In the crowd, Enid Ravensbrook's haggard face was softened with pity for the distress she imagined so clearly. There was such a depth of feeling in her, Rathbone could not help the fleeting thought that perhaps she too had known such loneliness as a child.

“Yes?” he prompted Genevieve gently.

“Their sense of total loneliness,” she continued. “And the dreams and fears they had shared. When they were ill or frightened, they turned to each other. There was no one else to care for them. He could not forget that, no matter what Caleb might do to him now. He was always aware that life had been good to him, and for Caleb it had not proved so fortunate.”

In the dock Caleb let out a sound, half groan, half snarl. One of his gaolers touched him gently. The other sneered.

“Did he say that, Mrs. Stonefield?” Rathbone demanded. “Did he use those words, or is that your surmise?”

“No, he used those words, more than once.” Her voice was clear and decisive now. It was a statement.

“You were afraid that Caleb might harm your husband seriously, out of his envy at his success, and the hatred arising from that?” Rathbone asked.

“Yes.”

There was a murmur around the room, a shifting of weight. The sun had gone and the light was grayer across the wood.

“Did he not understand your feelings?” Rathbone asked.

“Oh yes,” she affirmed. “He shared them. He was terrified, but Angus was a man who set duty and honor above all, even his own life. It was a matter of loyalty. He said he owed Caleb a debt for the past and he could not live with himself if he were to run away now.”

One of the jurors nodded his approval and his determination deepened. He glanced up at the dock with bitter contempt.

“What was that debt, Mrs. Stonefield?” Rathbone asked. “Did he say?”

“Only a matter of Caleb having defended him on occasions when they were children,” she replied. “He was not specific, but I think it was from older boys, from teasing and bullying. He did imply that there had been some boy who had been especially brutal, and Caleb had always been the one to take the brunt of it and protect Angus.” The tears momentarily spilled down her face and she ignored them. “Angus never forgot that.”

“I see,” Rathbone said softly, smiling a little. “That is a sentiment of honor I imagine we can all understand and admire.” He gave the jury a moment or two to absorb the idea. Again he did not look at them. It would be far too unsubtle. “But you believe he was frightened, all the same,” he continued. “Why, Mrs. Stonefield?”

“Because before he went he would be restless and withdrawn,” she answered.

“Quite unlike his usual manner. He preferred to spend time alone, often pacing the floor. He would be pale-faced, unable to eat, his hands would shake and his mouth be dry. When someone is as deeply afraid as that, Mr.