A man stood next to me, checking his watch. Godfrey Higgs, Freddie’s barrister.

“Why, Mr. Higgs! There you are. The man of the hour.”

He looked up. “Mrs. Thorpe. You give me too much credit. The prosecution laid a contemptible case. Any competent barrister should have won acquittal.”

“Any barrister should, maybe. But they weren’t exactly scrambling to take on the defense, were they? Just you.”

“I did my duty, that’s all, Mrs. Thorpe.”

“Well, at least you were wise enough to leave certain questions unasked. I wonder if we’ll ever see justice?”

He shook his head, and I saw how weary he was, not that I blamed him. The poor fellow probably hadn’t experienced a good night’s sleep since July.

“Mr. Higgs,” I said. “I thought I saw the foreman speaking, after the verdict. Only I couldn’t hear him in all the racket. Was it something important?”

Mr. Higgs turned his head to watch Freddie’s car as it drove slowly through Rawson Square, parting the crowd, honking its joyous horn. “It was,” he said. “I’m afraid there was an addendum to the verdict.”

“An addendum? What do you mean?”

“Mr. Sands went on to say that the jury recommended—in spite of the verdict—that Mr. de Marigny and his cousin, Georges de Visledou, be deported from the Bahamas immediately as undesirables.”

“Deported? Undesirables? Why?”

“A very good question, Mrs. Thorpe. I shall seek answers as soon as possible, although I don’t imagine it will make any difference.”

Across the square, Freddie’s car had disappeared around a corner, and the jubilant glow of the headlamps arced across a building to dissolve into blackness. “Why not?” I whispered.

“Because I suspect that certain elements of the government will move heaven and earth to see that the deportation is carried out forthwith.”

I turned to gaze at him. He had removed the wig, of course, and while I privately thought these wigs an absurdity, Mr. Higgs did seem to have shed a certain air of importance along with his gray curls.

He went on. “I haven’t told him yet. I thought he should have a few hours to celebrate.”

“Mr. Higgs,” I said softly, “could you perhaps offer me a lift home?”

When Mr. Higgs dropped me off at the door of my bungalow, he wished me a sober good evening and conveyed his warmest regards to my husband.

“Yes, of course,” I replied. “And he returns his to you. Naturally, he’s followed news of the trial with the utmost interest.”