The Twisted Root

her where she stood high in the witness stand. "You have told very clearly what you saw. You must have had a view of Mrs. Gardiner with no one blocking your way."
    "Yes sir, I did."
    "You said she seemed about to faint, as if she had suffered a great shock, and then after she had recovered herself she turned and ran, even fled, from the garden towards the stables. Is that correct?"
    "Yes sir."
    The judge frowned.
    Rathbone hurried on before he should be cautioned to come to the point.
    "Did anyone speak to her, pass her anything?"
    "You mean a glass, sir? I didn’t see no one."
    "No, I meant rather more like a message, something to account for her shock and, from what you describe, even terror."
    "No sir, no one came that close to her. And I don’t think she had a glass."
    "You are not certain about the glass, but you are sure no one spoke to her or passed her anything?"
    "Yes, I am."
    "Have you any idea what caused her to run away?"
    Tobias rose.
    "No," the judge said to him bluntly. "Miss Pembroke is an observant girl. She may very well know what happened. It has been my experience that servants frequently know a good deal more than some of us would believe, or wish to believe." He turned to the witness stand. "Do you know what caused Mrs. Gardiner’s flight, Miss Pembroke? If you do, this is the appropriate time and place to say so, whether it was a confidence or not."
    "No sir, I don’t know, an’ that’s the truth. But I never seen anyone look as dreadful as she did that day. She looked like she’d seen the living dead, she did."
    "Do you know where Treadwell was during the party?" Rathbone asked.
    "In the stables, sir, same as always."
    "So Mrs. Gardiner went to him—he did not come to her?"
    "Must be."
    "Thank you. That is all I have to ask you."
    "But not all I have!" Tobias cut in quickly, striding forward from his table. "You were on the lawn mixing with the guests in your capacity as parlormaid, were you not?"
    "Yes sir. I were carrying a tray of lemonade. Parkin had the champagne."
    "Is it easy to carry a tray loaded with glasses?"
    "It’s all right, when you’re used to it. Gets heavy."
    "And you offered them to those guests whose glasses were empty?"
    "Yes sir."
    "So you were not watching Mrs. Gardiner all the time?"
    "No sir."
    "Naturally. Could she have received some message, either in words or on paper, that you were unaware of?"
    "I suppose she could."
    "Is it possible, Miss Pembroke, that this was the best time for her to catch Treadwell alone, and with no duties or responsibilities which would prevent him from driving her from Cleveland Square? Is it possible, Miss Pembroke, that she knew the working of the household sufficiently well that she was aware she would find Treadwell in the mews, with the carriage available, and had planned in advance to meet him there and drive to a lonely place where she imagined they could do as they pleased together, unobserved, and where she intended—with the help of her foster mother—to get rid, once and for all, of the man who was blackmailing them both?"
    Rathbone shot to his feet, but the protest died on his lips.
    Tobias shrugged. "I only ask if it’s possible," he said reasonably. "Miss Pembroke is an observant young woman. She may know."
    "I don’t!" she protested. "I don’t know what happened, I swear!"
    "Your loquacity seems to have ended in confusion," the judge said acidly to Tobias. He turned to the jury. "You will note that the question has gone unanswered, and draw your own conclusions. Sir Oliver, have you anything to add?"
    Oliver had not.
    Tobias was unstoppable. His rich voice seemed to fill the court, and there was hardly an eye which was not upon him. He called the lady’s maid who had seen Miriam in Verona Stourbridge’s room, and drew from her a highly damaging account of Miriam’s trying on the jewelry and apparently having read the diary.
    "Do you know what is in the diary?" Tobias asked.
    The girl’s eyes widened in horror. "No sir, I do not." Her tone carried bitter resentment that he should suggest such a thing.
    "Of course not," he agreed smoothly. "One does not read another person’s private writings. I wondered perhaps if Mrs. Stourbridge had confided in you. Ladies can become extremely close to their maids."
    She was considerably mollified. "Well ... well, I know she put in her feelings about things. She used to go back and read again some from years ago, when she was in Egypt. She did that just the day before