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Daniel held his gaze with complete innocence. ‘He must have reason for defending Graves,’ Daniel argued. ‘He knows something that we don’t, but why wouldn’t he help us if he wants us to succeed?’
‘He knows a lot of things we don’t,’ Kitteridge said with an edge to his voice. He reached for the salt, then changed his mind. ‘That’s why he’s head of chambers, and we are its employees. What have you found out, anyway?’
‘Apparently Ebony Graves was active in fighting for social change,’ Daniel replied. ‘But rather more interesting than that, Russell Graves really is a well-known biographer, if we’re bent on dissecting people rather than recording their lives in an even-handed way. I wanted to find out whether she did any of his research . . . betrayed anyone’s confidence.’
Kitteridge looked more interested.
Daniel went on, ‘I’m going to the house tomorrow morning. I want to see where it happened. Talk to the servants. Hear what they say. I know we’ve got police reports, but they may not be exact. And they don’t tell us expressions, how people looked when they answered. Perhaps they didn’t ask the same questions I’ll ask. I have the advantage of having seen Graves in court. And then afterward, in custody, to see what an intimidating bastard he can be. They might say to me things they would dare not say in his presence.’
‘You don’t think we’ll win, do you?’ That wasn’t a question. Kitteridge’s face was without hope, without its usual energy and black humour.
‘Probably not,’ Daniel agreed with a grimace. ‘But, like you, I have that shred of belief that he really didn’t do it.’ He shrugged. ‘There’s something missing.’
‘Very precise,’ Kitteridge said sarcastically. ‘Very lawyerly. You remind me of my mother, when she’s arranging flowers in the church. “Very nice, my dear, but there’s something missing. I think something purple, don’t you? Purple always ties it together, you know.”’ He looked away. ‘Sorry. By all means, go out to his house and ask the servants. Tell them you’re looking for something purple to tie it all together.’
Daniel did not bother to answer. He finished his cottage pie and considered asking if they had any more.
The following morning, with nineteen days before Graves was to be hanged, Daniel set out immediately after breakfast on an early train to Herne Hill, on the southern outskirts of London.
From the station, he had to find a taxi, and it took him some time. Eventually he stepped out, paid the driver, and turned to look at the garden that stretched beyond the front gateway, out of sight around the house, and what looked to be a large orchard. There were trees, most clipped, and flowerbeds in early bloom. It was easy to believe it would require the full-time services of two gardeners to keep it in this immaculate condition.
It was an impressive house, built for both comfort and grace. There might have been at least eight bedrooms, apart from servants’ quarters in the attic. There was also a carriage house, although whether it was used for carriages or automobiles these days was an option. Probably Graves preferred automobiles. It would save him the cost of keeping a stable staff, feeding horses, and paying vets’ bills.
Daniel approached the front door, suddenly a little self-conscious, aware of the sensitivity of his purpose. He had no police authority, but then, on the other hand, he had now the enormous burden of saving Graves from the rope, if it was even remotely possible.
He knocked on the door and stepped back.
Had the household been bothered by the press and maybe would not even answer to a stranger? He could not blame them. He must be prepared to insist. Graves had been found guilty, but this was still his house. He would expect his children and his staff to serve his interests while he was alive. Another nineteen days!
The door opened and a tall and portly man stood just inside. He wore a dark, formal suit. He looked Daniel straight in the eyes. ‘Yes, sir?’ he enquired coolly.
‘Would you be Mr Falthorne?’ Daniel asked.
The man’s grey eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Before I answer any questions, sir, I’ll ask who wishes to know. We have been troubled by insistent and intrusive persons lately, and I have no intention of allowing the family to be further harassed.’
‘Neither should you.’ Daniel smiled bleakly. ‘I am Daniel Pitt. I represented Mr Graves in court when my predecessor was unfortunately injured in an automobile accident. Or should I say I assisted Mr Kitteridge. He is presently doing all he can to see if there is an error in the law sufficient to form grounds for an appeal. I am endeavouring to find some solution to the tragedy of Mrs Graves’ death other than the one the police proposed.’ He saw the butler’s face darken. ‘At the request of Mr Marcus fford Croft.’
Falthorne was clearly confused as to what his decision should be. From his sombre appearance, he had lost all hope of a successful verdict. Now he was presented with hope. Was it a cruel trick, or a brave one? ‘If you would care to come inside, sir, it would cause less speculation, should someone pass by in the street.’
‘I’m sorry to distress you,’ Daniel said, ‘but time is short. I imagine you would wish us to make all efforts to find another less tragic solution, for the family’s sake.’
‘Yes, sir. If you will follow me?’ Falthorne stepped back, into the hall, and stood aside to let Daniel come after him. Falthorne turned. ‘I will not allow you to distress Miss Sarah. Do not offer her false hope that the facts are other than have been presented. It would be a very callous piece of cruelty. And I . . . I will not permit it.’ He stood very straight and faced Daniel with a slight flush on his cheeks. He was exceeding his duty, yet he was doing what he perfectly, clearly believed to be right.
Daniel thought it was not only a matter of this man taking his position in the house as effectively head of it. Certainly, he had the responsibility for all the servants, both male and female, but al
so there was no parent to care for the young people who had lost both their mother, and were about to lose their father. Possibly he had known them all their lives.
Daniel was perfectly aware that he was going to hurt them more, and he could not see any way out of it. Momentarily, he hated Graves for putting him in this position. Had he no thought at all beyond his own self-interests?
‘Would you prefer that I did not try?’ Daniel asked. ‘I admit, the hope is small.’
‘Certainly not!’ Falthorne said immediately. Then his expression changed, as if the light had moved and illuminated a different part of his emotions. ‘The guilt will be terrible, whatever the truth may be, if we did not do our best. If you will come with me, sir, you can start with Mrs Warlaby, the housekeeper, while I prepare Miss Sarah to meet with you. She will probably wish to make sure Mr Arthur is well taken care of before she sees you.’
‘Thank you,’ Daniel accepted.
Falthorne offered him a cup of tea, and he declined. He settled himself in a small but very comfortable sitting room. He should be offered hospitality, and yet he could not very well interview the staff in the formal withdrawing room.
It was only a few minutes before Mrs Warlaby came in, closing the sitting-room door quietly behind her and remaining standing.
