A tall, elegantly dressed man with a military bearing and wearing what looked like a schoolmaster’s gown stepped forward, and led the seven men and five women of the jury out of the courtroom. Moments later, the judge rose from her place, bowed to the court and returned to her chambers.

“What did you make of the summing up?” asked Emma.

“Measured and fair,” Mr. Trelford assured her. “You have nothing to complain about.”

“And how long do you think it will take them to reach a decision?” Giles asked.

“It’s impossible to predict. If they are all in agreement, which I think is highly unlikely, no more than a couple of hours. If they are divided, it could be a couple of days.”

“Can I read the letter Major Fisher sent to you?” asked Sebastian innocently.

“No, you cannot, Mr. Clifton,” said Trelford, pushing the envelope further down into his inside pocket, “and nor can anyone else, unless and until Mrs. Justice Lane allows me to reveal its contents. I cannot, and will not, go against the express wishes of the judge. Good try, though,” he said, grinning at Seb.

*   *   *

“How long are we expected to hang about?” asked Virginia, who was sitting with her counsel on the other side of the courtroom.

“I’ve no idea,” said Sir Edward. “If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say a day, possibly two.”

“And why did Major Fisher address his last letter to Trelford and not to you?”

“That I haven’t been able to work out. But I confess I’m puzzled why Trelford didn’t press the judge more strongly to be allowed to read the letter to the jury, if it was at all likely to benefit his client.”

“Perhaps he was bluffing?”

“Or double-bluffing.”

“Am I safe to take a couple of hours off?” asked Virginia. “There’s something I need to do.”

“Why not? I can’t see the jury returning before this afternoon.”

Chapter 45

45

HARRY HADN’T EXPECTED a chauffeur-driven car to take him to the airport, and he was even more surprised when he saw who the chauffeur was.

“I just want to make sure you get on the plane,” said Colonel Marinkin.

“How very considerate of you, colonel,” said Harry, forgetting to remain in character.

“Don’t get clever with me, Mr. Clifton. The railway station is closer than the airport, and it’s not too late for you to join Babakov on a journey that won’t have a return ticket for another twelve years.”

“But I signed the confession,” said Harry, trying to sound conciliatory.

“Which I know you’ll be glad to hear has already been released to every leading newspaper in the West from the New York Times to the Guardian. It will have hit most of their front pages before you touch down at Heathrow, so even if you did try to deny it—”