William Monk 16 - Execution Dock

at first ‘e might be a kidsman.”
    “A kidsman?” Rathbone inquired, although of course he knew the word. He asked for the benefit of the jury.
    Trenton understood. “A man who gets kids to do ‘is stealing for ‘im,” he replied simply. “Mostly it's silk handkerchiefs, bits o’ money, things like that. A good leather purse, maybe. But ‘e weren't, of course.” He shrugged again. “Just River Police with more interest in kids than anyone else.”
    “I see. Did he ask you about Jericho Phillips?”
    Trenton rolled his eyes. “Over and over, till I was sick of telling ‘im that as far as I know ‘e's just a petty thief, a chancer. Maybe does a bit of smuggling, although we've never caught ‘im at it. Per'aps a bit of informing, but that's all.”
    “Did Mr. Durban accept that answer?”
    Trenton's face darkened. “No, ‘e didn't. Obsession ‘e ‘ad, and got worse towards the time ‘e died. Which was a shame,” he added quickly.
    “Thank you.” Rathbone released him.
    Tremayne looked indecisive from the moment he stood up. His face and his voice reflected exactly the fears that were beginning to touch Hester. Could they have been mistaken about Durban? Had he been a man who committed one marvelous act of nobility in an effort to redeem a life otherwise deeply flawed? Had they come in at the end, and thought all the rest was the same, when in fact it was not at all?
    Tremayne was floundering, and he was acutely aware of it. It had been a decade since he had last been so subtly set off balance. Therewas nothing in Trenton's evidence to contest, nothing he could grasp firmly enough to turn or twist to any other meaning.
    Hester wondered if he was beginning to have doubts as well. Did he wonder if Monk had been naive, driven by loyalty to a man he had known only a short time, a matter of weeks, and whose real character he had only guessed at?
    For the first time Hester actually entertained the thought, for an instant, that Rathbone could be right. Yes, Phillips was an evil man, one who preyed on the weaknesses and appetites of others, but he might not be guilty of torture or murder as Durban had believed, or as Monk had accepted from him. She pushed the thought away, refusing to entertain it. It was ugly, and it was disloyal.
    Rathbone resumed the presentation of the defense. He called a lighterman who had known Durban well and admired him. He asked questions gently, drawing out pieces of information as if he were aware that the process would sooner or later become painful. He was right. At the start it was easy: merely a pattern of dates and questions asked and answered. Durban had asked the lighterman about comings and goings on the water, mostly of Jericho Phillips and his boat, occasionally of other men who patronized whatever its facilities were. They professed that it offered ale and entertainment, a simple matter of an evening on the river with refreshment and a little music, performed to the taste of whatever audience presented itself.
    Lord Justice Sullivan leaned forward, listening intently, his face grave.
    Did the lighterman, Hurst, know for certain what that entertainment was? Rathbone continued. No, he had no personal knowledge at all. Durban had asked him that, many times. The answer was always the same. He did not know, or wish to. As far as he was aware, the boys could have been there to serve ale, wait on tables, clear up, anything at all.
    It seemed very routine, even tedious, until Hester saw something alter in Rathbone's stance, and a new, suppressed energy enter him. Was Durban's interest in Phillips consistent from the time it began?
    Hurst looked puzzled, as if he remembered something odd. No, it wasn't. For several months Durban had shown no interest at all, as ifhe had forgotten about him. Then equally without explanation, his interest had resumed again, even more fiercely than before. His pursuit had become almost savage, exceeding his duty. He had been seen on the river in all weather, even in the small hours of the night when all sane men were in their beds.
    Could Hurst explain any of this? In fact, had Durban offered any reason for his extraordinary obsession and the erratic manner of his occupation with it?
    No. Hurst was disillusioned. He had no idea.
    Tremayne must have known that in questioning him further he would gain nothing, and might even lose. He declined.
    To end the day Rathbone added another member of the River Police who had been serving at the