and Monk was permitted largely by instinct of the gaoler, who knew him from the past, and was used to obeying him.
It was a small anteroom for the duty gaolers to wait. Ravensbrook was half collapsed on a wooden hard- backed chair. His hair and clothes were disheveled and there was blood splattered on his arms and chest, even on his face. He seemed in the deepest stages of shock, his eyes sunk in their sockets, unfocused. He was breathing through his mouth, gasping and occasionally swallowing and gulping air. His body was rigid and he trembled as if perished with cold.
One gaoler stood holding a rolled-up handkerchief to a wound in Ravensbrook's chest, a second held a glass of water and tried to persuade him to drink from it, but he seemed not even to hear the man.
“Are you the doctor?” the gaoler with the handkerchief demanded, looking at Monk. In his gown and wig, Rathbone was instantly recognizable for what he was.
“No. But there's probably a nurse still on the premises, if you send someone to look for her immediately,” Monk replied. “Her name is Hester Latterly, and she'll be with Lady Ravensbrook in her carriage.”
“Nurse'll be no use,” the gaoler said desperately. “Nobody about needs nursin', for Gawd's sake. Look at it!”
“An army nurse,” Monk corrected his impression. “You might have to go a mile or more to find a doctor. And she'll be more used to this sort of thing than most doctors around here anyway. Go and get her. Don't stand around arguing.”
The man went, perhaps glad to escape.
Monk turned to look at Ravensbrook, studied his face for a moment, then abandoned the idea and spoke instead to the remaining gaoler.
“What happened?” he asked. “Tell us precisely, and in exact order as you remember it. Start when Lord Ravensbrook arrived.”
He did not question who Monk was, or what authority he had to be demanding explanations. The tone in Monk's voice was sufficient, and the gaoler was overwhelmingly relieved to hand over responsibility to someone else, anyone at all.
“ 'Is lordship came in wi' permission from the 'ead warder for 'im ter visit wi' the prisoner,” he responded. “ 'Im bein' a relative, like, an' the prisoner lookin' fit ter be sent down, then like as not, topped.”
“Where is the head warder?” Rathbone interrupted.
“Goin' ter speak wi' the judge,” the gaoler replied. “Dunno wot 'appens next. Never 'ad no one killed in the middle o' a trial afore, leastways not while I were 'ere.” He shivered. He had taken the glass of water, theoretically for Ravensbrook, and it slurped at the edges as his hand shook.
Rathbone took it from him and set it down. “So you opened the cell and allowed Lord Ravensbrook in?” Monk prompted.
“Yes, sir. An' o' course I locked it be'ind 'im, the prisoner bein' charged wi' a violent crime, like, it were necessary.”
“Of course it was,” Monk agreed. “Then what happened?”
“Nuffink, for 'bout five minutes or so.”
“You waited out here?”
“O' course.”
“And after five minutes?”
“'Is lordship, Lord Ravensbrook, 'e knocked on the door an' asked ter come out. I thought it was kind o' quick, but it in't none o' my business. So I let 'im aht. But 'e weren't through.” He was still holding the rolled-up handkerchief at Ravensbrook's chest, and the blood was seeping through his fingers. “ 'E said as the prisoner wanted ter write 'is last statement an' 'ad I any paper and a pen an' ink,” he went on, his voice hoarse. “Well, o' course I don't 'ave it in me pocket, like, but I told 'im as I could send for 'em, which I did. I'nt that right, me lord?” He looked down at Ravensbrook for confirmation, but Ravensbrook seemed almost unaware of him.
“You sent for them. Who did you send?” Monk pressed.
“Jimson, the other bloke on watch wi' me. The feller wot yer sent for the nurse.”
“And you locked the cell door?”
“O' course I locked it.” There was indignation in his voice.
“And Lord Ravensbrook waited out here with you?”
“Yeah, yeah 'e did.”
“Did he say anything?”
Ravensbrook neither moved on his chair nor made any sound.
“Wot, ter me?” the gaoler said with surprise. “Wot would a lordship talk ter the likes o' me abaht?”
“You waited in silence?” Monk asked. “Yeah. Weren't long, three or four minutes, then Jimson came back wi' pen an' paper an' ink. I gave 'em ter 'is lordship, opened the cell door again, and 'e went in, an' I locked it.”
“And then?”
The man screwed up his face in concentration. “I'm trying ter think as if I 'eard anythink, but I can't recall as I did. I should lave…”
Why.
“Well, there must 'a bin summink, mustn't there?” he said reasonably. “'Cos arter a few minutes like, 'is lordship banged on the door an' shouted fer 'elp, shouted real loud, like 'e were in terrible trouble-which o' course 'e were.” He took a deep breath, still staring at Monk. “So me an' Jimson, we both went to the door, immediate like. Jimson unlocked it, an' I stood ready, not knowin' what ter expec'.' “And what did you find?”
He looked over towards the cell door about ten feet away, and still very slightly ajar.
“'Is lordship staggerin' an' beatin' on the doors wi' 'is fists,” he answered, his voice strained. “An' 'e were all covered in blood, like 'e is now.” He glanced at Ravensbrook, then away again. “The prisoner were in an leap on the floor, wi' even more blood on 'im. I can't remember wot I said, nor wot Jimson said neither. 'E 'elped 'is lordship out, an' I went ter the prisoner.” He kept his eyes fixed on Monk's face, as if to block out what was in his mind. “I knelt down by 'im an' reached for 'is 'and, like, ter see if 'e were alive. I couldn't feel nothin'. Although ter be 'onest wif yer, sir, I dunno as 'ow I weren't shakin' so much I wouldn't a' knowed anyway. But I think 'e were dead already. I never seen so much blood in me life.”
“I see.” Monk's eye strayed involuntarily towards the half-open cell door.
He forced his attention back to the man in front of him. “And then what?”
The gaoler looked at Ravensbrook, but Ravensbrook gave him no prompt whatsoever; in fact, from the fixed expression on his face, he might not even have heard what they said.
“We asked 'is lordship what 'ad 'appened,” the gaoler said unhappily.
“Although anyone could see as there'd bin a terrible fight, an' some'ow the prisoner'd got the worst o' it.”
“And when you asked Lord Ravensbrook, what did he say?”
“'E said as the prisoner'd leaped on 'im and attacked 'im when 'e 'ad the penknife out ter recut the nib, and 'though 'e'd done 'is best ter fight 'im off, in the struggle, 'e'd got 'isself stabbed, an' it were all over in a matter o' seconds. Caught the vein in 'is throat and whoosh! Gom.” He swallowed hard, his concentration on Monk intense. “Don' get me wrong, sir, I wouldn't never 'ave had it 'appen, but maybe there's some justice in it.
Don't deserve ter get away wi' munlerin' 'is bruvver, like. No one do. But I 'ates an 'anging. Jimson says as I'm soft, but it in't the way for no man ter go.”
“Thank you.” Monk did not volunteer an opinion, but a certain sense of his agreement was in his silence, and the absence of censure in his voice. At last Monk turned to Ravensbrook and spoke clearly and with emphasis. “Lord Ravensbrook, will you please tell us exactly what happened? It is most important, sir.”
Ravensbrook looked up very slowly, focusing on Monk with difficulty, like a man wakening from a deep sleep.
“I beg your pardon?”
Monk repeated his words.
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” He drew in his breath and let it out silently. “I'm sorry.” For several more seconds he said nothing, until Rathbone was about to prompt him. Then at last he spoke. “He was in a very strange mood,” he said slowly, speaking as if his lips were stiff, his tongue unwilling to obey him. His voice was curiously flat. Rathbone had seen it before in people suffering shock. “At first he seemed pleased to see me,”
Ravensbrook went on. “Almost relieved. We spoke about trivialities for a few minutes. I asked him if he needed
