The high pitched whine of a buzzer announced that the jury was ready to return its verdict.

‘Christ, James, that was quick.’

‘Not guilty. Lot of nonsense. During the act of rape, the victim was actually on top.’

‘Go on, explain.’

‘She claimed she was terrified of my client, who just happened to be her boyfriend.’

‘But why was she on top?’

‘Because he had a bad back.’

‘Eh?’

‘Because he had a bad back. I do wish you would listen.’

‘Sounds like a good night in rather than a rape.’

‘Case should never have been prosecuted.’

‘Here’s hoping you say the same thing at the end of this one. Never can tell.’

‘We’ll see. I’ll have a look at the papers this weekend. See you Monday night at Barlinnie.’

‘Just one more thing,’ Morton continued, ‘I don’t think he did it.’

‘Jack, you always tell me that.’

‘This time I believe it. I don’t know why. Just a gut feeling, having spoken to the boy. He’s shit scared.’

‘He’s entitled to be, facing two murder charges.’

‘I know, I know, but there’s just something about him. Judge for yourself when you meet him.’

‘We’ll see.’

Muirhead headed towards court, and a verdict. As he proceeded he was struck by the way his colleague seemed to be so uptight about the case. Strange.

Despite being conscientious to the nth degree and meticulous to a fault in his preparation of cases, Morton always appeared to be completely laid back. Someone once suggested that he had been almost excited by an incident which happened in a case, but this was generally dismissed as mere scurrilous rumour. Everyone knew he cared about his clients and worried about their cases. He just did not show it. He preferred to devote his energies to preparation rather than perspiration.

Muirhead remained puzzled as he strode along the corridor. Suddenly and inexplicably he shivered. For no reason he could have explained, he had a bad feeling about the case he was to undertake. What it was – he did not know. Just that he had never experienced this before – and he did not like it one bit. He shivered again.

‘Behave yourself, you silly bugger,’ he mouthed to himself.

The driving rain which fell incessantly had already soaked the waiting crowd. There was no shelter to be had from wind or rain. Yet no one made any attempt to seek respite from the biting cold. Spring was late in coming this year. The crowd stood in an eerie silence broken only by the occasional shuffling of feet or a hacking cough, quickly stifled by a gloved hand. The faces were as grey as the weather which enveloped them. The casual observer would have instantly noted a total absence of emotion. The astute observer would have detected a concentrated effort to display no emotion. Men, women and children, yet not a flicker anywhere. Not a tear in any eye.