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Marcus pursed his lips. “You managed to do that in the Graves case, when it was your father’s peril. Why? Did you think your father would disown you if you appeared to be against him? Don’t tell me you did not think he could be wrong—you did! I saw it in your eyes. Do you think your brother-in-law could be wrong, and your sister will not forgive you for making her see that?”
Daniel clenched his jaw so tightly the pain went right through his head. Marcus had struck a raw nerve. It was exactly what he feared. That it was not his fault would make no difference at all. It would be he who was exposing it, making it impossible to deny.
This time Marcus’s voice was soft, as if he understood, maybe more than Daniel would ever appreciate. “You can’t please other people, Daniel. All you can do is be careful how you uncover the truth. Now go and defend Philip Sidney. For the duration of this trial, that is where your loyalties lie.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go on, then!”
“Yes, sir.” Daniel turned away and walked out the door, and into his own small room. He should have seen this coming. He should have refused Patrick…and Jemima. It was too late now. Marcus was right.
* * *
—
DANIEL BEGAN BY going to visit Philip Sidney in prison. Kitteridge had been already, so Daniel would have to explain the situation to Sidney without making him feel as if he had been downgraded, fobbed off with a junior.
He had no idea what to expect. Whatever he felt, he must try to see the whole miserable exercise from Sidney’s point of view. Whatever struggle it cost him, Daniel must see the good in him, the humanity, if there was any to find. How had Sidney got himself into this mess? God knew, Daniel could empathize with him! How had he got into such a mess himself?
Of course, he had been to various prisons around London before. It was seldom a pleasant experience. The accused person was almost always afraid, however they exhibited it. Sometimes they were pathetic, sometimes aggressive, sometimes completely and utterly bewildered.
This was a very ordinary police cell. Sidney was incarcerated only because he had the means to flee, and it had been suggested that he might rather than face the charge leveled against him. The offense was entirely nonviolent, and the actual amount of money not very great, considering the embezzlement had taken place over an extensive period.
Daniel told the guard that he was Sidney’s lawyer and showed him his credentials. Reluctantly, the guard took him into a small stone-floored room with one table and two chairs and told him to wait. Daniel had been in such rooms to visit men who were afraid and all too often filled with despair. He was used to the struggle to convince them that this was not yet the end, there was still something worth fighting for, even if it was only a lesser sentence.
When Sidney came in a few minutes later, nothing about his manner was as Daniel had expected. His physical appearance he already knew, from Tobias Thorwood’s description of the man he had seen coming out of Rebecca’s bedroom. It was very general: tall, slender, fair brownish hair, and an air of arrogance, of entitlement.
There was no arrogance in this man that the guard showed in. Sidney’s hands were loosely manacled in front of him. Perhaps that was for Daniel’s safety?
“I’m sorry, I don’t know you,” Sidney said quietly.
Daniel stood up. “Daniel Pitt. I work with Kitteridge.”
“Has something else happened?” He was trying to hide it, but there was an edge of fear in his voice.
Daniel decided it was best to be open. The situation was far too complicated as it was. Prevarications and attempted lies would make it totally incomprehensible. “Yes, I’m afraid Mr. Kitteridge has been assigned to another case, one with a far more serious charge. I have been given your case. I knew only this morning. So, I have come to learn as much as I can directly from you.” He indicated the other chair. “Sit down…”
Sidney obeyed, and in watching him move, Daniel realized that he was emotionally exhausted and rigid with a fear he was trying very hard to hide. He looked stunned, rather than angry.
“I haven’t been able to speak to Kitteridge since he came to see you,” Daniel began, “so I don’t know what he asked you. How much are you supposed to have embezzled, and from whom…precisely? I know it took place in the British Embassy in Washington.”
“About a hundred pounds,” Sidney replied. “Not a fortune, but certainly a lot of money. Several weeks of my salary.”
“All at one time?”
“No, little by little. Five or ten pounds at a time.” He pushed his hair off his forehead. It seemed to be a nervous gesture. The manac
les rattled with each move.
“How did they find out?”
Sidney looked miserable. He avoided Daniel’s eyes. “It showed up on my bank account, and disappeared again, as if I’d spent it.”
“Exactly how did you do that?”
“I didn’t!”
“How did they say you did it?”
