He gulped. "Of course there was no debt. Joscelin never even served in the same area as Edward-I found that out afterwards. It was all another of his lies-to get money." He looked at Hester. "It was not as bad as your loss. At least Dawlish didn't kill himself. I am truly sorry about your family."
"He didn't lose any money." Monk spoke at last. "He didn't have time. You killed Joscelin before he could take it. But he had asked."
There was utter silence. Callandra put both her hands to her face. Lovel was stunned, unable to comprehend. Fabia was a broken woman. She no longer cared. What happened to Menard was immaterial. Joscelin, her beloved Joscelin, had been murdered in front of her in a new and infinitely more dreadful way. They had robbed her not only of the present and the future, but all the warm, sweet, precious past. It had all gone; there was nothing left but a handful of bitter ash.
They all waited, each in a separate world in the moments between hope and the finality of despair. Only Fabia had already been dealt the ultimate blow.
Monk found the nails of his hands cutting his palms, so tightly were his fists clenched. It could all still slip away from him. Menard could deny it, and there would be no proof sufficient. Runcorn would have only the bare facts, and come after Monk, and what was there to protect him?
The silence was like a slow pain, growing with each second.
Menard looked at his mother and she saw the movement of his head, and turned her face away, slowly and deliberately.
"Yes," Menard said at last. "Yes I did. He was despicable. It wasn't only what he had done to Edward Dawlish, or me, but what he was going to go on doing. He had to be stopped-before it became public, and the name of Grey was a byword for a man who cheats the families of his dead comrades-in-arms, a more subtle and painful version of those who crawl over the battlefield the morning after and rob the corpses of the fallen."
Callandra walked over to him and put her hand on his arm.
"We will get the best legal defense available," she said very quietly. "You had a great deal of provocation. I think they will not find murder."
"We will not." Fabia's voice was a mere crackle, almost a sob, and she looked at Menard with terrible hatred.
"I will," Callandra corrected. "I have quite sufficient means." She turned back to Menard again. "I will not leave you alone, my dear. I imagine you will have to go with Mr. Monk now-but I will do all that is necessary, I promise you."
Menard held her hand for a moment; something crossed his lips that was almost a smile. Then he turned to Monk.
"I am ready."
Evan was standing by the door with the manacles in his pocket. Monk shook his head, and Menard walked out slowly between them. The last thing Monk heard was Hester's voice as she stood next to Callandra.
"I will testify for him. When the jury hears what Joscelin did to my family, they may understand-"
Monk caught Evan's eye and felt a lift of hope. If Hester Latterly fought for Menard, the battle could not easily be lost. His hand held Menard's arm-but gently.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AmongAnne Perry ’s other novels featuring investigator William Monk areFuneral in Blue,Slaves of Obsession,The Twisted Root, andA Breach of Promise. She also writes the popular novels featuring Thomas and Charlotte Pitt, includingThe Whitechapel Conspiracy,Half Moon Street,Bedford Square, andBrunswick Gardens. Her short story “Heroes” won an Edgar Award. Anne Perry lives in Scotland. Visit her Web site atwww.anneperry.net.
