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Hooper left the Old Bailey and walked down the slope of the street toward the river, wondering what on earth Rathbone would do the next day to begin the defense of Harry Exeter. He could pursue the embezzlement as much as he liked. Latham could account for his whereabouts at all the relevant times. He was a thief, but not a killer.
He could think of nothing that did not have the unmistakable air of desperation, and the jury would know it.
CHAPTER
20
RATHBONE BEGAN STRAIGHTAWAY BY calling Celia Darwin to the stand. Hooper was in his place again, in order to carry any message to Monk that might alter the course of the case, and to return to Rathbone with any last desperate evidence they might have found.
Hooper watched Celia walk across the floor and climb up to the stand, holding on to the rail. She looked a little clumsy, and she actually tripped on one of the steps, only just catching herself in time before s
he lost her balance completely. Hooper rose from his seat and then sank back again. He had no right to go to her assistance. He would make a fool of himself and only draw more attention to her. Clearly, she hated having to relive Kate’s abduction, which she had tried futilely to prevent. It must haunt her every waking hour, whether she admitted it or not. Kate had been not only her cousin but her dearest friend, the one family member who remained close.
Celia turned when she reached the top of the steps and faced the room. As she took the oath her voice wavered, and once she actually stopped, as if she had lost the words. The usher prompted her, and she completed the ritual. Never once did she glance across at Harry Exeter in the dock.
Hooper looked up at him. He was staring at Celia fixedly, but Hooper could not read his expression. It could have been hope he was trying not to show, or perhaps he was endeavoring not to betray his fear or his vulnerability to the jury. He must hate being so exposed! Nothing of his old wealth, dignity, wit, and swagger was left to him.
Rathbone treated Celia with respect, at least in his manner. But he was acting for the defense, and Hooper knew now how much Celia disliked Exeter and had guessed how much he disliked her. Kate had remained her friend only because of her own insistence. Exeter had tried to wean her away from all her family, but especially Celia, who was from the branch that had missed out on the wealth, the social success, and all the general popularity. But Kate had found her one true friend and confidante in Celia, and she refused to set her aside.
What could Rathbone ask Celia, other than about the actual abduction, which she had seen? She had identified Lister once he was dead. Could he be going to challenge that? To what end? There must be some attack, or why would he bother?
Rathbone had already established Celia’s friendship with Kate. In her account she reached the day of the abduction and the fact that they were walking along the riverbank in the sun, talking together of personal matters.
“And you turned away briefly?” Rathbone asked.
“Yes. I…wished to blow my nose,” Celia answered. Such a personal digression seemed to embarrass her. “The sound…”
“Very natural,” Rathbone responded. “What happened while your attention was diverted, Miss Darwin?”
“A young man came up the bank, from the direction of the river.”
“If you did not see him come, how do you know from which direction?” Rathbone interrupted.
“Because I could see around us. If he had been anywhere near, on the path or on the grass, I would have seen him approaching.” Her voice came levelly, perfectly polite.
Hooper, who knew her—at moments he felt he knew her very well—noticed the tension in her. She was afraid. Of what? It troubled Hooper because he did not understand. Actually, he did not understand why Rathbone had called her at all. That Lister had kidnapped Kate from the river walk was not disputed by anyone. What else could she know? He was for Exeter’s defense. Hooper found his hands rigid in his lap, his shoulders hunched.
“Quite so,” Rathbone agreed. “What did you do when you saw Mrs. Exeter was engaged in conversation? Were you alarmed?”
“No, not in the least. The man was quite well dressed, and she did not seem frightened. I wondered if perhaps she knew him, or he just found her attractive and hoped to make her acquaintance.”
“You judged him to be a man of roughly her own social class? Perhaps an acquaintance or a friend of one?”
“Yes.”
“And then what happened?”
“They were walking, and so as not to seem to be eavesdropping, I moved some distance from them. I lost sight of them when a group of people passed between us. Then quite suddenly they were no longer there.”
“Did you recognize the man at all?”
“Not then.”
“We will come to that later, in due course. But as of then, he was not known to you?”
“That is correct.”
“What did you do? Did you scream for help?”
