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Camborne smiled.
Juniver half rose, then caught York’s eye and changed his mind.
“Lunchtime,” Camborne observed. “An interesting way of recalling the hour. Did you have lunch there, Mr. Collins?”
Collins hesitated only a second. “Yes, sir.”
“What did you have?”
“Ploughman’s, sir. Cheese and pickle.”
“You’re quite sure?”
Juniver rose. “My lord, this is all completely irrelevant.”
“You are precipitate, Mr. Juniver,” York replied. “It may prove to be of importance. Proceed, Sir Oswald.”
“Thank you, my lord. Mr. Collins, why are you so sure that you had a ploughman’s sandwich on that day? Was there something remarkable about it?”
“No, sir. It’s what I always ’ave. They do a very good pickle at the Pig and Whistle,” Collins said with approval.
“Always? And always at the Pig and Whistle?” Camborne asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“And there was nothing different about this day?”
Collins stared at him. Suddenly he realized the trap he had fallen into. “I know I saw Beshara on the street there that very day!” he insisted.
Camborne’s eyebrows shot up. “You know him? You are acquainted?”
“No! But I saw him!”
Camborne smiled. “But how can you be certain it was the day of the explosion, if there was nothing else to set it apart? Thank you, Mr. Collins. That is all.”
Juniver stood up to try to save his witness, but he realized that he could only make it worse. Collins might repeat all he had said, but his confidence was gone. He would be replying in anger, to save his dignity. Juniver sat down again.
The others largely followed suit, and what was left was likely to be disregarded by the jury.
Juniver did not call Beshara to the stand. It was a wise decision. His manner was not particularly pleasing, his English only moderately good. All he could do was deny his guilt, and of course testifying would open him up to being cross-examined by Camborne. Like many people accused of terrible crimes he accepted his lawyer’s advice to remain silent.
The jury barely needed to retire to bring back a verdict of guilty. The court sat late in order for York to place the black cap upon his head and pass sentence of death upon Habib Beshara for the murders of one hundred and seventy-nine men and women. He would be taken to jail, and in three weeks’ time would be hanged by the neck until he was dead.
CHAPTER
5
MONK ATE DINNER IN the comfort of the kitchen, with Hester and Scuff. There was a checked cloth on the table, and the yellow china jug full of flowers on the dresser at the side was so big it hid half of the plates kept there. The back door was open to let in the warmth of the summer evening and the faint smell of earth and cut grass.
“Why’s it matter so much?” Scuff asked.
They had been speaking of the new canal at Suez.
“Because it will take about five thousand miles off the journey from Britain to the Far East,” Hester replied, eager to sharpen his interest in anything connected with schoolwork. She was certain that he had been skipping attendance recently, but nagging him would not help.
He still looked slightly puzzled.
She started to explain how hard Britain had fought for mastery of the seas over the previous hundred years. Her narrative was full of terrific naval battles, especially in the period of the Napoleonic Wars, battles such as Copenhagen, the Nile, and finally Trafalgar, and at last she had his full attention.
