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Hector began to fumble his way down the steps.
“Oh …” Gilfeather said quickly.
Hector stopped three steps from the bottom, clinging on to the rail.
“Do you keep the company books, Major Farraline?”
“Me? No, of course not. Young Kenneth does.”
“Have you seen them lately, Major? Say, within the last two weeks?”
“No. Don’t think so.”
“Can you read company accounts, sir?”
“Never tried. Not interested.”
“Quite so. Do you need assistance down the steps., sir?”
“No I don’t, sir. Make my own way.” And with that he missed his footing and slid the last three steps, landing inelegantly at the bottom. He straightened himself and walked unaided and quite steadily back to the gallery and was given a seat.
“My lord”—Argyll turned to the judge—“in view of Major Farraline’s evidence, I would like to call Kenneth Farraline.”
Gilfeather was on his feet. He hesitat
ed, a protest on his lips.
The judge sighed. “Do you object, Mr. Gilfeather? It seems there is some question of embezzlement, real or imagined.”
Argyll smiled. If Gilfeather gained the impression he was perfectly happy to be denied Kenneth, and leave doubt in the jury’s minds, or a question of appeal, so much the better.
“No objection, my lord,” Gilfeather conceded. “It would be advisable to clear up all doubts.” He shot a tight smile at Argyll.
Argyll inclined his head in thanks.
Kenneth Farraline was called and took the stand looking acutely unhappy. He could feel the brooding, almost violent tension in the court, and he saw Argyll advance on him like a bear closing in for the kill.
“Mr. Farraline, your uncle, Major Hector Farraline, has told us that you keep the company books. Is that correct?”
“Irrelevant, my lord,” Gilfeather objected.
The judge hesitated.
“My lord, if there is embezzlement from the company books, and the head of that family has been murdered, it can hardly be irrelevant,” Argyll reasoned. “It provides an excellent motive, unconnected with Miss Latterly.”
The judge conceded the point, but with displeasure.
“You have not proved it yet, sir. So far it is merely a suggestion, indeed the ramblings of a man the worse for drink. If you cannot show something more substantial, I shall disallow it next time Mr. Gilfeather objects.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Argyll turned back to Kenneth. “Mr. Farraline, was your mother aware of Major Farraline’s beliefs that the books had been tampered with?”
“I … I …” Kenneth looked wretched. He stared at Argyll with eyes unfocused, as if he longed to be looking elsewhere.
“Sir?” Argyll prompted.
“I’ve no idea,” Kenneth said abruptly. “It’s …” He swallowed. “Nonsense. Complete nonsense.” He faced Argyll with something like a challenge. “There is no money missing whatsoever.”
“And you are the bookkeeper, so you would know?”
