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“Paid someone?” Bawtry affected confusion, but not total disbelief. “Who? Have you discovered something totally new that might attest to this? I have only just arrived in court.”
“A woman,” Rathbone said. “The obvious person who makes complete sense would be Zenia Gadney.”
“Gadney?” Now Bawtry was completely incredulous. “From all accounts I’ve heard, she was a slight, very ordinary middle-aged woman, unremarkable in every way. Indeed, she appears totally a victim, a pawn in the game.” He frowned. “Are you saying she was actually greedy, desperate, and passionate enough to have murdered her husband, the man who had supported her financially, and with some kindness, over the last fifteen years? You must have compelling evidence! It’s frankly preposterous.”
“There is evidence.” Rathbone again chose his words delicately. “It is not compelling, but the more I weigh it, the more it seems to make sense. Consider the possibility that Herne needed desperately to silence Lambourn, indeed, to discredit him so that no whispers of what he found would ever be believed, in case he spoke of it to others. He dare not kill Lambourn himself. Lambourn may even have been aware of the danger and would have taken care not to be alone with Herne. And of course Herne had to have a way of protecting himself from suspicion.”
“I see,” Bawtry said cautiously.
“So he promises to pay Zenia Gadney what would be a moderate sum to him, but a fortune to her, in exchange for this favor.”
“But … murder? Of her husband?” Bawtry was still far from convinced.
“A gentle murder,” Rathbone explained. “She asks Lambourn to meet her alone, when Dinah will not know. There are many ways she could justify such a request. She takes a knife, or a blade of some sort, possibly an open razor. And of course she also takes a strong opium solution, possibly mixed in something palatable, to disguise it. Or it is conceivable Herne gave her a syringe with a solution in it.”
Bawtry nodded, as if he were beginning to believe.
“She arranges a suitable place to meet, possibly in the park,” Rathbone continued. “They walk together up One Tree Hill. On the top the view over the river is worth seeing. She offers him a drink. They have climbed a bit, and he is glad of it. Quite soon he is drowsy and they sit down. He passes out. She then slits his wrists and leaves him to bleed to death. She takes the knife or razor with her, because possibly it can be traced to her. Similarly she takes the container in which she brought the opium. It may well have been quite large. She will have pretended to drink from it herself, in case he found it odd that she didn’t, when she too had walked up the hill.”
Bawtry gave a slight shiver. “You paint a terrible picture, Sir Oliver. However, it is believable. But surely you cannot possibly find any way whatsoever to suggest that she then killed herself? Whatever her remorse afterward, to have inflicted those mutilations upon herself would surely have been impossible? And in that case, how do you explain her death?”
“Of course,” Rathbone agreed. “Anyway, the surgeon is of the opinion that the mutilation happened after she was already dead, thank God. No, I think she may have tried to blackmail Herne for more money, and he realized that he had to kill her, not only for financial reasons, but because if he did not, he would never be safe from her. Possibly he always intended to finish her off.”
Bawtry’s lips were tight, but he nodded his head very slightly. “It is hideous, but I admit I can see how it might be true. What is it that you wish from me?”
“Do you know anything at all that would disprove the outline I have just given?” Rathbone asked. “Anything about Lambourn, or more probably, about Barclay Herne?”
Bawtry sat silently for some time, concentrating intently. Finally he looked up at Monk, then at Rathbone.
“No, Sir Oliver, I know of nothing. I don’t know whether your theory is true or not, but there is nothing within my knowledge that makes it impossible. You have created more than reasonable doubt as to Dinah Lambourn’s guilt. I think both judge and jury will be obliged to grant as much.”
Rathbone felt the ease come through him at last.
“Thank you, Mr. Bawtry. I am most grateful for your time, sir.”
Bawtry inclined his head in acknowledgment, then rose to his feet and left the room.
Monk looked across at Rathbone. “Ready for the next step?” he said softly.
Rathbone took a deep breath. “Yes.”
When the court resumed in the early afternoon, Rathbone called his final witness, Amity Herne. She took the stand with dignity and remarkable composure. She was wearing a very elegant dark dress, which was not quite black, the color of wine in shadow. It became her, a dramatic contrast with her fair hair and skin. She gave her name, as before, and was reminded that she was still under oath.
Rathbone apologized for recalling her. Coniston objected and Pendock overruled him, directing Rathbone to proceed.
“Thank you, my lord.” He turned to Amity. “Mrs. Herne, you testified earlier that you and your brother, Joel Lambourn, did not know each other well in your early adulthood, because you lived some distance apart. Is that correct?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she said calmly.
“But in the last ten years or so you both lived in London, and therefore were able to visit far more frequently?”
“Yes. Perhaps once a month or so,” she agreed.
“And of course you were aware of his marriage to Zenia Gadney?”
“Yes. But I have been forced to be discreet about it, for reasons that must be obvious to you.”
“Of course. But you knew, and you were aware that Dinah Lambourn also knew?” he asked, forcing himself to be polite, even gentle.
