“You don’t have some other escape plan up your sleeve, do you? Because if you do, I beg you not to try it.”

“Relax, Stone; I’ve learned my lesson about escaping.”

“I hope to God you have.”

Stone borrowed Thomas’s car and drove along the coast road to Leslie Hewitt’s house. He turned down the dirt road to the cottage and parked out front, next to Hewitt’s Morris Minor station wagon, and got out, taking a file folder with him. The front door of the house stood open, and Stone stepped inside. “Leslie!” he called. “You home?” There was no response. “Leslie!” he called again. He looked in the little study and in the kitchen, but the barrister was not in the house.

Stone walked out the back door and into the garden, but there was still no sight of Hewitt, not even down at the beach. He walked a few steps more, looked around, then turned to go back into the house. As he turned his eye drifted to his left and there, behind a low hedge, lay the inert form of Sir Leslie Hewitt, clad only in faded Bermuda shorts. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned away from Stone; a bucket of hand gardening tools lay next to him and a trowel was near his right hand.

“Leslie!” Stone cried, turning him over on his back and brushing dirt from his face. He slapped Hewitt’s face lightly and peeled back an eyelid. The pupil was contracted; thank God for that.

Suddenly Hewitt coughed, then opened his eyes. “Oh, good morning,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with a fist. “I must have dozed off.”

“Leslie, are you all right?” Stone asked. “You were out like a light.”

“Young man, when you are my age, you will take the occasional nap, too, believe me.” With Stone’s help, he got to his feet. “Well now, what brings you to see me?” he asked.

Stone wasn’t sure that Hewitt recognized him, and he didn’t want to ask. “I brought you some material to read in preparation for the trial,” he said. “Do you feel up to reading it?”

“Of course,” Hewitt replied. “Come into the house, Stone.”

Stone breathed a sigh of relief and followed him into the study.

Hewitt arranged himself behind his desk. “Now, what is it?” he asked, in the manner of a man who didn’t have much time for whatever Stone wanted of him.

Stone placed the file folder before him. “Leslie, I know you plan to give the opening and closing statements, but I put some thoughts together on how you might proceed, and I’d appreciate it if you’d read the two statements I’ve prepared. There might be something there you can use.”

“Of course I’ll read them,” Hewitt replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to my garden.”