City of Spades - By Colin MacInnes Page 0,85

window had no curtains, I suppose. Is that what you have to tell us?’

‘Yes, sir, it had. But they weren’t always drawn over it.’

‘Not always drawn across the window in the depths of winter?’

‘Not always, sir.’

Mr Vial paused for quite ten seconds. ‘Officer,’ he said, ‘if you, or I, or anyone else in his right mind were going to hand a large sum of money over to somebody else, even for a perfectly legitimate reason, would we really do it in front of an open, uncurtained window on the ground floor of a house in a busy street of a not particularly salubrious neighbourhood?’

‘That’s what they did, sir.’

‘And if the transaction was a highly illegal one, as it would be in the present instance, wouldn’t there be all the more reason to hand the money over behind closed doors and out of sight?’

‘These people are very careless, sir. They’re often under the influence of alcohol, and other things.’

‘They’d need to be! They’d certainly need to be, to behave so rashly!’ Mr Vial gazed in amazement at the judge, at the jury, at Mr Gillespie, and back again at the Detective-Inspector. ‘Now, Inspector,’ he said gently. ‘Please understand I’m not questioning your good faith in any respect. You’re an experienced officer, as my learned friend has said, and there can therefore be no question of that at all … But don’t you think, from what you tell us, it’s possible you were mistaken?’

‘No, sir. She gave him the money like I said.’

‘On half a dozen occasions, a prostitute takes money out of her handbag, or raincoat, or whatever it was, and hands it over to a man in a lighted room without the curtain drawn across in full view of the general public, and does it all so slowly that anyone standing outside could count the exact number of pound notes? Is that what you’re telling us?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Thank you, Inspector.’ Mr Vial sat down.

The Detective-Constable was called. Examined by Mr Gillespie, he confirmed his colleague’s account in all essential particulars. Mr Wesley Vial rose again.

‘How long have you been with the CID, Detective-Constable?’

‘Two months, sir.’

‘This is your first case as a CID officer?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Before you joined the CID, did your duties bring you in contact with this sort of case at all?’

‘No, sir. I was in Records.’

‘You were in Records. Now, Constable. Since this case was first brought in the magistrates’ court, you have discussed it, naturally, with the Inspector?’

‘I’ve talked about the case in general, sir. I haven’t discussed the details of the evidence.’

‘Of course not. The evidence you gave is entirely your own, isn’t it? But you’ve relied on the guidance of your superior officers to a certain extent as to how you should put it to the court?’

The judge made a slight noise. ‘I don’t think you should ask the witness that, Mr Vial,’ he said. ‘You needn’t answer, Constable.’

‘As you say, my Lord. I have no further questions.’

The Detective-Constable left the box and went and sat by the Inspector, who gave him a slight, official smile. ‘Call the defendant,’ said the usher.

Johnny Fortune left the dock, walked firmly through the court and took the oath. The assembly regarded him with a slightly increased respect; for whatever the outcome of the case, a person in the witness-box seems a very different person from one sitting between two policemen in the dock.

Mr Vial faced his client with a look stern as Gabriel’s, and said: ‘John Macdonald Fortune: do you know what living off the immoral earnings of a woman means?’

‘Yes. I do know.’

‘Have you lived off the immoral earnings of this woman?’

‘No. Never.’

‘Have you ever lived off the immoral earnings of any woman?’

‘Never! Never would I give my blood to such a person. Never!’

Mr Vial sat down. Mr Gillespie arose.

‘You say you’re a student,’ he began. ‘A student of what?’

‘Of meteorology.’

The judge leant forward. ‘What was that word?’

‘Meteorology, my Lord. I’m not quite sure what it is, but no doubt we’ll discover. And how long is it since you attended your last lecture?’

‘Is some months now.’

‘Why? Is your college on holiday?’

‘No. I give up these studies.’

‘So now you’re not studying anything?’

‘No.’

‘You’ve not been a student for some months, in fact?’

‘No.’

‘And what have you lived on?’

‘I work in a labouring job.’

‘How long did you work in this labouring job?’

‘Some few week before I get arrested.’

‘Some few weeks. And at the time you were living with this woman, were you working?’

‘Listen to me, sir. I live some few week when I