Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(84)

‘Yes, sir.’ Relief eased throughout Daniel’s aching nerves. ‘I think Mr Kitteridge will always go with the law.’

‘And you won’t?’ fford Croft raised his hand. ‘No, don’t tell me, I will affect ignorance as long as I can. So, the publisher will decide against publishing Graves’ beastly book? Are you sure?’

‘I hope so, sir. We managed to get several people whose families were implicated in it, to explain their extreme displeasure at the idea, and make it plain that these feelings might result in some very . . . costly outcomes for the publishers, should they so slander their parents, or whoever it was who was mentioned. A certain peer of the realm still carries fond memories of Lady Vespasia. Any further reference to certain people’s frailties, when it was quite unnecessary, would be similarly treated. This book would awaken a lot of . . . nasty recollections, which should be let go of.’

‘And how did you find that out, young man?’

‘A lot of detailed study, sir.’ Daniel kept his face perfectly straight.

‘And a lot of help from that scoundrel Blackwell, no doubt,’ fford Croft said wryly.

‘A little,’ Daniel admitted.

Marcus grunted. ‘Be careful who you trust, Daniel. You are very young and a good deal too idealistic.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Marcus slapped his hand on the desk. ‘Don’t “Yes, sir” me, dammit! I know there is no use warning you. I tried warning your father, and he went his own way. But while you work for fford Croft and Gibson, you’ll do as I tell you. If you don’t, you’d better be careful I don’t catch you.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Yes, sir, what? You’ll be careful?’

Daniel smiled sweetly. ‘Yes, sir.’ He stood a little straighter. ‘But we have a lot more to do, sir. Ebony Graves is to be charged later this morning. I have promised to represent her, sir, and I trust the charges will be withdrawn against Graves. With your permission, sir, Mr Kitteridge will be in court also, to be certain there is no error.’

‘I will be in court myself,’ fford Croft answered him. ‘This is a spectacle worth seeing. I dare say Miriam will, too. She will not forgive me if I leave her out of it. We will be there at eleven o’clock. Now get all your information in order and don’t disgrace us by making an ass of yourself, when you are this close to winning!’

‘No, sir, thank you.’ Daniel turned to leave, with a sigh of relief. Then a new burst of energy as he thought just how much there still was to prepare.

Daniel left fford Croft’s office and almost bumped into Blackwell, and his chest tightened until he could hardly breathe.

Blackwell’s face broke into a slow smile.

‘Tell me, tell me,’ Daniel demanded.

‘I went to see a certain publisher,’ Blackwell said, ‘and managed to persuade him that publishing a particular biography would be against his interests. Very much against them, indeed. It would make him a remarkable number of enemies in very powerful places. I’m happy to say I scared him out of his wits!’ His face was transformed by a dazzling smile. ‘Serve the bastard right!’

Daniel was almost too choked to speak. He took Roman’s hand and shook it. ‘Thank you! Thank you, Blackwell.’

The hearing of the appeal of Russell Graves against the sentence of death in the murder of his wife, Ebony Graves, began at eleven o’clock exactly. Kitteridge appeared for Russell Graves, who sat in the court looking ashen. He seemed at least ten years older than the last time Daniel had seen him.

It was not an appeal as to a matter of error in the law, but that was how it seemed at the outset.

Kitteridge looked nervous, although he could hardly fail.

‘My lord, Russell Graves has been found guilty of murdering his wife, Ebony Graves. To prove that it is incorrect in law, I would like to call one witness, if it pleases your lordships.’

There was a moment of total silence, then one of the three judges of appeal nodded very gravely. ‘You had better be certain of your facts, beyond a doubt, Mr Kitteridge. Who is your witness, and how are they relevant to this case?’

‘My witness is Mrs Ebony Graves, my lord,’ Kitteridge said perfectly steadily.

There was a moment of blank disbelief, then gasps; someone cried out in denial. There were shouts and the sound of movement as several journalists shot to their feet and stumbled out, making for the street. Daniel turned to look back and up at the dock. Graves was paralysed with shock. He was leaning forward, as if he could not believe what Kitteridge was saying.

At last the presiding judge leaned forward. ‘I will not tolerate levity in this extremely serious matter, Mr Kitteridge. Be warned, should you fail, your client is due to be hanged very soon. And you will be severely punished if this is done in anything but the best good faith.’

‘My lord, my witness is Mrs Ebony Graves, or was so, to the best of my knowledge and belief, until earlier this year,’ Kitteridge replied.

The judge’s temper was clearly frayed. ‘I don’t know what you mean. You had better proceed, but if you are acting in anything but the best possible faith, not only will your client pay for it with his life, you will pay for it with your career.’

‘Yes, my lord. I call Ebony Graves to the stand.’

There was utter silence as Ebony appeared. She was dressed in dark grey, even though it was a bright May morning. She looked sober, but not bowed. She walked with her head high and her black hair gleaming in the courtroom lights. Her expression was composed, and at a glance you would have thought she was without nerves. But Daniel could see the stiffness of her shoulders, and the hand nearest to him was clenched, knuckles white.