“Where did they come from?” Winchester asked, making no attempt to hide his own distress.

If you had dropped a pin in the room, the sound of it would have been heard.

“Up and down the river,” Monk said. “Orphans, unwanted children, ones whose own parents couldn’t feed them.”

Winchester shivered. “When did they get to this boat? What were they doing there?”

“They were found and picked up at different times. They were used to participate in various sexual acts with older boys or men, for the entertainment of Mr. Parfitt’s clients. These acts were—”

Rathbone rose to his feet.

The judge looked at him. “Yes, Sir Oliver. I was wondering when you would object to this. Mr. Winchester, how does Mr. Monk know all this? Surely it was not apparent to the naked eye when he broke into the lower deck of this boat? And you have not yet shown any proof that it was indeed Mr. Parfitt’s boat. It could have been anyone’s.”

“My lord, I was going to ask what any of this appalling story has to do with Mr. Ballinger,” Rathbone responded.

“Mr. Winchester?” The judge raised his eyebrows.

Winchester smiled. “I admit, my lord, I was attempting to show for members of the jury what a particularly repulsive character the victim was, before Sir Oliver would do it for me, as I fear he will, so that we may all appreciate that he is likely to have had a great number of enemies, and very few friends indeed.”

There was a sigh of relief in the public gallery and a few faint titters of laughter. Even the jurors seemed to relax a little in their high-backed seats in the double jury row on the opposite side of the floor.

Rathbone could do nothing but concede the point.

The judge looked at Monk. “I hope you are not going to describe these acts, Commander Monk? If you intend to, I shall have to clear the court, at least of all ladies present.”

“I did not see them performed, my lord,” Monk said stiffly. “If I had been present, they would not have been. I was going to say that they were photographed, and the resulting pictures used to blackmail the wealthier men taking part.”

The judge frowned. “I was not aware that it was possible to photograph people who are moving, Mr. Monk? Does it not take between five and ten seconds exposure, even with the very latest equipment?”

“Yes, my lord,” Monk replied. “These pictures were posed for, deliberately. It was part of the initiation ceremony into the club. An added element of risk that, for these men, heightened their pleasure, and their sense of comradeship.”

“Did you know this at the time?”

“No, my lord, but because of previous experiences on another very similar boat farther down the river, I suspected much of it.” He looked at the judge coldly, his face hard and hurt.