The Sins of the Wolf (45 page)

There was amazement in the gallery. Alastair rose to protest and was pulled back into his seat. It was useless, and Oonagh at least understood that. Alastair looked on in an agony of embarrassment.

Hector appeared and walked very slowly, his feet uncertain, his eyes wandering. He crossed the floor to the foot of the stairs up to the box.

“Do you need assistance, Mr. Farraline?” the judge inquired.

“Assistance?” Hector said with a frown. “What for?”

“To mount the steps, sir. Are you well?”

“Quite well, sir. And you?”

“Then take your place, sir, to be sworn in.” The judge looked at Argyll with acute disfavor. “I presume this is necessary, sir?”

“It is,” Argyll assured him.

“Very well, get on with it!”

Hector climbed the steps, was sworn in, and waited for Argyll to begin.

Gilfeather was watching intently.

“Major Farraline,” Argyll said courteously. “Were you in the house when Miss Latterly first arrived?”

“What? Oh … yes. Of course I was. I live there.”

“Did you see her arrive?”

Gilfeather rose. “My lord, Miss Latterly’s arrival is not in dispute. Surely this is irrelevant, and wasting the court’s time.”

The judge looked at Argyll, his eyebrows raised.

“I am coming to the point, my lord, if my learned friend will permit me,” Argyll replied.

“Then be a little more rapid, if you please,” the judge ordered.

“My lord. Major Farraline, did you see Miss Latterly moving about the house on that day?”

Hector looked confused. “Moving about? What do you mean … going up and down stairs, that sort of thing?”

Gilfeather rose again. “My lord, this witness is obviously not… not well! He is not competent to tell us anything of value. Of course Miss Latterly moved about the house. She could hardly have remained and not been seen the entire day. My learned friend is wasting time.”

“It is you who are wasting time,” Argyll countered. “I could get to my point a great deal faster if I were not constantly interrupted.”

“Get to it now, sir,” the judge commanded. “Before I also lose my patience. I am inclined to agree that Major Farraline is not in sufficient command of himself to offer anything of use.”

Argyll gritted his teeth.

Rathbone was leaning forward again, his hands clenched.

“Major Farraline,” Argyll resumed. “Did you meet with Miss Latterly alone, in the hallway, on that day, and have some conversation with her about the Farraline family business and its wealth?”

“What?”

“Oh really!” Gilfeather exploded.

“Yes,” Hector said with a moment of clarity. “Yes. On the stairs, as I recall. Spoke to her for several moments. Nice girl. Liked her. Pity.”

“Did you tell her that there had been money embezzled from the company books?”

Hector stared at him as if he had been bitten.

“No—no, of course not.” Then his eyes wandered away from Argyll and across to the gallery. He found Oonagh, and looked at her imploringly. She was pale-faced, her eyes wide.

“Major Farraline,” Argyll said firmly.

“My lord, this is inexcusable,” Gilfeather protested.

Argyll ignored him.

“Major Farraline, you are an officer of one of Her Majesty’s most renowned and battle-honored regiments. Remember yourself, sir! You are under oath! Did you not tell Miss Latterly that someone had been embezzling from the Farraline printing company?”

“This is monstrous,” Gilfeather cried, waving his arms furiously. “And completely irrelevant. Miss Latterly is on trial for the murder of Mary Farraline. This can have nothing to do with the case at issue.”

Alastair made as if to rise to his feet, then subsided again, his expression anguished.

“No I didn’t,” Hector said with another sudden rush of clarity. “I can remember it now. That was Mr. Monk I told. He went off to find McIvor about it, but he didn’t learn anything. Poor fool. I could have told him that. That’s all covered up now.”

There was a moment’s utter silence.

Rathbone sank onto the table in devastated relief.

Argyll’s dark face split into a grin.

The judge looked furious.

Monk punched his clenched fist into his open palm again and again till the flesh was bruised.

“Thank you, Major Farraline,” Argyll said quietly. “I am sure that you are right. It must have been Mr. Monk, and not Miss Latterly. That is my error, and I apologize.”

“Is that all?” Hector said curiously.

“Yes, thank you.”

Gilfeather swung around in a complete circle, staring at the gallery, the jurors, then at Hector.

Hector gave a discreet hiccup.

“Major Farraline, how many glasses of whiskey have you drunk this morning?” Gilfeather asked.

“I have no idea,” Hector said politely. “I don’t think I used a glass. Have one of those flasks, you know.
Why?”

“No matter, sir. That is all, thank you.”

Hector began to fumble his way down the steps.

“Oh …” Gilfeather said quickly.

Hector stopped three steps from the bottom, clinging on to the rail.

“Do you keep the company books, Major Farraline?”

“Me? No, of course not. Young Kenneth does.”

“Have you seen them lately, Major? Say, within the last two weeks?”

“No. Don’t think so.”

“Can you read company accounts, sir?”

“Never tried. Not interested.”

“Quite so. Do you need assistance down the steps., sir?”

“No I don’t, sir. Make my own way.” And with that he missed his footing and slid the last three steps, landing inelegantly at the bottom. He straightened himself and walked unaided and quite steadily back to the gallery and was given a seat.

“My lord”—Argyll turned to the judge—“in view of Major Farraline’s evidence, I would like to call Kenneth Farraline.”

Gilfeather was on his feet. He hesitated, a protest on his lips.

The judge sighed. “Do you object, Mr. Gilfeather? It seems there is some question of embezzlement, real or imagined.”

Argyll smiled. If Gilfeather gained the impression he was perfectly happy to be denied Kenneth, and leave doubt in the jury’s minds, or a question of appeal, so much the better.

“No objection, my lord,” Gilfeather conceded. “It would
be advisable to clear up all doubts.” He shot a tight smile at Argyll.

Argyll inclined his head in thanks.

Kenneth Farraline was called and took the stand looking acutely unhappy. He could feel the brooding, almost violent tension in the court, and he saw Argyll advance on him like a bear closing in for the kill.

“Mr. Farraline, your uncle, Major Hector Farraline, has told us that you keep the company books. Is that correct?”

“Irrelevant, my lord,” Gilfeather objected.

The judge hesitated.

“My lord, if there is embezzlement from the company books, and the head of that family has been murdered, it can hardly be irrelevant,” Argyll reasoned. “It provides an excellent motive, unconnected with Miss Latterly.”

The judge conceded the point, but with displeasure.

“You have not proved it yet, sir. So far it is merely a suggestion, indeed the ramblings of a man the worse for drink. If you cannot show something more substantial, I shall disallow it next time Mr. Gilfeather objects.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Argyll turned back to Kenneth. “Mr. Farraline, was your mother aware of Major Farraline’s beliefs that the books had been tampered with?”

“I … I …” Kenneth looked wretched. He stared at Argyll with eyes unfocused, as if he longed to be looking elsewhere.

“Sir?” Argyll prompted.

“I’ve no idea,” Kenneth said abruptly. “It’s …” He swallowed. “Nonsense. Complete nonsense.” He faced Argyll with something like a challenge. “There is no money missing whatsoever.”

“And you are the bookkeeper, so you would know?”

“Precisely.”

“And you would also be in the best position to conceal it, if there were?”

“That …” Kenneth swallowed. “That is slanderous, sir, and quite unjust.”

Argyll affected innocence.

“You would not be in the best position?”

“Yes … yes, of course I would. But there is nothing missing, nothing whatever.”

“And your mother was quite satisfied on that point?”

“I have said so!”

There was a murmur of disbelief around the room.

Gilfeather rose to his feet.

Argyll smiled. Kenneth was a very poor witness. He looked as if he were lying even if he were not.

“Very well, to another subject. Are you married, Mr. Farraline?”

“Irrelevant, my lord!” Gilfeather protested.

“Mr. Argyll,” the judge said wearily. “I will not tolerate any more of this meandering around. I have given you a great deal of latitude, but you have abused it.”

“It is relevant, my lord, I assure you.”

“I fail to see how.”

“Are you married, Mr. Farraline?” Argyll repeated.

“No.”

“Are you courting, sir?”

Kenneth hesitated, his face a dull red, sweat glistening on his lip. His eyes searched the gallery till they found Oonagh. He looked back at Argyll.

“No … no …”

“Have you then a mistress? One of which your family would not approve?”

Gilfeather started to rise, then realized the futility of it. Everyone in the room was waiting upon the answer. A woman moved and her stays creaked in the silence. A coal settled in one of the fires.

Kenneth gulped.

“No.”

“If I were to call Miss Adeline Barker to the stand, would she agree with you, Mr. Farraline?”

Kenneth’s face was scarlet.

“Yes … I mean, no. I … God damn it, it is none of
your business. I did not kill my mother! She—” He stopped again just as suddenly.

“Yes? She knew about it?” Argyll prompted. “She did not know about it?”

“I have nothing else to say. I did not kill my mother, and the rest is none of your affair.”

“A lady of expensive tastes,” Argyll went on. “Not easy to keep her satisfied—and generous, and loyal—on a bookkeeper’s salary, even when he works for the Farraline company.”

“There is no money missing,” Kenneth said sullenly. “Count it for yourself.” There was confidence in his voice now, a ringing quality as if he knew he could not be proved wrong.

Argyll heard it too.

“I daresay there is none missing now, but was that always the case?”

The confidence was gone. Now it was defense.

“Certainly. I told you, I have taken nothing, and I was not responsible for my mother’s death. For all I knew it was Miss Latterly, for the wretched pearls.”

“So you say, sir, so you say.” Argyll smiled politely. “Thank you, Mr. Farraline, I have nothing further to ask you.”

Gilfeather shrugged. “I have nothing to ask this witness, my lord. As far as I can see he has nothing whatever to do with the case.”

Rathbone leaned forward again, grasping Argyll’s shoulder. “Call Quinlan Fyffe,” he whispered fiercely.

Argyll did not turn.

“I have nothing to ask him,” he whispered back. “I’ll only weaken my case by looking desperate.”

“Think of something,” Rathbone insisted. “Get him up there….”

“There’s no point! Even if he knows who killed her, he isn’t going to say so. He’s a clever and very self-possessed
man. He isn’t going to flounder. He’s no Kenneth. Anyway, I’ve nothing to rattle him with.”

“Yes you have.” Rathbone leaned even farther forward, aware of the judge glaring at him, and the jury waiting. “Use his emotions. He’s a proud man, vain. He’s got a beautiful wife, and a brother-in-law who’s in love with her. He hates McIvor. Use his jealousy.”

“What with?”

Rathbone’s mind raced. “The company accounts. Eilish has been systematically taking books, with McIvor’s help, to teach her ragged school. I’ll wager Fyffe doesn’t know about that. For God’s sake, man, you’re supposed to
be
the best advocate in Scotland. Twist him. Use his emotions against him.”

“What about betraying Eilish?” Argyll asked. “Monk will be furious.”

“To hell with Eilish,” Rathbone said. “And Moni: too! This is Hester’s life!”

“Mr. Argyll,” the judge said loudly. “Are you concluding your case, or not?”

“No, my lord. The defense calls Quinlan Fyffe, may it please the court.”

The judge frowned. “For what purpose, Mr. Argyll? Mr. Gilfeather, are you aware of this?”

Gilfeather looked surprised, but interested, and not displeased.

The judge glanced at him.

Gilfeather lifted his shoulders slightly in the shadow of a shrug. “No, my lord, but if the court is prepared to wait for Mr. Fyffe to be sent for, I do not object. I think he will prove as useless to the defense’s case as Mr. Farraline.”

“Call Quinlan Fyffe!” the usher cried out. The words were echoed by the clerk at the door, and a messenger was duly dispatched.

In the interim the court was adjourned for luncheon.

When they returned over an hour later, Quinlan took the
stand and was sworn in. He faced Argyll with outward politeness but a coldness of glance that bordered on insolence.

“Mr. Fyffe,” Argyll began carefully, measuring his words. “You are one of the principal officers in the management of the Farraline printing company, are you not?”

“Yes sir.”

“In what capacity?”

Gilfeather made as if to rise, and then changed his mind.

“Is this relevant, Mr. Argyll?” the judge said with a sigh. “If you are about to raise the matter of the company accounts, I must warn you that unless you provide real evidence that there has indeed been embezzlement, I shall not allow you to proceed.”

Argyll hesitated.

“The missing books Eilish took,” Rathbone whispered furiously behind him.

“No, my lord,” Argyll said blandly, looking at the judge with an innocent smile. “That is not the area I wish to pursue at the moment.”

The judge sighed again. “Then I don’t know what you do want. I thought that was what you called this witness for.”

“Yes my lord, but after I have laid suitable groundwork.”

“Then proceed, Mr. Argyll, proceed,” the judge said irritably.

“Thank you, my lord. Mr. Fyffe, in what capacity do you serve the Farraline company?”