour expression on his face.
‘Thank you, Sir Richard.’
Carey made a gesture of dismissal and the Coroner nodded that Lowther could go.
