William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

duress when they saw it, and felt Hargrave’s reluctance and the sudden change in tension.
    Even the crowd was silent.
    A lesser man than Lovat-Smith would have interrupted again, but he knew it would only betray his own uncertainty.
    “Tell us, Dr. Hargrave,” Rathbone went on quietly, “howa man cleaning a knife could have it slip from his hand so as to stab himself upwards, from knee to groin?” He turned on the spot, very slowly. “In fact, perhaps you would oblige us by showing us exactly what motion you had in mind when you—er—believed this account of his? I presume you know why a military man of his experience, a general indeed, should be clumsy enough to clean a knife so incompetently? I would have expected better from the rank and file.” He frowned. “In fact, ordinary man as I am, I have no ornamental knives, but I do not clean my own silver, or my own boots.”
    “I have no idea why he cleaned it,” Hargrave replied, leaning forward over the rail of the witness box, his hands gripping the edge. “But since it was he who had the accident with it, I was quite ready to believe him. Perhaps it was because he did not normally clean it that he was clumsy.”
    He had made a mistake, and he knew it immediately. He should not have tried to justify it.
    “You cannot know it was he who had the accident, if indeed it was an accident,” Rathbone said with excessive politeness. “Surely what you mean is that it was he who had the wound?”
    “If you wish,” Hargrave replied tersely. “It seems a quibble to me.”
    “And the manner in which he was holding it to sustain such a wound as you describe so clearly for us?” Rathbone raised his hand as if gripping a knife, and bent his body experimentally into various contortions to slip and gash himself upwards. It was perfectly impossible, and the court began to titter with nervous laughter. Rathbone looked up enquiringly at Hargrave.
    “All right!” Hargrave snapped. “It cannot have happened as he said. What are you suggesting? That Alexandra tried to stab him? Surely you are supposed to be here defending her, not making doubly sure she is hanged!”
    The judge leaned forward, his face angry, his voice sharp.
    “Dr. Hargrave, your remarks are out of order, and grossly prejudicial. You will withdraw them immediately.”
    “Of course. I’m sorry. But I think it is Mr. Rathbone you should caution. He is incompetent in his defense of Mrs. Carlyon.”
    “I doubt it. I have known Mr. Rathbone for many years, but if he should prove to be so, then the accused may appeal on that ground.” He looked towards Rathbone. “Please continue.”
    “Thank you, my lord.” Rathbone bowed very slightly. “No, Dr. Hargrave, I was not suggesting that Mrs. Carlyon stabbed her husband, I was pointing out that he must have lied to you as to the cause of this wound, and that it seemed undeniable that someone stabbed him. I shall make my suggestions as to who, and why, at a later time.”
    There was another rustle of interest, and the first shadow of doubt across the faces of the jury. It was the only time they had been given any cause to question the case as Lovat-Smith had presented it. It was a very small shadow, no more than a flicker, but it was there.
    Hargrave turned to step down.
    “Just one more thing, Dr. Hargrave,” Rathbone said quickly. “What was General Carlyon wearing when you were called to tend this most unpleasant wound?”
    “I beg your pardon?” Hargrave looked incredulous.
    “What was General Carlyon wearing?” Rathbone repeated. “In what was he dressed?”
    “I have no idea. For God’s sake! What does it matter?”
    “Please answer my question,” Rathbone insisted. “Surely you noticed, when you had to cut it away to reach the wound?”
    Hargrave made as if to speak, then stopped, his face pale.
    “Yes?” Rathbone said very softly.
    “He wasn’t.” Hargrave seemed to regather himself. “It had already been removed. He had on simply his underwear.”
    “I see. No—no blood-soaked trousers?” Rathbone shrugged eloquently. “Someone had already at least partially treated him? Were these garments lying close to hand?”
    “No—I don’t think so. I didn’t notice.”
    Rathbone frowned, a look of suddenly renewed interest crossing his face.
    “Where did this—accident—take place, Dr. Hargrave?”
    Hargrave hesitated. “I—I’m not sure.”
    Lovat-Smith rose from his seat and the judge looked at him and shook his