Describe Kristian Beck for us, as he was then.”
Niemann drew in a deep breath. Hester saw his shoulders square. “He was brave, decisive, unsentimental,” Niemann answered. “He had an extraordinarily clear vision of what was necessary, and he had the intelligence and the will, and the moral and physical courage, to carry it out. He had no personal vanity.”
“You make him sound very fair,” Pendreigh observed.
Hester thought Niemann made Kristian sound cold, even if it was not what he intended. Or perhaps it was? If he wished to exact a revenge on Kristian for his winning of Elissa, this was his perfect opportunity. Had Monk brought him here for that, unintentionally sealing Kristian’s fate?
Or was it possible, even probable, that Niemann believed Kristian guilty?
“He was fair,” Niemann said. He hesitated, as if to add something more, then changed his mind and remained silent.
“Did he fall in love with Elissa von Leibnitz?” Pendreigh asked. His voice was thick with his own emotion.
“Yes,” Niemann replied. “Very much.”
“And she with him?”
“Yes.” This time the word was simple, painful.
“And they married?”
“After the uprising, yes.”
“Did you ever doubt his love for her?”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
“And you all three remained friends?” Pendreigh asked.
Neimann’s hesitation was palpable.
“You didn’t?” Pendreigh asked.
“We lost touch for some time,” Niemann answered. “One of our number was killed, very violently. It distressed us all profoundly. Kristian seemed to feel it most.”
“Was he at fault?”
“No. It was just the fortune of war.”
“I see. But he was the leader. Did he feel perhaps he should somehow have prevented it?”
Mills half rose to his feet, then changed his mind. Niemann was painting a darker picture of Kristian than the dedicated doctor that had been shown so far. It was hardly in his interest to stop Niemann, or to question his veracity.
“I don’t know,” Niemann answered. It was probably the truth, but it sounded evasive.
Pendreigh retracted. “Thank you. Now may we come to the present, and your recent visit to London? Did you see Mrs. Beck?”
“Yes.”
“Several times?”
“Yes.”
“At her home, or elsewhere?”
“At the studio of Argo Allardyce, where she was having a portrait painted.” Niemann looked uncomfortable.
“I see. And were you in that vicinity on the night of her death?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Where, precisely?”
“I was walking along Swinton Street.”
“At what time?”
“Shortly after nine o’clock.”
“Did you see anyone you knew?”
“Yes. I saw the artist, Argo Allardyce.” Niemann drew in a deep breath. “I also saw a woman who has since conceded that she was there, but unfortunately she does not remember seeing me.”
“Argo Allardyce?” Pendreigh affected surprise. “What was he doing?”
“Striding along the pavement with an artist’s case under his arm. He looked very angry. The woman was following him and spoke to him while I was there.”
“Thank you. Your witness, Mr. Mills.”
Mills bowed and rose. He did not ask more, but with a few skillful questions he drew from Niemann a picture of Kristian as a leader in the uprising which was even more self-controlled than before, a man who never lost sight of the goal, who could make sacrifices of all kinds, even of people, in the good of the greater cause.
Hester sat cringing with every new addition, and felt Callandra stiffen beside her. She could only imagine what she must be feeling.
