“Yes, frequently,” Ravensbrook acknowledged. “He both hated and despised his brother.”

“Despised him?” Rathbone affected surprise.

Ravensbrook's face was bitter. “He thought Angus weak and dependent, lacking in either courage or individuality. He thought him a coward, and said so. I imagine it was his way of excusing his own failure, in his mind.”

“Possibly.” Rathbone nodded. “We are, most of us, loath to admit fault in ourselves. Thank you, my lord. That is all I have to ask you. Would you be so good as to remain for my learned friend to speak with you.”

Ebenezer Goode was courteous, and at least outwardly genial. He rose to his feet and strolled into the center of the floor, his startling face full of interest.

“All this must be deeply distressing for you, Lord Ravensbrook. It would be for any man. I shall be as brief as I am able.” He sighed. “You have painted a vivid picture of two brothers who began with a deep bond between them and grew apart, one favored, obedient, talented; the other rebellious, unconventional, and rightly or wrongly, feeling himself less favored. It was not surprising he should express a resentment and a jealousy.” He glanced at the jury with his dazzling, wolfish smile. “Brothers do fight with each other at times. Any family man will tell you that. Yet you say that you never witnessed any of their fights?”

“That is correct.” There was no expression on Ravensbrook's face.

“And the resultant injuries, whether from fights or other youthful masculine pursuits,” Goode pursued, “such as climbing trees, riding horses and so on, were they serious? For example, were there ever broken bones, concussions, dangerous bleeding?”

“No, merely abrasions and some severe bruising.” Ravensbrook remained expressionless, his voice flat.

“Tell me, my lord, did either brother suffer these injuries very much more severely than the other?” Goode inquired.

“No. No, as far as I can remember, they were fairly equally matched.”

Goode shrugged. “And nothing was serious, nothing that you would consider a wounding, never intent to maim or permanently to damage?”

“No.”

“In other words, much as you or I may well have sustained in our youth?”

“Yes, if you will,” Ravensbrook agreed, his voice still without lift or interest, as though the entire subject were tedious.

“So in your knowledge, this regrettable jealousy never resulted in anything more than words?” Goode pressed.

“Not in my knowledge.”

Goode gave the court his wide, gleaming smile.

“Thank you, my lord. That is all.”

And so the trial progressed, and continued throughout the afternoon and the following day. Rathbone called Arbuthnot, who testified that Angus had come into the offices on the day of his disappearance, that a woman had visited him, after which he had declared that he was going to visit his brother, and expressed his intention to return, at least by the following day.

Ebenezer Goode could not shake him, and did not try.