Page 108 of The Sins of the Wolf (William Monk 5)

“Get to it now, sir,” the judge commanded. “Before I also lose my patience. I am inclined to agree that Major Farraline is not in sufficient command of himself to offer anything of use.”

Argyll gritted his teeth.

Rathbone was leaning forward again, his hands clenched.

“Major Farraline,” Argyll resumed. “Did you meet with Miss Latterly alone, in the hallway, on that day, and have some conversation with her about the Farraline family business and its wealth?”

“What?”

“Oh really!” Gilfeather exploded.

“Yes,” Hector said with a moment of clarity. “Yes. On the stairs, as I recall. Spoke to her for several moments. Nice girl. Liked her. Pity.”

“Did you tell her that there had been money embezzled from the company books?”

Hector stared at him as if he had been bitten.

“No—no, of course not.” Then his eyes wandered away from Argyll and across to the gallery. He found Oonagh, and looked at her imploringly. She was pale-faced, her eyes wide.

“Major Farraline,” Argyll said firmly.

“My lord, this is inexcusable,” Gilfeather protested.

Argyll ignored him.

“Major Farraline, you are an officer of one of Her Majesty’s most renowned and battle-honored regiments. Remember yourself, sir! You are under oath! Did you not tell Miss Latterly that someone had been embezzling from the Farraline printing company?”

“This is monstrous,” Gilfeather cried, waving his arms furiously. “And completely irrelevant. Miss Latterly is on trial for the murder of Mary Farraline. This can have nothing to do with the case at issue.”

Alastair made as if to rise to his feet, then subsided again, his expression anguished.

“No I didn’t,” Hector said with another sudden rush of clarity. “I can remember it now. That was Mr. Monk I told. He went off to find McIvor about it, but he didn’t learn anything. Poor fool. I could have told him that. That’s all covered up now.”

There was a moment’s utter silence.

Rathbone sank onto the table in devastated relief.

Argyll’s dark face split into a grin.

The judge looked furious.

Monk punched his clenched fist into his open palm again and again till the flesh was bruised.

“Thank you, Major Farraline,” Argyll said quietly. “I am sure that you are right. It must have been Mr. Monk, and not Miss Latterly. That is my error, and I apologize.”

“Is that all?” Hector said curiously.

“Yes, thank you.”

Gilfeather swung around in a complete circle, staring at the gallery, the jurors, then at Hector.

Hector gave a discreet hiccup.

“Major Farraline, how many glasses of whiskey have you drunk this morning?” Gilfeather asked.

“I have no idea,” Hector said politely. “I don’t think I used a glass. Have one of those flasks, you know. Why?”

“No matter, sir. That is all, thank you.”