"No. I believe he assumed that I would want to be involved since I had been investigating the risk of just such a disaster, because of James Havilland's fears and his subsequent death. Also, of course, we were doing all we could to help, as were the Metropolitan Police, the fire services, and various doctors, navvies, and any able-bodied men in the area."

"Your point is taken, Sir Oliver," the judge assured him. He turned to Monk. "I would like to know, Inspector, what you found. Was it of the nature that you had been led to fear?"

"Yes, my lord," Monk replied. "That, and greater."

"Please be more specific."

It was the line that Rathbone had intended to take, so Monk was happy to respond. "James Havilland had intimated that he feared a disaster if there was not a great deal more time and care taken in the excavations. He did not record precisely what he feared-or if he did, I did not find it. There are risks of land movement-slippage, subsidence-in any major work. He seemed to fear something further. What seems to have occurred last night was that the diggings went too close to an underground river and the river burst the walls, carrying an enormous weight of earth and rubble with it, and flooding the tunnels."

There was too much noise of horror and distress from the gallery and jurors for Monk to continue, and even the judge looked stricken. Obviously the news had not yet reached the daily papers, and few had heard it even by word of mouth.

"Silence!" the judge ordered, but there was no anger in his voice. He was calling his court to order, but without criticism. "I assume, Mr. Monk, that you are here, in spite of your appalling night, because there is some evidence Sir Oliver feels pertinent to the case, even at this late stage of events?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well. Sir Oliver, please ask your questions."

"Thank you, my lord," Rathbone acknowledged. "Mr. Monk, during the course of the night, did you bring to the surface any bodies of the dead or the still living?"

"Yes."

"Were any of them people that you knew?"

"Yes."

"Who were they?"

"Two navvies that I had spoken with, a tosher-a man who retrieves objects of value from the sewers-and one other man whom I had met once before." He stopped abruptly, memories of the pistol shot and Scuff falling momentarily choking his breath. He was so tired that the past and present collided with each other and the courtroom seemed to sway.

"Where did you meet him before, Mr. Monk?"

Monk realized that Rathbone had asked him twice. He stiffened his back and shoulders. "In the sewers," he replied. "When I was looking for the man Mrs. Ewart saw coming out of the mews after James Havilland was shot."

"You did not arrest him?" Rathbone sounded surprised.