AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Rathbone's eyebrows rose. “Indeed? Then I assume you pursued all of Mr. Durban's other unsolved cases with equal zeal?”
“I would like to solve them all,” Monk replied. “There were not many: a few minor thefts, one to do with the smuggling of half a dozen kegs of brandy; the fencing of stolen china and ornaments; a couple of incidents of public drunkenness that ended in fights; a few broken windows. The murder of children comes before all those.” He too paused for effect, and smiled very slightly. “I'll attend to the rest, if I have time.”
Rathbone's face changed slightly, acknowledging that he had an adversary not to be trifled with. “Of course that takes priority,” he agreed, changing his angle of attack with barely a trace of awkwardness. “It seems from what we have heard that it comes before a great many things in your estimation. You appear to have read Mr. Durban's notes with great attention. Why is that?”
Monk had not foreseen the question phrased quite that way. “I have held Mr. Durban's position since shortly after his death. I thought I had a great deal to learn from his experience, and what he had written about.”
“How modest of you,” Rathbone observed. “So you admired Mr. Durban a great deal?”
There was only one possible answer. “I did.”
“Why?” Rathbone asked innocently.
Monk had opened the way to such a question; now he had to answer it. He had no time to concoct a reply that was careful or measured to safeguard the case. “Because he held command without abuse of his authority,” he said. “His men both liked and respected him. For the short time that I knew him, before he gave his life in the call of duty, I found him to have humor, kindness, and integrity.” He nearly said something about hating injustice, and stopped himself just in time.
“A fine eulogy for a man who is not here to speak for himself,” Rathbone said. “He certainly has a loyal friend in you, Mr. Monk.”
“You say that as if loyalty to a friend were an offense,” Monk retaliated, just a shade too quickly, betraying his anger.
Rathbone stopped, turned slowly towards Monk up in the witness stand, and smiled. “It is, Mr. Monk, when it places itself before loyalty to truth, and to the law. It is an understandable quality, perhaps even likable—except of course, to the man who is accused of a hideous crime so that one friend may pay a debt to another.”
There was a rustle of sharpened interest around the room. One or two of the jurors looked anxious. Lord Justice Sullivan's face was carefully expressionless.
Tremayne rose to his feet, but with anger rather than confidence.
“Profound as Sir Oliver's philosophy may be, my lord, it does not appear to contain a question.”
“You are quite correct,” Sullivan agreed, but with reluctance. “Such observations more properly belong in your club, Sir Oliver. You called Mr. Monk to the stand; therefore, I assume you have something to ask him. Please proceed with it.”
“My lord,” Rathbone said, masking only the slightest irritation. He looked back up at Monk. “What was your own occupation when you first met Mr. Durban?”
“I was a private agent of inquiry,” Monk answered. He could guess where Rathbone was leading, but he could not avoid going with him.
“Did that fit you for taking over Mr. Durban's position as Commander of the River Police at Wapping?”
“I don't think so. But I had been in the Metropolitan Police before that.” Surely Rathbone was not going to bring up his loss of memory? He was seized with a sudden cold uncertainty that he might.
But that was not where Rathbone struck.
“Why did you leave the Metropolitan Police?” he asked.
Sullivan was impassive, but as if he were containing his emotion with difficulty. His color was high, his fist tightly closed on the bench.
“Sir Oliver, are you questioning Mr. Monk's professional ability, his reputation, or his honesty?” he asked.
“None of those, my lord.” Irritation marked Rathbone's face now. His hands were closed tight and hard. “I believe Mr. Durban had leadership skills that Mr.
Monk intensely admired, because he had failed to exhibit them himself in the past. Mr. Durban, in choosing him as his successor, gave him the opportunity to try a second time, which is a chance few men receive. Mr. Durban also expressed a confidence in him that he did not have in himself. I will show that Mr. Monk's sense of debt to Durban drove him to exceed his authority, and his usual judgment, in pursuit of Jericho Phillips, and that he did so to pay what he perceived as a debt. He also desired profoundly to earn the respect of his men by vindicating Durban's original pursuit of the murderer.”
Tremayne shot to his feet, his face filled with consternation, forgetting even to address the judge.
“That is a very large and rather rash assumption, Sir Oliver.”
Rathbone turned to Sullivan with an air of innocence.
“My client is accused of a very terrible crime, my lord. If he is found guilty he will be hanged. No lengths within the law are too great to make certain that justice is done, and that we do not also allow our emotions, our pity or our revulsion, to dictate our thoughts and overwhelm our reason. We too wish to see someone pay, but it must be the right someone.”
“Of course it must,” Sullivan said forcefully. “Proceed, Sir Oliver, but get to the point.”
