Part 18 (1/2)

The lady sat heavily opposite me.

*And a big slice of pie,' she called. *I do hope she heard. Oh, you are that horrid policeman.'

*Am I?' Inspector Pound smiled uneasily.

*You know you are.' She turned the pot so that the handle faced her. *Trying to convince everybody that that sweet little man is a murderer. Well, you have not deceived the jury, I hope. One look at William Ashby tells you he is innocent.'

*But all the evidence points to his guilt,' Inspector Pound said.

*Evidence is a trained monkey.' The woman peeped into our milk jug. *It will point wherever you want it to but it does not mean anything by it.' She sniffed the milk and poured a lot into her cup.

Sidney Grice laughed and said, *I had not thought of it in those terms before. Might I help you with your hat, madam? It looks like it is about to escape.'

*Like an untrained monkey,' the inspector said, producing a neat meerschaum pipe and a small penknife to sc.r.a.pe it out.

*No, you may not.' The woman jerked her head away and her hat slipped a little further back.

The waitress returned with a jug of hot water and a cup and saucer as the inspector tapped some tar-soaked strands into a brown china ashtray.

*No pie?' As the lady asked, Sidney Grice leaned towards her. *Leave it alone, sir.'

Sidney Grice leaned back.

*I was merely trying to see how it was fastened, or not, in this case.'

*For goodness' sake,' I said. *A man's life is in the balance and all you can worry about is tea and millinery.'

*It is from the seemingly trivial that some of our greatest advances have been made,' Sidney Grice said, and seemed about to take something from his inside breast pocket but then to think better of it.

*Quite so.' Inspector Pound brought out a scratched leather pouch and unb.u.t.toned the flap. *Where would we be today, for example, without James Watt's observations of the steam from a kettle?'

*It would be nice to see a bit more steam from the kettles in this cafe,' Sidney Grice said. *This tea is cold as Sarah Ashby.'

Inspector Pound laughed and tamped some tobacco lightly into his pipe with his finger.

*That is a filthy thing to say,' I said as the doorbell clattered again and a police constable came in breathlessly, brus.h.i.+ng past the waitress and straight to our table. He bent and whispered into Inspector Pound's ear.

*So soon?' The inspector raised his eyebrows and the constable mouthed, *Yes, sir.'

Inspector Pound slipped an unstruck match back into its box and nodded to Sidney Grice.

*Come, Miss Middleton.' My guardian stood up abruptly.

*Are you going?' the woman asked.

*It would seem so,' I said, and she smiled contentedly and tapped the pot with her spoon, saying, *All the more for me then.'

Sidney Grice slapped a s.h.i.+lling on to the table and said, *Good day, madam. I hope your pie arrives soon or there shall be nothing left of you.'

There were still people queuing to get into the cafe as we hurried back down the street.

*Why the hurry?' I asked. *The jury cannot have been out for half an hour yet.'

*Well, they are back in now.' Sidney Grice was limping badly. *So we should be in time to see how Ashby takes the news.'

*Two to one says he tries to change his story,' Inspector Pound said.

*Not him,' Sidney Grice said. *Besides, what could he change it to?'

*He could claim it was suicide,' the inspector said with a thin laugh.

I made no response as we re-entered the building. I was still hoping that the jury would see what the lady and I had seen a the innocence of his eyes.

23.

The Verdict We had hardly reclaimed our seats when it was time for us to rise for the judge. The twelve men filed in and William Ashby was brought back into the dock. He stumbled as he climbed the steps and grabbed his escort's arm to steady himself.

*I beg your pardon,' he said and stood looking about him, at Grace Dillinger sitting anxiously with the priest, at the jury grave-faced in their box, at Inspector Pound, Sidney Grice and me, then back at Grace Dillinger who tried to force a smile.

*All be seated,' the usher called as the judge adjusted his wig.

The chairman of the jury handed a note to the usher, who gave it to the clerk, who pa.s.sed it on to the judge, who unfolded it with a weary air.

*Members of the jury in the case of the Queen versus William Ashby, have you come to a verdict?'

The chairman stood, a petty thin-lipped man, suddenly finding himself important.

*We have, my lord.'

William Ashby coughed helplessly into a bloodstained handkerchief.

*And is it the decision of you all?'

*It is, my lord.'

*The prisoner will stand.'

William Ashby rose painfully, his eyes etched grey, his right hand holding the polished bra.s.s rail.

*On the charge of wilfully murdering his wife, one Sarah Ashby, how do you find the prisoner?'

The chairman paused to savour the greatest moment of his life and the words which decided William Ashby's rang out proudly. *Guilty, my lord.' His face glowed with the death that he delivered and the courtroom burst into a fusillade of clapping and cheers.