Argyll's face flamed and his hands clenched on the rail. He swayed as if he might fall over. "My brother is dead, sir! Because Mary Havilland dragged him down with her! And you stand there and accuse him of... of what? How much courage does it take to accuse a murdered man? You disgrace the office you hold, and are a blemish to your profession!"

Dobie blanched, clearly embarrassed and momentarily at a loss to defend himself.

The judge looked from one to the other of them, then up at Aston Sixsmith, whose face was now expressionless. Lastly he looked at Jenny Argyll, who was ashen. Her gaze was fixed in the distance, as if she were held against her will by some inner vision, unable to tear herself from it.

Rathbone said nothing.

The judge looked at Dobie again. "Mr. Dobie, do you wish to rephrase your question? It seems inadequate as it is."

"I will move on, with your lordship's permission," Dobie said, clearing his throat and looking again at Argyll. "James Havilland was in the stables alone at midnight. For whom else would he keep such an extraordinary appointment?"

"I don't know!" Argyll protested.

"Have you ever seen this man they describe, whose teeth are apparently so uniquely recognizable? The man who, it is suggested, actually murdered your father-in-law?"

Argyll hesitated.

There was a faint cough in the gallery, a creak of whalebone stays, then silence.

Jenny Argyll looked up at Sixsmith. Their eyes met and lingered for a moment, then she turned away. What was it Monk saw in Sixsmith s face? Pity for what she was about to lose? Forgiveness that she had not had the courage to do it before? Or anger that she had let him suffer right to the brink, and spoken up only when she had been forced to? His look was steady and unreadable.

Argyll swallowed. "Yes. As Sixsmith said, I wanted to hire someone to prevent the unrest among navvies regarding safety, and stop the toshers, whose territories were disappearing, from becoming violent and disrupting the excavations." He drew in his breath. "We have to finish the new sewers as soon as possible. The threat of disease is appalling."

There was a rustle of movement in the room.

Monk stared at the jury. There was unease among them, but no sympathy. Did they believe him?

"We are aware of this, Mr. Argyll," Dobie answered, beginning to regain his composure. "It is not what you are doing that we question, only the methods you are willing to employ in order to accomplish them. You admit that you met this man, and that you gave Mr. Sixsmith the money to pay him for his work?"

The answer seemed torn from Argyll. "Yes! But to quell violence, not to kill Havilland!"