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“But surely the train arrives in London long before that?” he interrupted.
“Long before,” she agreed. “She had been detained by Mrs. Farraline’s death, and advising the conductor, and then the stationmaster, and finally by speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch. She came straight from the station to my house, tired and deeply grieved. She had liked Mrs. Farraline, even in the short time she had known her. She was, according to Hester, a remarkably charming woman, full of humor and intelligence.”
“Indeed, so I believe,” Gilfeather said dryly, glancing at the jury and then back at Callandra. “She is already deeply missed. What did Miss Latterly tell you had happened?”
Callandra replied as accurately as she could remember, and no one else stirred or made a sound while she was speaking. She went on, at Gilfeather’s prompting, to tell how Hester had gone upstairs to wash and had returned with the gray pearl pin, and what had transpired after that. Gilfeather tried his best to keep her answers brief, to cut her off, to best rephrase his questions so that a confirmation or denial would be sufficient, but she was not to be led.
Rathbone sat still behind Argyll listening to every word, but his eyes as often as not were upon the faces of the jury. He could see their respect for Callandra, and indeed that they liked her, but they also knew that she was biased towards the prisoner.
How much would they discount for that reason?
It was impossible to tell.
He turned to watch the Farralines instead. Oonagh was still composed, her face totally calm, watching Callandra with interest and not without respect. Beside her, Alastair looked unhappy, his aquiline face drawn, as if he had slept poorly, which was hardly surprising. Did he know about the company books? Had he begun his own inquiries since his mother’s death? Had he suspected his weaker younger brother?
What quarrels were there in that family when the door was closed and the outside, public world could neither see nor hear?
It was not surprising that none of them looked at Hester. Did they know, or at least believe, that she was innocent?
He leaned forward and tapped Argyll on the shoulder.
Very slowly Argyll leaned backward so he could hear if Rathbone bent and whispered.
“Are you going to play on the family’s guilt?” he said under his breath. “It is very probable at least one of them knows who it is—and why.”
“Which one?”
“Alastair, I should guess. He is head of the family, and he looks wretched.”
“He won’t break as long as his sister is there to support him,” Argyll said in reply so softly Rathbone had to strain to hear him. “If I could drive a wedge between those two, I would, but I don’t know how yet, and to try it and fail would only strengthen them. I’ll only get one chance. She is a formidable woman, Oonagh McIvor.”
“Is she protecting her husband?”
“She would, I think, but why? Why would Baird McIvor have killed his mother-in-law?”
“I don’t know,” Rathbone confessed.
The judged glared at him and for several moments he was obliged to keep silent, until Callandra again earned the judge’s disapproval and his attention returned to her.
“Fear,” he whispered to Argyll again.
“Of whom?” Argyll asked, his face expressionless.
“Play on fear,” Rathbone replied. “Find the weakest one and put him on the box, and make the others fear he or she would give them away, either out of panic and clumsiness or to save his own skin.”
Argyll was silent for so long Rathbone thought he had not heard.
He leaned forward again and was about to repeat it when Argyll replied.
“Who is the weak one? One of the women? Eilish, with her ragged school, or Deirdra, with her flying machine?”
“No, not the women,” Rathbone said with a certainty that surprised him.
“Good,” Argyll agreed dryly, the shadow of a smile curving his lips. “Because I wouldn’t have done it.”
“How gallant.” Rathbone was bitingly sarcastic. “And damned useless.”
“Not gallant at all,” Argyll said between his teeth. “Practical. The jury will love Eilish; she is both beautiful and good. What else can you ask? And they’ll deplore Deirdra’s deceit of her husband, but they’ll secretly like her. She’s small and pretty and full of courage. The fact that she’s as mad as a hatter won’t make any difference.”
