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“Under Commander Monk’s directions, did you and the rest of the men on that fateful trip attempt to find the kidnappers and murderers of Mrs. Exeter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That would be yourself, Laker, Marbury, Bathurst, and Walcott? Is that right?”
“Yes, sir. And Mr. Monk himself.”
“Even though one of you had informed the kidnappers of your plan?”
“It seems that way, but we did not know who, and we were reluctant to believe it.”
“Did you have any suspicions yourself?”
How honest should he be? Suspicions were only thoughts. But it wasn’t about truth or facts, not yet. It was about impressions. The jurors were watching him, listening to his tone of voice. They were judging him, not his exact words.
“I didn’t think it was any of the men I knew well. I couldn’t believe it of them. So, my attention went first to the new men, Marbury and Walcott,” he answered.
Ravenswood smiled bleakly. “Had you said otherwise, I would not have believed you, unless, of course, you knew none of them was guilty, because it was yourself who betrayed them.”
So soon! Hooper had thought that at some time the question would be put to him, but not yet and not without any warning. He must measure his words exactly, but he could not help the heat rising up his face. Would they take it as guilt? Or recognize it as fear? Would they even see that there was a difference?
“I did not betray them,” he replied. “And I find it difficult and very painful to accept that anyone did.”
“But you do accept it?” Ravenswood pressed. His voice was quite gentle.
“I think I have no choice,” Hooper answered.
“I will see if I can offer you one, in due course.” Ravenswood’s smile was grim. “But for now, let us explore your investigations and see how they led you unwittingly to the only one of the kidnappers whose guilt seems to be unquestioned. Please describe for the court what you and Commander Monk did, and the order in which you did it, so that we may understand.”
Detail by detail, Hooper recounted it. It sounded simpler than it had been because, worked backward from memory, it all made sense. He told them the reasoning behind each inquiry, and what they had heard of Lister spending money too freely, his appearance, what was known or believed of him.
“Did you arrest him, Mr. Hooper?”
“No, sir. We hoped that he would lead us to the others.”
“And did he?”
“No, sir.” Hooper wondered whether to mention the two men who had escaped after he and Monk pursued them from the roof, but since he did not know their names, and they had not done anything in Hooper’s sight, it would sound like evasion.
“And Lister?” Ravenswood asked.
“We found him in a rowing boat, sir. I’m afraid he was dead. His throat had been cut.”
“I see. Did you ever find out by whom?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you ever find any other of the kidnappers? I assume you are satisfied Lister was one of them?”
“Yes, we are, and no, we didn’t find any others.” It sounded pathetic. Was it better to labor the fact of how hard they had tried, and still failed? Did that make them seem even more incompetent? “We decided it would be more profitable to follow the trail of the money. Lister’s spending it too freely is what led us to him.”
“So you told us. Did it help?”
“A young lady came to Commander Monk, secretly. She told him she was from the bank.”
“That would be Bella Franken, from Nicholson’s Bank?”
“Yes, sir.”
