Page 112 of The Sins of the Wolf (William Monk 5)

Gilfeather made as if to rise, and then changed his mind.

“Is this relevant, Mr. Argyll?” the judge said with a sigh. “If you are about to raise the matter of the company accounts, I must warn you that unless you provide real evidence that there has indeed been embezzlement, I shall not allow you to proceed.”

Argyll hesitated.

“The missing books Eilish took,” Rathbone whispered furiously behind him.

“No, my lord,” Argyll said blandly, looking at the judge with an innocent smile. “That is not the area I wish to pursue at the moment.”

The judge sighed again. “Then I don’t know what you do want. I thought that was what you called this witness for.”

“Yes my lord, but after I have laid suitable groundwork.”

“Then proceed, Mr. Argyll, proceed,” the judge said irritably.

“Thank you, my lord. Mr. Fyffe, in what capacity do you serve the Farraline company?”

“I am in control of the printing, and make all printing decisions,” Quinlan replied.

“I see. Are you aware, sir, that several of your books have been stolen over the last year or more?”

There was a sharp stir of interest in the court. Quinlan looked incredulous.

“No sir, I was not aware of it. And to tell you the truth, I am disinclined to believe it now. Such a loss would have been apparent.”

“To whom, sir?” Argyll asked. “To you?”

“No, not to me, but certainly …” He hesitated only a second or so, but a look of brilliance came into his eyes, a flash of thought. “To Baird McIvor. He manages that area of the company.”

“Precisely so,” Argyll agreed. “And he did not report such a loss to you?”

“No sir, he did not!”

Again Gilfeather half rose, but the judge waved him back.

“Would you be interested to know,” Argyll said carefully, “that it was your wife who took them, sir, with Mr. McIvor’s assistance?”

There was a gasp from the gallery. Several jurors turned towards Eilish, then towards Baird.

Quinlan stood motionless, the blood rushing scarlet up his face, then receding again, leaving him ashen. He started to say something, but his voice died away.

“You did not know this,” Argyll said unnecessarily. “It would seem at a glance to make no sense, but she had a most excellent reason….”

There was a sigh of breat

h around the entire room., then utter silence.

Quinlan stared at Argyll.

Argyll smiled, just a slow lift of the corners of his mouth, his eyes brilliant.

“She teaches people to read,” he said distinctly. “Grown men who labor by day and come to learn from her by night how to read and write their names, to read street signs, warnings, instructions, who knows, perhaps in time even literature and the Holy Bible.”

There was a sharp rustle of movement in the gallery. Eilish sat white-faced, her eyes wide.

The judge leaned forward, frowning.

“I assume you must have some proof of this extraordinary allegation, Mr. Argyll?”