William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

know.”
    Monk knew he was very conscious of his own need for privacy, and if Monk were to betray Melville or Lambert, then Sandeman would assume he would do the same to him. The situation required the most subtle handling. And yet if he were to be of any use to Rathbone he must discover Melville’s secret, and do it before Monday morning. He was rash to have accepted the case, but he could never resist a challenge from Oliver Rathbone, however it was placed before him, howeverdisguised. He thought wryly that probably Rathbone knew that when he had come.
    He smiled at Sandeman. “I daresay it will be in the evening newspapers, if it was not in the morning ones,” he acknowledged. “Unfortunately, those things cannot be kept private, as I believe they should be.”
    Sandeman raised his eyebrows. “Oh? I am sorry to hear that. Poor fellow. Surprised, mind you. Never heard the slightest whisper against him, myself.” His eyes narrowed and he regarded Monk deceptively closely. His mild manner hid a more astute mind than many had supposed, to their cost. Still he refused to ask the nature of the charge.
    “Not the slightest?” Monk pressed, knowing he must tread extremely carefully.
    “Nothing but praise,” Sandeman affirmed. “Not everyone likes his work, of course. But then if they did it would mean he was mediocre, safe, and pedestrian. And he is certainly not that. Everyone’s friend is no one’s, you know?” He regarded Monk quizzically, although he knew he agreed. “Can’t bear a man who trims his sails to meet the prevailing wind all the time and never stands for anything himself. Melville is not one of those.” He frowned, wrinkling his brows together. “But that is hardly a thing one would sue a man for, or have him charged in law. You did not say whether it was a civil suit or a criminal one.”
    “Civil.”
    “Not a building less than standard.” Sandeman made it a statement. “I don’t believe that. He knows his job superbly. I would be prepared to say he is the best architect of his generation, perhaps of the century.” He stared at Monk as if prepared to defy a challenge.
    “Where did he study?” Monk enquired.
    Sandeman thought for a moment. “You know, I have no idea,” he said with evident surprise. “I haven’t heard anyone mention it. Is it of importance?”
    “Probably not,” Monk answered. “It is unlikely the difficultystems so far back. I assume that you have never heard suggestion that he is financially untrustworthy or—”
    Sandeman did not allow him to finish. “He is an architect, Monk. A man of vision, even genius. He is not a banker or a trader. He sells ideas. I think rather than beating around the circumference of this, you had better tell me, in confidence, the nature of this difficulty. If it is the subject of a court case, then it will soon enough become public.”
    Monk was more than ready. “He is being sued for breach of promise.”
    Sandeman sat perfectly still. He did not speak, but disbelief was in every line of him.
    “I am in the employ of the barrister seeking to defend him,” Monk answered to the question in Sandeman’s face.
    Sandeman let out his breath slowly. “I see.” But there was doubt in his voice. He looked at Monk now with a certain carefulness. Something was unexplained. The debt between them was not sufficient to override his other loyalties, and there was a perceptible coolness in the room. “I doubt I can help you,” he continued. “As far as I know Melville, he is a man of complete probity, both publicly and privately. I have never heard anything whatever to his discredit.” He met Monk’s gaze steadily. “And I can tell you that without any discomfort of mind, knowing that I owe you a great deal for your assistance to me when I depended upon you.”
    Monk smiled with a harsh twist of his lips. “The case may become ugly. I expect the family of the girl to suggest serious flaws in his character in order to explain his behavior in terms other than some fault in their daughter. If Melville is vulnerable in any way he has not told us, or even is not aware of, we need to know it in advance in order to defend him.”
    Sandeman’s face eased, and his large body relaxed in his chair, crumpling his suit still further. “Oh, I see.” He did not apologize for his suspicion, it was too subtle to have been voiced, but it was there in his eyes, the suddenly warmer smile.
    “Who is the lady?”
    Monk did not hesitate; there