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Argyll thanked him with more than a touch of sarcasm, and turned to Hester.
“Was Mrs. Farraline a pathetic little old lady, easily browbeaten, timid?”
“Not in the least,” Hester said with some relief. “She was quite the opposite: intelligent, articulate and very much in command. She had had a most interesting life, traveled a great deal and known some quite remarkable people and events.” She summoned the ghost of a smile. “She told me about dancing the night away at the great ball the night before the Battle of Waterloo. I found her brave, and wise, and funny … and … and I admired her.”
“Thank you, Miss Latterly. Yes, that is the opinion of her which I had formed myself. I imagine she also found you to be most worthy of her admiration. That is all I have to ask you. You may return to the dock for the time being.”
The judge adjourned the court. Newspaper reporters knocked each other over in their efforts to be first out of the door. The gallery erupted in noise, and the wardresses on both sides of Hester closed in on her and demanded that the cage be let down into the bowels of the building so that she might safely be locked up again before riot broke loose.
Monk walked the streets. Rathbone and Argyll sat up till long after midnight. Callandra sat with Henry Rathbone, and they talked of everything else they could imagine. And all of their thoughts were of nothing but Hester and what the morrow would bring.
Argyll rose to his feet.
“I call Hector Farraline to the stand.”
There was amazement in the gallery. Alastair rose to protest and was pulled back into his seat. It was useless, and Oonagh at least understood that. Alastair looked on in an agony of embarrassment.
Hector appeared and walked very slowly, his feet uncertain, his eyes wandering. He crossed the floor to the foot of the stairs up to the box.
“Do you need assistance, Mr. Farraline?” the judge inquired.
“Assistance?” Hector said with a frown. “What for?”
“To mount the steps, sir. Are you well?”
“Quite well, sir. And you?”
“Then take your place, sir, to be sworn in.” The judge looked at Argyll with acute disfavor. “I presume this is necessary, sir?”
“It is,” Argyll assured him.
“Very well, get on with it!”
Hector climbed the steps, was sworn in, and waited for Argyll to begin.
Gilfeather was watching intently.
“Major Farraline,” Argyll said courteously. “Were you in the house when Miss Latterly first arrived?”
“What? Oh … yes. Of course I was. I live there.”
“Did you see her arrive?”
Gilfeather rose. “My lord, Miss Latterly’s arrival is not in dispute. Surely this is irrelevant, and wasting the court’s time.”
The judge looked at Argyll, his eyebrows raised.
“I am coming to the point, my lord, if my learned friend will permit me,” Argyll replied.
“Then be a little more rapid, if you please,” the judge ordered.
“My lord. Major Farraline, did you see Miss Latterly moving about the house on that day?”
Hector looked confused. “Moving about? What do you mean … going up and down stairs, that sort of thing?”
Gilfeather rose again. “My lord, this witness is obviously not… not well! He is not competent to tell us anything of value. Of course Miss Latterly moved about the house. She could hardly have remained and not been seen the entire day. My learned friend is wasting time.”
“It is you who are wasting time,” Argyll countered. “I could get to my point a great deal faster if I were not constantly interrupted.”
