Landed Gently by Alan Hunter

Old Bailey, once at Lewes, and once at the Bow Street Magistrates’ Court. So you see, in a manner of speaking we are old acquaintances.’
    Gently nodded dubiously. ‘In a manner of speaking …’
    ‘More so, perhaps, than you think, Mr Gently.’
    Was there a smile playing round that thin-lipped mouth?
    ‘As you are perhaps aware, there are few situations which reveal a man’s character and personality so strongly as the occupancy of a witness-box. This is true at any level, but particularly true where such a grave matter as homicide is in question, and where the witness has a great deal of sometimes complex evidence to give, in the teeth of ruthless attacks by the defence counsel. Those are the times which try men’s souls, Mr Gently. They bring to the surface all the strengths and weaknesses, the virtues, the vices, in a phrase, the naked ego of a man. One sometimes sees one’s friends as one would not wish to see them.’
    ‘I trust I didn’t expose myself too much …’ Gently stirred uneasily.
    ‘On the contrary – quite on the contrary. It was by being able to observe you in these circumstances that I became so strongly impressed with your personality, Mr Gently. I am not a man who impresses easily. By education and avocation I have learned to treat my fellow men with the greatest reserve and, I am afraid, distrust. But in your case I felt an immediate confidence . I felt that there stood a man with a deep and – may I say it? – compassionate understanding of human failings and follies. I felt this so powerfully that I made a point of being present at other times when you were likely to be called, and when I learned that you were visiting the neighbourhood, I took immediate steps to become personally acquainted. I felt, in a sense, that the hand of providence was in the circumstance.’
    Somerhayes paused, watching Gently from theshadow of the wing. The glass of port in his hand glowed ruddily in the fitful firelight, and the same illumination made a livid mask of one side of his face. Gently shrugged an indifferent shoulder.
    ‘It’s a great pity somebody jogged the hand of providence.’
    Somerhayes laughed softly. ‘In a way, yes. But only in a way. Even this unhappy tragedy is subject to the point of view. And what makes you so certain that the hand was jogged, Mr Gently? Could it not have moved deliberately, when a certain propitious assembly of factors was complete?’
    ‘An assembly of factors …’ Gently’s eyebrows rose.
    ‘I call it that. You must consider me as being a fatalist.’
    ‘Me … I’m just a realist.’
    ‘That is your privilege, Mr Gently.’
    ‘I can see it in only one way. A young man who I liked has been killed … literally, on the threshold of life.’
    Somerhayes’s head dropped a little. ‘I, also, was fond of Lieutenant Earle.’
    ‘By way of corollary, there’s a killer at large.’
    ‘And killers must be stopped – you are talking to one who has heard all the arguments. Yet consider a little, Mr Gently. The ways of providence are not our ways. A young man is killed. Another life must be given for his. Will you say outright that the event is devoid of pattern, and that a meaningless brutality has taken place and will take place? I do not believe you can be sopositive. I believe there may be a point of view which, if it does not justify, will at least explain the occurrence and give it significance. We may not need to be divine to understand the workings of divinity.’
    Somerhayes raised his glass and drank, and having lowered the glass, looked at it intently for a few moments as though giving Gently time to appreciate the point.
    ‘And you think you have this … point of view?’
    Somerhayes nodded slowly. ‘To a limited extent, perhaps.’
    ‘And you wouldn’t mind explaining it to me?’
    ‘I’m not sure that I can, Mr Gently, though it may be that you are the one man who could understand it. But it is very difficult, and very complex.’
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