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‘Sorry,’ the warder said. ‘The milk is off, so I left it out. First time you come to see a bloke wot’s going ter be ’anged?’
Was it that obvious? ‘Yes,’ Daniel admitted. ‘The last man I defended wasn’t guilty.’
‘None of them are,’ the warder said scornfully. ‘You look very young ter me. Should yer be doing this?’
‘I’m twenty-five,’ Daniel said, knowing that to be so defensive about his age made him so
und about eighteen. ‘I meant that the last man I defended was found not guilty. He’s probably eating eggs and bacon for breakfast in his own home. If he’s even out of bed yet!’ The image of Roman Blackwell reading his newspaper over a leisurely and elegant breakfast, being fussed over and sharing a joke and gossip with Mercy, passed briefly through his mind as he contemplated the mug of vile tea in the dreary room.
‘You must be sharper than yer look, ’cause yer look sick as a parrot to me. ’Ere, drink that afore they come and get you.’
Daniel sipped it. It was stewed. It must have been sitting in the pot for hours. But drinking it was easier than talking to the guard.
Graves was brought to a small interview room, dressed in drab prison uniform, and with manacles on his wrists. He was unshaven and his skin beneath the greying beard was sallow. He glanced at Daniel, and sat down awkwardly in the wooden chair, as if his balance were affected.
‘What do you want now?’ he asked.
‘Mr Kitteridge is looking to see if there is some legal error with which we can appeal . . .’ Daniel began.
‘You mean he might have made a mistake?’ Graves’ voice was thick with derision, but he could not keep the hope out of his eyes.
‘He’s a very good lawyer.’ Daniel instinctively defended Kitteridge. Anyway, it was the truth, whether you liked him or not. ‘Something in the proceedings, a—’
The momentary light vanished from Graves’ face. He let out a string of blasphemies.
‘And I have come to see if I can find out who really killed your wife,’ Daniel went on as if he had not heard. ‘Assuming it wasn’t you.’
‘You stupid sod, do you suppose if I had the faintest idea I wouldn’t have told you?’ Graves said with acid disbelief.
‘The difference being that I am free to spend my time enquiring into it, and you are not,’ Daniel said tartly. ‘If you want to waste your time abusing me, I really don’t care. But if, on the other hand, you want a chance of getting out of here, you’ll answer all the questions I ask you and see if you can give me something to investigate. The police may have missed something, not asked the right questions, not spoken to the right people. They wanted to prove you guilty; I want to prove you innocent.’
Graves stared at him with acute dislike. His desperation robbed him of dignity, stripped naked his fears and exposed the inner man far more than if he stood without the decency of being clothed. The humiliation burned in his eyes.
Daniel needed him to cooperate. ‘It’s your neck they’ll stretch, not mine,’ he said ruthlessly. ‘Do you want me to stay . . . or go?’
‘I did not kill her,’ Graves said between his teeth.
‘Well, someone did. I need to know a lot more about her. You can’t protect her now, either her reputation or her life. I’m looking for the truth. I don’t ask out of prurient curiosity, and I’m not going to tell anyone else, if it proves of no value in finding who killed her. Believe it or not, I don’t find other people’s affairs particularly interesting, and I’m good at keeping secrets. For one thing, I’m your lawyer, so I have to keep them, unless by following them up I can prove your innocence.’
Graves let out his breath in a sigh. It signified agreement, but the language of his body, slumped in a chair, made it seem like surrender.
Daniel felt a twinge of guilt. But this was no time to be gentle at the expense of truth.
Graves looked lost, as if he had no idea where to begin.
‘You said she was eccentric,’ Daniel prompted. ‘In what ways? Did she do something that might have offended people?’
‘Lots of things,’ Graves said tartly. ‘She was always offending people. But you don’t kill a woman and burn her face so she’s hardly recognisable because you don’t like the way she dresses! Or because she keeps company you think beneath her, or because she walks in the room as if she owns it, or talks to the wrong people. For God’s sake, man, we are not savages. Someone . . . hated her.’ His face looked pinched, and frightened at his own words. He was angry, and he was weary of concealing it.
Daniel kept his patience with difficulty. Time was short, and he had little enough knowledge to work with. He began again. ‘I’m trying to get an idea of what she was like,’ he spoke slowly. ‘At the moment, I have nowhere to begin. Someone did this to her. Do you think it was a chance robber who took nothing, but lingered long enough to disfigure her before escaping?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! Of—’ Then Graves stopped. It was as if a shadow had suddenly passed over his face. His shoulders slumped in submission. ‘I’ll tell you what I can. She was a woman of strong opinions, and aroused strong opinions in others.’
‘What about, that might have caused a quarrel?’ Daniel asked. This was more hopeful.
‘Politics,’ Graves answered. ‘She wanted to reform all sorts of things. But I don’t know if anyone took her seriously. And of course she wanted women to have the vote, for heaven’s sake.’
‘So do quite a few people.’ Daniel thought of his own mother, but did not say so. ‘Did she offend anyone in particular?’
