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RATHBONE HAD SLEPT LITTLE. A messenger had arrived at his rooms after midnight with a note from Hester:
Dear Oliver,
We found the body. Seems to be a woman with gray hair. She was killed by a terrible blow to the head—just like the others. Am in the police station with Sergeant Robb. They do not know who she is. Will tell William, of course. I shall be in court in the morning to testify. You MUST call me!
Yours, Hester
He had found it impossible to rest. An hour later he had made himself a hot drink and was pacing the study floor trying to formulate a strategy for the next day. Eventually, he went back to bed and sank into a deep sleep, when it seemed immediately time to get up.
His head ached and his mouth was dry. His manservant brought him breakfast, but he ate only toast and drank a cup of tea, then left straightaway for the courtroom. He was far too early, and the time he had expected to use in preparing himself he wasted in pointless moving from one place to another, and conversation from which he learned nothing.
Tobias was in excellent spirits. He passed Rathbone in the corridor and wished him well with a wry smile. He would have preferred a little fight of it. Such an easy victory was of little savor.
The gallery was half empty again. The public had already made up their minds, and the few spectators present were there only to see justice done and taste a certain vengeance. The startling exceptions to this were Lucius and Harry Stourbridge, who sat towards the front, side by side, and even at a distance, very obviously supporting each other in silent companionship of anguish.
The judge called the court to order.
"Have you any further witnesses, Sir Oliver?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord. I would like to call Hester Monk."
Tobias looked across curiously.
The judge raised his eyebrows, but with no objection.
Rathbone smiled very slightly.
The usher called for Hester.
She took the stand looking tired and pale-faced, but absolutely confident, and she very deliberately turned and looked up towards the dock and nodded to both Cleo and Miriam. Then she waited for Rathbone to begin.
Rathbone cleared his throat. "Mrs. Monk, were you in court yesterday when Mrs. Anderson testified to the extraordinary story Miriam Gardiner told when she was first found bleeding and hysterical on Hampstead Heath twenty-two years ago?"
"Yes, I was."
"Did you follow any course of action because of that?"
"Yes, I went to look for the body of the woman Miriam said she saw murdered."
Tobias made a sound of derision, halfway between a cough and a snort.
The judge leaned forward enquiringly. "Sir Oliver, is this really relevant at this stage?"
"Yes, my lord, most relevant," Rathbone answered with satisfaction. At last there was a warmth inside him, a sense that he could offer a battle. Assuredly, he could startle the equanimity from Tobias’s face.
"Then please make that apparent," the judge directed.
"Yes, my lord. Mrs. Monk, did you find a body?"
The court was silent, but not in anticipation. He barely had the jurors’ attention.
"Yes, Sir Oliver, I did."
Tobias started forward, jerking upright from the seat where he had been all but sprawled.
There was a wave of sound and movement from the gallery, a hiss of indrawn breath.
The judge leaned across to Hester. "Do I hear you correctly, madam? You say you found a body?"
