by Anne Perry
Daniel felt a wave of shame engulf him knowing that had ever been in question.
“Don’t look so surprised!” Marcus said sharply. “I meant what I said. No empty threats. In my place, would you keep a man who professed to be defending a client, while actually sitting as judge, jury, and executioner of the poor bastard, without telling him?”
Daniel could feel the flush washing up his cheeks. “No, sir…”
“Good. Because you haven’t a snowflake’s chance in hell of ever sitting in my chair if you would. Your first duty is to the law! Family, friends, anybody else comes after that! I hope you really mean that?”
“Yes, sir. I need to know the truth before I can defend Sidney. For that, I need to know who Cross gave the papers to, and how they got them out of the embassy and to London. And if possible, why. For themselves, or because someone else asked them to? And if so, I want the name of that someone.”
Marcus’s face softened into a seraphic smile. “Excellent. You want to see Sir John Armitage. High office in the British Embassy in Washington. In London for a few weeks. Or maybe it’s a few days. Comes this way regularly. I’ll arrange. Don’t let me down by being in awe of him. He’s a clever man, but he’s got two arms and two legs, just like you. Now go and make yourself useful. I’ll let you know what I’ve arranged. And straighten yourself up a bit! You look like you’ve been crawling around the floor, searching for something you’ve dropped. Reminds me of your father—in his early days!”
“The lawn, sir.”
“What?”
“Crawling around the lawn. I was speaking to Flannery.”
“Well…I suppose you know what you’re doing! Can’t imagine it myself.”
“He has a three-year-old daughter, sir.”
Marcus sighed. “Ah! That explains everything.”
For an instant, Daniel remembered Miriam fford Croft, Marcus’s daughter. She was thirty-nine now, fourteen years older than Daniel, brilliant, irrepressible, eccentric, and, underneath it, Daniel had glimpsed, vulnerable as well. He had not seen her since the Graves case, three months ago. Perhaps Marcus did know about little girls?
“Thank you, sir,” he said quietly, and escaped to see what he and Kitteridge could do between them.
* * *
—
IT WAS TWO long and unproductive hours later when Impney came into the library with Kitteridge’s tea and excused himself to speak to Daniel. “I have a taxicab waiting for you, sir. It has instructions to take you to the Foreign Office, where Sir John Armitage will see you. If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, you had best hurry. You don’t want to make a bad impression by being late, and…er…you might tidy yourself up a bit?” He flushed slightly at his own temerity.
“Thank you, Impney. Indeed, I don’t!” Daniel smiled. “And yes, I’ll find a comb, and even a mirror.”
He left Kitteridge sending another wire to the Washington police, asking them to track down Morley Cross and learn more about those receipts and invoices. Who was this Cross fellow, and why had he waited so long before exposing Philip Sidney’s embezzlement?
Daniel spent the whole ride, although it was not so very long, forming and re-forming in his mind exactly what he was going to say. He could not forgive himself if he spoiled this one chance to speak to Armitage in a non-adversarial setting. Never mind what Marcus would think of him!
He arrived at the Foreign Office, climbed out, paid the driver, then stood on the pavement in the wind, wishing he were almost anywhere else. He would be late if he didn’t go now. He must ignore his hair across his face, and his heart beating as if he were going into the lion’s den.
He was a trifle more composed when he was shown to Sir John Armitage’s door, and a moment later was in a luxurious suite. It was no doubt meant to impress, and it succeeded. The room was full of sunlight, which streamed through the huge windows open to the sky and a few lush green treetops, leaves twisting and turning in the wind.
There was no time to appreciate the paintings or the polished mahogany furniture, the Aubusson carpets. Armitage stood in the center of the room, a tall and rather handsome man with thick hair swept back from keen features, almost arrogant, but for a courteous smile on his face. Or to be more correct, on his mouth. It did not reach his eyes. How much of his agreeing to see Daniel was due to Marcus fford Croft, and how much to Sir Thomas Pitt? To resent it was stupid. Better to use it wisely.
“Daniel Pitt,” Daniel introduced himself. “Thank you for sparing me time at such short notice.” He made it courteous, not too grateful. He watched Armitage’s face. He could read nothing in it.
“Not at all.” Armitage turned and indicated one of the armchairs. “I understand from fford Croft that it is urgent. And that it has to do with the miserable business of Philip Sidney.”
“Yes, sir. My firm has been engaged to present his defense.”
Armitage’s eyebrows rose and a slight smile touched his lips. “And do you believe he’s innocent?”
Daniel smiled back. It was good manners, without humor. “Of course, sir. Until proved otherwise, beyond reasonable doubt.”
“Do you always do exactly what you are hired for?” Armitage asked curiously.
“If I’m going to make a mistake, it will be more interesting and less fundamental than that.”
“I think you will go far. I am not yet prepared to say in which direction,” Armitage replied. “What exactly do you want of me? Remembering that my first duty is to my country, and incidentally yours also, not to the defense of your client, if they should prove to be incompatible.”
“The first thing I need to do is get to as much of the truth as I can.”
“It will always be only partial.”
“Sometimes you can tell a beast by only the shape of his head, sir. Of course, if it is one you’ve never seen before, the rest of it could be anything.” Before Armitage could reply, Daniel went on. “The signatures on the papers appear to be genuine, but we have not had an expert look at them.”
“The papers are not in your custody, for heaven’s sake?” For a moment, Armitage sounded alarmed.
“No, sir. But we do have limited access to them. I want to establish who realized they were not for genuine expenses, and why they were looking at old letters of transfer anyway. And why the money was not missed earlier. Who brought them over to England? It must have been after the incident at the Thorwood house, but not long after. I believe you were instrumental in assisting Philip Sidney to avoid prosecution in that matter?” He kept his voice soft, with hardly any emotion at all in it.
A shadow crossed Armitage’s face. “Yes. I thought it best. Public opinion was outraged, and he had…an unfortunate manner. Some people thought him arrogant. He gave the impression sometimes of thinking he had a right to things that were, in fact, privileges for which he should have been grateful. In the diplomatic service, you learn quite quickly how important it is to placate, to compliment, to evade unpleasantness always, even if the other person is unreliable or belligerent. Sidney didn’t…didn’t always control his impulses.” He did not move his gaze from Daniel’s. “I care very much how our country is perceived abroad. We can afford mistakes now and then. Everyone makes them. But not many! Not many at all! Sidney may well have had to go, but it was dreadful that it should be this way.”
Daniel did not interrupt.
“I had no idea about the money, though,” Armitage went on. “I gather it was not even a large amount? Possibly he was bored, and did it just to see if he could get away with it.”
Daniel looked down and noticed Armitage’s hands in his lap, knuckles shining white where the skin was stretched across the bones. The subject disturbed him. Perhaps he was embarrassed? After all, he was Sidney’s superior, and responsible for him.
“We will argue the case the best we can,” Daniel promised. “And the money ha
s to have been taken by someone in the embassy. I assume no outsider would have had access?”
“No. And even if they did, we are hardly going to create a diplomatic incident by blaming some gardener or housemaid!” Armitage’s face was pulled tight with distaste. “I wish I could make the whole miserable episode go away, but it is far too late for that.” He was now watching Daniel intently. “Have you noticed how often it is not the crime or the disaster of a scandal that brings down an otherwise great man, but the lies he tells to avoid admitting it?”
Daniel was not sure whether the question was rhetorical. He decided to answer anyway. “That is a profound observation, sir. I think many people might agree with you, if you put it to them—”
“And you don’t?” Armitage’s eyes were wide and angry.
“I wasn’t going to say that, sir. I was going to remark that it would be an excellent thing for a lawyer to remember at all times. It is not what the witness or the accused has done, it is what he will lie about. And that is useful in different ways, depending on whether he is for you or against you.”
Armitage drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “I apologize. I interrupted you far too soon. I hope I am never on a witness stand with you against me. You are much sharper than I thought. A bad error, that, to underestimate your opponent.”
Daniel smiled. “Then perhaps you should not have warned me, sir.”
“Hmm…” There was a surprising flash of humor in Armitage’s eyes.
“I thank you for your wisdom,” Daniel said, holding his breath for a moment. “But I cannot afford to waste the valuable time you have given me. I need to find all I can about these letters and, most importantly, how they attracted the attention of Morley Cross, and then got to England. Mr. fford Croft told me that if anyone at all could help me, it would be you. He also said that you would be the most likely person to help because you would find it deeply hurtful to see a man of Sidney’s…possible standing, of his name…convicted of two miserable crimes in America. The embezzlement is petty and wretched. The assault upon Miss Thorwood is disgusting.”
Armitage sat up a little straighter. “My God, he’s not being charged with that?” He closed his eyes. “Damnation! I should have seen it. How blind I am. Of course! That’s what this is all about! The embezzlement’s a set-up job so the assault can be brought in, if not as a charge, at the very least as a slur on his character. The jury will convict him just to see him punished for the assault! I wonder who the hell is behind it?” He leaned forward a little, his face now in the sunlight through the window. “Pitt, do you know? If you are sitting there in that chair and you know who’s behind it, and you don’t tell me, I’ll—” He stopped suddenly. “I apologize. You would not commit such an act of betrayal against your country.”
Daniel found himself gripping the chair arms and shaking very slightly.
Armitage waited for him to speak.
Daniel’s mind raced. “I don’t know the truth, Sir John. But I need to before I stand up in court and start asking questions. I’ve heard about the Thorwood incident, but it’s all hearsay. It sounds very ugly, but cannot be pursued legally here. So it was you who helped Sidney to leave America…?”
“Who told you that?” Armitage demanded.
“Mr. Sidney, sir.”
Armitage relaxed. “Yes. Of course. I forgot that you would naturally have been to visit him. How is he?”
“Frightened, of course. He risks being convicted for something he swears he did not do.”
“But you will defend him? And see that this other damned business does not come out. Thorwood swore it was Sidney he saw, you know?”
“So I believe. If you could help me trace whose hands those letters passed through? And if possible, why the actual money was not missed before? It raises questions, at least. Was Morley Cross involved…or someone else? Maybe someone who is even entirely responsible for the crime. If there was an audit done, or something of that nature, then the thief may have taken the chance to make it seem as if Sidney were responsible. Hanged for a sheep as a lamb, so to speak.”
Armitage stared steadily at Daniel for several seconds. “Indeed,” he said at last. “I see you want to clear Sidney’s name as much as I do, because it’s indirectly England’s name. Damn it! In the Washington embassy, of all places! Yes. Yes, I’ll certainly get as much of that information as I can, and let you know as soon as I do. I’ll keep in touch with fford Croft.” He rose to his feet. “Good luck. God knows you’re going to need it!”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Daniel stood and, with a brief inclination of his head, walked out of the magnificent sunny room and into the corridor, feeling definitely encouraged.
* * *
—
“YOU’VE GOT TO get these looked at by an expert while you still have them,” Kitteridge said urgently. He had offered Daniel his help to search the letters. He was still sitting at his desk, his bow tie crooked, his jacket behind him on the chair, and his shirt rumpled. He looked exhausted. “The prosecution’s clerk has gone, but he’ll be back in the morning, and he’ll expect to collect them then.”
“Thank you.” Daniel looked at the scattered papers. “I really appreciate it. But where am I going to find an expert at this time of day?” He flopped down in the chair opposite Kitteridge’s desk. “It’s after five now!”
Kitteridge ran his fingers through his hair, making it look even worse. His eyes were red-rimmed from straining over untidy, handwritten notes. “Only one place I know, good enough to have any idea what they’re doing, discreet enough to trust, and willing to work all night.”
“In your dreams?” Daniel asked sarcastically.
“Yours, perhaps,” Kitteridge said with a wry smile, oddly not unkind, considering the edge to his words.
Daniel stared at him.
“Miriam, of course,” Kitteridge said sharply. “Don’t sit there blinking at me like an owl. We might like to think we solved the Graves case, but we wouldn’t have done so without her. You know that as well as I do. Have a cup of tea and think what you’re going to say, then you’d better go and get her.”
“What if she’s not there?”
“Then you go and find where she is, for heaven’s sake! And bring back with you any equipment she needs. We can’t take the letters out of the office. I’ve signed a promise to that effect. Otherwise, the clerk would have taken them. I said I’d work on them all night, if necessary.”
“So, you will!” Daniel said, standing up wearily. He did not want to go and see Miriam fford Croft again; she made him feel both comfortable and uncomfortable, often at the same time. During the months between the end of the Graves case and now, he had thought of visiting her on several occasions but had always changed his mind.
“Get on with it!” Kitteridge said impatiently.
“I’ll be back as soon as I find her,” Daniel promised. “If Impney is going to be here, you should send him out to get some sandwiches or something.”
“I’ll get them myself,” Kitteridge said, standing up slowly, unbending from the position he had been in too long. “And some ale. If you pricked me, I’d bleed tea.” He knocked himself on the corner of the desk and swore mildly.
Daniel found himself smiling. Kitteridge was such an odd mixture of emotions, control, obedience, and vulnerability. It showed far more than he knew.
They went out together, telling Impney when they expected to be back.
“Yes, sir,” Impney said, without the slightest change of expression.
They parted at the corner of the street, Kitteridge to the left to the best public house to buy supper, Daniel to the right to find a cab to take him to the fford Croft home, where Miriam lived and had her laboratory.
* * *
—
HE ARRIVED MORE rapidly than he was prepared for. He told the cabby to wait. If she was home, h
e would try to persuade her as quickly as possible to come back to the office with him. If she was out, he would have to start looking for her. The servants might not know where she had gone or be willing to tell Daniel, even though, since she was Marcus’s daughter, they of course knew him.
It was three months since he had been here. It seemed like only days. The path down to the separate cellar entrance was familiar. He knew where the cracked step was, and the paving stone that wobbled. He rang the bell and heard it jangle on the inside.
There was no answer. He felt a rush of emotion. Relief? Disappointment? Now what? Try the main house. He took a step backward.
The door opened and Miriam stood in the entrance. She looked just the same as the last time he saw her: high cheekbones, fair skin, too strong a nose, too wide a mouth, and bright auburn hair, pinned back absentmindedly, one long strand having fallen out of its original knot.
“Mr. Pitt?” she said in some surprise. She had called him “Daniel” when they had worked together.
On the ride here he had considered several different ways of asking her to help immediately, without anything to offer her but an intellectual exercise and gratitude. It looked extraordinarily graceless. How could he even begin, without sounding ridiculous? How on earth had it once seemed so natural? He knew all sorts of things about her: what made her laugh, what angered her, what she read, her ambitions—both the ones she had achieved and those that were denied her because women did not do such things, like become recognized forensic pathologists. And that her birthday was in October, and this year she would be forty! She must look at him as if he were a boy.
“You are not looking for my father or you would have gone to the front door, not the cellar,” she remarked. “So, you are looking for me. You want some information? You don’t appear to have anything with you, so you have nothing you want tested. Not another corpse to dig up, I trust? You are a little early. We don’t do that sort of thing until midnight. It tends to disturb the locals.”
