thinking what a beautiful woman she was. She was not surprised that Philo Trace was drawn to Judith. She would have found it harder to understand were he not.
“But the police have arrested Merrit,” Judith said to Casbolt. “They found Breeland’s watch in the warehouse yard.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I was there when Monk picked it up.” He seemed puzzled.
Judith lowered her voice. “Breeland gave it to Merrit as a keepsake. I knew that, but I hoped the police would not. However, Dorothea Parfitt told them … in all innocence, I imagine. But it cannot be taken back. Merrit showed it to her, boasting a little, as girls will.” Her composure cracked and she had to struggle to regain it.
Casbolt put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer to him. His face was full of pain, and the strength of his emotion was for a moment completely unguarded.
“Breeland is despicable,” he said softly. “He must have taken it back from her and dropped it there himself, even accidentally, or with the intention of trying to stop us from pursuing him for the harm it could do her. Either way, Judith, I swear we will fight him. We shall obtain the finest lawyers there are, and a Queen’s counsel to defend Merrit, if we cannot prevent it from coming to that.” He turned to Monk. “Is it conceivable Breeland will exonerate her? Does he have any love towards her at all, any honor? After all, he is a grown man, she is little more than a child, and she could never in her life have imagined stealing guns for any cause of her own!”
Hester knew what Monk would say before he spoke. She even glanced at Trace and saw the shadow in his face also.
“No,” Monk answered bluntly. “He denies he ever killed Mr. Alberton or stole anything.” He ignored their disbelief and continued. “He says Mr. Alberton changed his mind about selling him the guns and sent him a message to that effect. He says he bought them quite legally, and paid a man named Shearer for them.”
“What?” Casbolt jerked his head up.
Judith stared at Monk incredulously.
“And he says he has no idea who murdered the men in the warehouse yard,” Monk continued. “But he suggests it might have been Trace, out of revenge for not having been able to purchase the guns.”
“Preposterous!” Casbolt could keep silent no longer. “That’s totally absurd. No one would believe it.” He turned to Judith. “Did you receive any money?”
“No,” she said decisively.
“Who is Shearer anyway? Where is he?” Monk asked her.
“I don’t know where he is,” she admitted. “There has been no money paid for the guns-except, I believe, the money Mr. Trace paid in the beginning.”
Casbolt swung around to Philo Trace. “You paid the first half deposit on the whole shipment, did you not?”
“You know I did, sir.”
“Did you ever receive any part of it refunded because you were not to make the purchase after all?”
“No, not a cent.” Trace’s voice was tight and low, as if he was embarrassed for Judith, although it was in no way her fault.
Casbolt looked at Monk. “That should answer your questions, if you still have any. I don’t know what he has done to Merrit to persuade her of his innocence, or else to coerce her into swearing a lie to protect him, but she is only sixteen, a child. Certainly far too young to have her word taken seriously regarding a man she is obviously obsessed with.” He bit his lip, his expression softening to momentary distress. “Do you think he may have threatened her?”
Again Monk answered honestly. “No. It is my opinion she believes he is innocent. I don’t know why. It may be no more than that she cannot bear to think of his guilt. There is little more bitter than disillusion, and we can make ourselves believe what we need to, however preposterous, at least for a while. We call it loyalty, or faith, or whatever virtue counts most highly to us and fits the need.”
Casbolt glanced across at Judith, then down at the polished surface of the table with its silver and flowers. “There seems no way in which we can protect her from hurt. The best we can do will be to save her from being implicated in Breeland’s guilt in law. The story about our agent Shearer is absurd. Obviously, Breeland organized the stealing of the guns, whether he was there in person or not. We must distance her from that.” He looked at Judith, his face softening again, his voice gentle. “Will you call Pilbeam to handle it for you? If you would rather, I can take care of it, make sure the best possible barrister represents Merrit. There is no need for you to do anything.”
Her eyes softened. “Thank you, Robert,” she said quickly, reaching up and taking his hand. “I don’t know how I would have endured these past terrible weeks without your kindness. You have not spared yourself in the slightest, and I know you must be nearly as deeply grieved as I am. Daniel was your friend for even more years than he was my husband. He would be nearly as grateful to you as I am for your tireless care.”
Casbolt colored in an oddly self-conscious way, showing a vulnerability that startled Monk.
“I don’t believe Merrit will consent to be represented separately from Breeland,” Hester said urgently. “And certainly she will not allow him to sacrifice himself for her in any way at all. She is far more disposed to see it as the measure of her love to suffer with him, no matter how innocent she is in fact.”
“But that is …” Casbolt began, then, seeing her face, fell silent. Perhaps he knew Merrit well enough to realize the truth of Hester’s words. He turned to Monk.
But again it was Hester who spoke. “We know Sir Oliver Rathbone quite well. He is the best barrister in London. He can defend her if anyone can.”
Judith turned to her quickly, hope flaring in her eyes. “Would he? She may not be willing to be of any help to herself. Will he not refuse … in the circumstances?” She bit her lip. “I will pay him whatever his price, if that is the question. Please, Mrs. Monk, if there is anything you can do to prevail upon him. I will sell the house, the jewelry I have, everything, to save my daughter.”
“That wouldn’t be necessary,” Hester said softly. “It will not be money that matters to him, although I will tell him how much you care. It will be a question of finding a way to separate Merrit from Breeland’s guilt.”
“Try them separately!” Casbolt could not keep from interrupting; his body was locked with tension, his eyes hollow. “It is transparently unjust to charge them as if they were of one mind and one responsibility. Surely a decent barrister could persuade a jury of that?” There was an edge of desperation in his voice, a sharp, high note close to panic.
“Of course!” Monk said quickly, before he could say more, and Judith would know his fear. “We shall tell him all the circumstances, and if he is willing to take the case, he can then come to you and make all the necessary arrangements.”
“Thank you!” Judith’s face was flooded with relief, and then sudden shame. “You have done so much already. You must be exhausted, and I have sat half the evening pouring out more troubles and expecting your help, when you must be worn to a shadow for lack of sleep, and want more than anything on earth to reach your own home and your own bed. I am sorry.”
“There is no need to be.” Hester reached across quickly and touched Judith’s hand. “We have grown fond of Merrit ourselves, and are almost as angry as you are at the injustice that could be done were Breeland not to pay the price of his crime. Even had you not asked, we should not have wished to leave the task half completed.”
Judith said nothing. She was too full of emotion to retain command of herself.
“Thank you.” Casbolt spoke for her. “It was a fortunate day for us when you crossed our path. Without you this would have been an unmitigated tragedy.” He turned to Trace. “And I have been remiss in acknowledging your part also, sir. Your knowledge and your willingness to take your time and risk your safety in pursuit of justice, and towards Merrit, a very considerable mercy, marks you as a true gentleman. We are in your debt also.”
“There is no debt between friends,” Trace replied. He spoke to Casbolt, but Monk was quite certain his words were meant for Judith.
It was not a task to which Monk looked forward. He had half hoped Judith Alberton would have a lawyer in whom she had such explicit trust that she would look no further, but he had always acknowledged the possibility that in the end Rathbone would have to be approached. This was a desperate case.
Still, as he and Hester rode homeward at last, he felt a weight of oppression settle over him at the prospect of having to go to Vere Street the following day and speak to Oliver Rathbone-worse than that, to ask a favor of him.
Their relationship was long, and tense. Rathbone was by birth everything that Monk was not: privileged, financially comfortable, excellently educated, part of the establishment, effortlessly a gentleman. Monk was a
