Midnight at Marble Arch - By Anne Perry Page 0,110

they might continue their stroll under the trees.

VESPASIA NEEDED TO DRAW on more than one favor in order to obtain a seat at the High Court of Judicature for the second day of the trial of Leander Starr Jameson. It was June 21, the longest day of the year. She was also obliged to rise early and be at the court over an hour before the proceedings commenced, such was the interest in the issue, and the almost hectic support for Dr. Jameson himself.

She accompanied the Hon. Hector Manning, a longtime friend who had held a position of some weight in the Foreign Office, and thus was able to obtain a place in the gallery himself. No one had the temerity to question the fact that he brought a lady with him. There were many among the crowd who recognized her. She smiled and nodded to a few of them.

She had dressed in muted colors: silvers and grays, and a charcoal silk so dark as to seem almost black in the shadow, as befitted the occasion. A man was fighting not only for his freedom, but also for what was probably of more value to him: his honor.

After they had taken their seats, Hector, still a very distinguished-looking man, leaned toward her and spoke quietly. “Unless you’ve changed beyond recognition, you have some better reason for being here than mere curiosity. Were that all, you would never have forced yourself to ask a favor of me. As I recall our last meeting, some twenty years ago, you did not view me with particular pleasure.”

She did not wish to be reminded of it, but his question was fair and he deserved an answer.

“You are quite right,” she conceded, looking not at him but straight ahead of her at the rapidly filling seats. The slight buzz of conversation made their voices inconspicuous among the rest. On impulse she decided to be moderately frank. “A friend of mine is concerned about some of the financial repercussions of this whole affair. I wish to learn far more of it than I know at the moment …”

He swiveled in his seat to stare at her with concern, even anxiety. “I hope you do mean a friend, and not yourself? And even if it is merely a friend, please do not involve your own finances in any way at all; not yet.”

She saw the gentleness in his eyes and was a little abashed to recognize an affection she had once dismissed.

“I have no money whatever in Africa, nor shall I, I promise you,” she said with a slight smile. “But I appreciate your warning.”

“I have no right to tell you not to rescue anyone …” he began, then drew in his breath and let it out in a sigh, “but don’t, please.”

Should she tell him the truth? It was unpleasantly deceitful to cause him completely unnecessary anxiety, and yet the rape of Catherine Quixwood seemed to be so far from the escapades of Leander Jameson that she could hardly expect Hector Manning to believe her. She did not have any explanation to make sense of it.

“It is a matter of proving someone innocent of a terrible act,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “So far as I know, no one I am acquainted with needs financial assistance, I promise you.”

He relaxed fractionally. “This whole venture was an appalling mess, you know. Is this friend of yours involved in it?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said frankly. “I am not being deliberately evasive, Hector. I really don’t know. If I can understand the raid better, it may answer a few very delicate questions.”

“You’re not going to tell me any other details, are you?” he concluded.

She smiled at him. “Not unless I have to. It would be indiscreet.”

Before they could discuss it any further the court was called to order and the trial commenced.

Vespasia listened with total attention. She already had a certain amount of information with which to catch up. She had never personally met Dr. Jameson, and now studied him with interest while the totally predictable formalities were conducted.

He entered the courtroom and walked toward his chair, taking his seat with care to arrange his dark frock coat so as not to crease it.

Every single person in the room was watching him, a fact of which he could not have been unaware. There was a dull flush visible over his complexion, even darkened by sun as it was. If he recognized anyone, he gave no sign of