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"How far? Can you tell?"
"No. At least two or three hundred yards, maybe more."
"I see. What did you do then, Sergeant?"
Step by step, Tobias drew from Robb the account of finding the carriage and the horses, and presuming they were connected with the dead man. Then he led him through Monk’s arrival, seeking someone answering the dead man’s description.
"How very interesting!" Tobias said with triumph. "Presumably, you took this Mr. Monk to look at y
our corpse?"
"Yes sir."
"And did he identify him?"
"No sir. He couldn’t say. But he fetched two gentlemen from Bayswater who said he was James Treadwell, who had been their coachman."
"And the names of these gentlemen?"
"Major Harry Stourbridge and his son, Mr. Lucius Stourbridge."
There was a rustle of movement in the court as people’s attention was caught. Several straightened in their seats. "The same Lucius Stourbridge who is the son of Mrs. Verona Stourbridge and who was engaged to marry Mrs. Miriam Gardiner?"
More movement in the gallery. Two women craned forward to stare at the dock.
"Yes sir," Robb answered.
"And when was Treadwell last seen alive, and by whom?"
Reluctantly, Robb told of Miriam’s flight from the garden party, Monk’s duplicity on the matter, and how first Monk had tracked down Miriam, and then how Robb had himself. There was nothing Rathbone could do to stop him.
"Most interesting," Tobias said sagely. "And did Mrs. Gardiner give you a satisfactory account of her flight from Bayswater and any reason for this most strange behavior?"
"No sir."
"Did she tell you who had killed Treadwell? I assume you did ask her?"
"I did, and no, she did not give me any answer, except to say she did not do it."
"And did you believe her?"
Rathbone half rose to his feet.
The judge glanced at him.
Tobias smiled. "Perhaps that could be better phrased. Sergeant Robb, did you subsequently arrest Mrs. Gardiner for the murder of James Treadwell?"
"Yes, I did."
Tobias raised his eyebrows. "But you have not charged her with it!"
Robb’s face was tight and miserable. "She’s charged with conspiracy..."
"That you should be sad about such a fearful tragedy is very proper, Sergeant," Tobias observed, staring at him. "But you seem more than that, you seem reluctant, as if you do this against your will. Why is that, Sergeant Robb?"
Rathbone’s mind raced. Should he object that this was irrelevant, personal? He had intended to use Robb’s high opinion of Cleo, his knowledge of her motives, as his only weapon in mitigation. Now Tobias had stolen it. He could hardly object now and then raise it himself later. Even if he did so obliquely, Tobias himself would then object.
There was nothing he could do but sit quietly and try to keep his face from betraying him.
