William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea

Rathbone stated, hoping to heaven he was correct. Hester was supposed to be bringing him, with Monk’s help, if that should prove necessary.
    Coniston looked around him as if searching for the missing doctor. He gave a very slight shrug. “Indeed?”
    Rathbone was desperate. Neither Monk nor Hester had come into the courtroom to indicate that Doulting was safely here. If Rathbone called him and he failed to appear, Coniston would demand they begin their summing up and Pendock would not have any excuse to refuse him.
    “I still have further questions for Miss Nisbet,” Rathbone said, his mind racing to think how he could string this out any further. There really was little else Agatha Nisbet could say that would not be obvious even to the jury as playing for time.
    “My lord”—Coniston’s weariness was only slightly an exaggeration—“the court is being indulgent enough to the accused in allowing this doctor to testify at all. If the man cannot even appear, then—”
    Pendock took it out of his control. “The court will adjourn for an hour, to allow everyone to compose themselves, perhaps take a glass of water.” He rose stiffly, as if all his joints hurt, and walked from the room.
    As soon as he was gone Coniston came over to Rathbone. His face was very pale and for the first time Rathbone had ever seen it, his collar was a trifle askew.
    “Can we talk?” he asked urgently.
    “I’m not sure what there is to say,” Rathbone answered.
    Coniston moved his hand as if to take Rathbone by the arm, then changed his mind and let it fall again. “Please? This is very serious. I’m not sure if you understand the full implications.”
    “I’m not sure they’re going to make any difference,” Rathbone told him frankly.
    “Well, I could do with a drink anyway,” Coniston replied. “I feel like hell, and you look like it. What the devil have you done to Pendock? He looks like a corpse dug up!”
    “That’s none of your concern,” Rathbone replied with a brief smile to rob the words of their sting, although he meant them. “If he wants to tell you, that is up to him.”
    They were out in the hall now and Coniston stopped abruptly, staring at Rathbone. For the first time he realized that something really had changed, and he was no longer in control.
    Rathbone led the way now, going out of the courthouse and down the steps to the street. They went to the nearest decent public house and ordered brandy, in spite of the early hour.
    “You’re playing with fire,” Coniston said very quietly after he had taken the first sip of his drink and allowed its burning warmth to slide down his throat. “Do you know what sort of restrictions Lambourn was going to advocate, and who would be made into a criminal because of it?”
    “No!” Rathbone said quietly. “But I’m beginning to have a rather strong idea that you do.”
    Coniston looked grim. “You know better than to ask me that, Rathbone. I can’t reveal anything told me in confidence.”
    “That rather depends on by whom,” Rathbone pointed out. “And whether it conceals the truth of Lambourn’s death, and consequently protects whoever murdered and then eviscerated Zenia Lambourn.”
    “It doesn’t,” Coniston’s eyes widened. “You know me better than that.”
    “Are you sure?” Rathbone asked, meeting Coniston’s gaze and holding it. “What about the effective murder of Dinah Lambourn? And that is what it will be if we deliberately allow her to be hanged for a crime she did not commit. I think you can see as well as I can that there is a great deal more to this case than domestic jealousy between two women who have known about each other for the best part of fifteen years.”
    Coniston was silent for several moments, sipping his brandy again. His hand around the glass was white-knuckled.
    “Lambourn’s death was the catalyst,” he said finally. “Suddenly his money was at stake, Dinah’s whole life as she knew it, and that of her children.”
    “Rubbish,” Rathbone replied. “Her life as she knew it ended with his death because she loved him. He was murdered because of his proposal to add restrictions to the sales of opium because of what he discovered about the effects of taking it by needle. She is willing to risk being hanged in order to clear his name of suicide and professional incompetence, and perhaps even to see his work completed simply because he believed in it. Even though she didn’t, and still doesn’t, know what