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“Leave the farming analogies and get back to the law, unless you’ve got something constructive to say. Find out who Cross gave those papers to and why. Who knew about the embezzlement, when they found out, and how long they’v
e known. That should keep you busy for a while.”
Daniel hesitated only a moment. “Right. I’ll report. Maybe tomorrow.”
* * *
—
THE FIRST THING he had to do was probably going to be the worst, but there was no avoiding it. And the less he knew, the more likely he was to make a mistake. He felt very much that he would rather not know, but running away from it would only make it worse. At least if he had knowledge, he had some degree of choice.
Daniel arrived at Keppel Street a little after eleven in the morning; if Patrick and Jemima had gone out somewhere, it would be the perfect excuse for him to avoid facing his task. Was he looking for an excuse? It was irrelevant—Jemima was in and pleased to see him.
Cassie came over to him immediately. “Hello, Uncle Daniel. Are you arguing?” She was fascinated with the idea of being paid to argue something.
He looked at her eager face. Her concentration was total. She did not deserve a trivial answer. “Hello, Cassie,” he replied. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Before you can make a really important argument, one you need to win because something that matters depends on it, you have to make sure you know as much as you can about it, and that what you think you know is actually right.”
“Oh. How do you do that?”
He thought for a moment. “Did you take the jam tarts from the pantry?”
She looked puzzled. “No…”
“But you’ve got jam on your face.”
“I had jam on my toast.”
Daniel looked up at Jemima, who nodded to him. “There, you see?” he said to Cassie. “If I argued that you did take the tarts, I would lose. Because I didn’t check that I was right!”
She smiled widely. It was as if she had won.
“And there aren’t any jam tarts in the pantry, anyhow,” Jemima added.
“We ate them yesterday,” Cassie said. “I had two.”
“You had three,” Jemima corrected her, choking back her laughter.
“But you’ve got the idea.” Daniel straightened up. “If you don’t check your facts, you can lose the argument.” He touched her head lightly. Her hair was incredibly soft. “I need to speak to Patrick,” he told Jemima. “Is he still here?”
The amusement vanished from her face. “I assume you’ve come about the case? Checking facts?”
“Yes. Do you know where the papers about Sidney’s embezzlement came from? As in, how did they get to London from the British Embassy, and who gave them to the police?”
“Why? Aren’t they real?” she asked.
“I don’t know. They look real, as far as I can tell.”
“Then what does it matter? If they prove he embezzled money? I don’t understand.” It was clear in her eyes that she didn’t.
“I’ve got to put on a defense, Jem. And Marcus has put Kitteridge onto another case. I’ve got to do it all myself. The first thing to do is find out who brought the papers over to England, and who gave them to the police to prosecute Sidney. Any competent defense would do that. So far, it’s the only weakness in the case. And Sidney says he didn’t embezzle. It’s my job to believe him, for as long as I can.”
She stared at him for several seconds. Cassie moved even closer to her, sensing in the air some sudden tension, a change in the tone of voices. “Are you asking me if Patrick brought them?”
“Did he?”
