Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(5)

‘Then why belabour the point, sir?’ Sefton demanded.

The judge stiffened. ‘Mr Sefton, I will tell Mr Pitt what he may do. It is not your position.’

Sefton looked annoyed, but he apologised. He had no option.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ Daniel murmured. Then, before the judge lost patience completely, he continued, addressing Park, ‘You had reason for your judgement, did you not?’

Park blinked. Then slowly, his expression changed as he realised he was caught in something of a dilemma.

‘Sir . . .?’ Daniel did not let him have time to find a way out. ‘You did not warn John Hinton of Mr Blackwell’s temper, specifically in repayment of debt, because you yourself owed Mr Blackwell a considerable amount. Indeed, you still do! And yet you have not been shot—’

‘That’s a private matter between him and me!’ Park said, swivelling to look at the judge, and then at Sefton. ‘And it wasn’t that much. If my debt to Blackwell added to his . . . his violence . . . I’m sorry. But how could I know?’

‘Convenient, though, isn’t it?’ Daniel observed. ‘If they hang him for killing Hinton, he can’t come and collect from you.’

There was an uproar in the court. Now Park was leaning over the railing of the witness stand, face red with fury.

The jurors were looking at each other. One looked as if he were about to cheer.

Sefton was on his feet protesting.

Those in the public gallery were divided between outrage and hilarity.

The judge was demanding order in the court.

Daniel was very afraid he had gone too far.

It was at this point that he felt the tug on his sleeve, and he turned round and saw Apperly almost at his elbow. He was one of the clerks at fford Croft and Gibson, a man of indeterminate age and a sharper wit than most people gave him credit for. He looked untidy and out of breath as well, his frizzy hair all over the place. Right at this moment, he appeared profoundly unhappy. ‘I’m sorry—’ he began.

Daniel cut him off. ‘What? I’m in a mess, I know, but I’ll resolve it. I had to—’

‘You can’t,’ Apperly shook his head. ‘Dunham has had a motor accident. He’s rather badly hurt. Kitteridge is on a big case . . .’

Daniel was instantly sorry. ‘Poor devil. How is he? Is he going to be all right?’

‘Yes, yes, in time. A few weeks, or so. But he can’t assist Mr Kitteridge now. And it is a very serious case . . .’

‘I know,’ Daniel agreed. ‘Graves, or something like that. Murdered his wife.’

‘Yes,’ Apperly agreed. ‘It’s at the Old Bailey, and it’s going badly.’ He looked flushed and thoroughly miserable.

‘Well, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. If anybody can pull it off, it’s Kitteridge.’ That was true. He was the most gifted advocate in the firm, as he well knew and more than once had reminded Daniel. ‘As you can see, my case is . . . on the brink of disaster.’

‘All the same,’ Apperly insisted. ‘You’ve got to close it tonight, and then tomorrow go to the Old Bailey and take Dunham’s place. Mr fford Croft insists. I don’t know why, but this case matters to him deeply.’

‘Anyone could help Kitteridge,’ Daniel whispered. ‘He’ll do it all himself anyway. Poor Dunham just sits there and looks obedient.’

Apperly shook his head. ‘Mr fford Croft’s orders. Be there tomorrow morning.’

‘No.’ Daniel heard his own voice and scarcely believed it. You did not defy Marcus fford Croft – well, not twice, anyway. ‘I must finish this case . . .’

‘Blackwell’s a chancer,’ Apperly said firmly. ‘He couldn’t get away with it for ever. It’s not worth wrecking your career over.’

‘I don’t believe he’s guilty,’ Daniel insisted, aware that both Sefton and the judge were staring at him. ‘But even if he is, he deserves a decent defence . . . and I gave my word. I’ll come to the Old Bailey and fetch and carry for Kitteridge as soon as this case is closed.’ He felt his chest so tight he could hardly breathe, and the sweat stood out on his skin. Was he throwing everything away? His father would not forgive him. No – that was not true. He would be disappointed, profoundly, but even more so if he walked away. His father had taken many risks himself and understood the value of a man’s word.

The court was regaining order.

The judge was looking at Daniel with concern. ‘Are you ready to proceed, Mr Pitt?’

‘Yes, my lord. My company’s legal clerk has just—’

Apperly stepped forward. ‘Forgive me, my lord.’ He bowed his head, almost as if he were before royalty. ‘One of our barristers has had a serious traffic accident, and Mr Pitt is required to take his place.’

‘Now?’ the judge said with heavy disapproval.

‘No, my lord, tomorrow, early. I am informing him so that he can spend the night studying to catch up. I’m sorry, my lord. I did not realise I was interrupting.’

‘You are not, Mr Apperly,’ the judge said rather drily. ‘The interruption preceded you by several minutes. And now that order is restored, with your permission, we will continue the case of the Crown versus Roman Blackwell, in the matter of the unfortunate shooting of John Hinton. You may continue, Mr Pitt. You have about half an hour before we adjourn for the day. Make the best use of it you can.’