The trial had finished promptly, so Monk was home comparatively early. The weather was bright and clear, and the February evening stretched out with no clouds-only trails of chimney smoke across the waning sky. It was going to freeze, and as he alighted from the omnibus the stones beneath his feet were already filmed with ice. But the air tasted fresh and the sweetness of victory was in it. The sun was low, and its reflection on the pale stretches of the river hurt his eyes. The masts of the ships were a black fretwork like wrought iron against the rich colors of the horizon beyond the rooftops.

He turned and walked smartly up Union Road to Paradise Place and then up the short path to his front door. As soon as he was inside he called out Hester's name.

She must have heard the triumph in his voice. Her face eager, she appeared at the top of the stairs from the bedroom, where she had been sitting with Scuff.

"We won!" he said, starting up the steps two at a time. He caught hold of her and swung her around, kissing her lips, neck, cheek, and lips again. "We won it all! Sixsmith was convicted of no more than attempted bribery, and fined. Everyone knew that Argyll was guilty, and he's probably been arrested already. I didn't wait to see. Rathbone was brilliant, superb. Margaret was so proud of him, she absolutely glowed."

The bedroom door was open, and Scuff was sitting up staring at them. He looked unnaturally pink. His hair was actually much fairer than Monk had supposed. He seemed to have forgotten about the lace on his nightgown, or even that it was Hester's. His shoulder must hurt him, but he was making little of that, too. Now his eyes were bright with expectation, longing to be told all there was to hear.

Hester led Monk into the room and sat on the bed herself so that he could recount it to them both.

"Yer won!" Scuff said excitedly. "They gonna get Argyll fer killin' poor 'Avilland, an' Miss Mary as well? Yer gonna bury 'em proper?"

"Yes," Monk said simply.

Scuffs eyes were shining. He was sitting close to Hester, quite naturally. Both of them seemed to be unaware of it. " 'Ow d'yer do it?" he said, hungry for any piece of information. He had sorely missed being there to see it himself.

"Would you like a cup of tea before we begin?" Hester asked.

Scuff looked at her with total incomprehension.

Monk rolled his eyes.

She smiled. "Right! Then you get nothing until it's all told, every last word!"

He began with the day's proceedings, recounting it as a story of adventure with all the details, looking at their faces, and enjoying himself. He described the courtroom, the judge, the jurors, the men and women in the gallery, and every witness. Scuff barely breathed; he could hardly bring himself even to blink.