one of the most eminent advocates in London, Pike had nevertheless to call on reserves of fortitude to meet this regard without demeaning himself by lowering his eyes. The passionate suddenness of his client’s moods still sometimes took him by surprise, combined as it was with a certain rigidness of bearing, slight but noticeable, unusual in so young a man. No doubt due to pride and self-consequence, the lawyer had thought—Kemp was known to be extremely rich; but there was a guardedness in it, as if he were afraid of jarring some old hurt.
“That is a question for the prison authorities, sir, not for me,” he said in a tone he took care to make neutral.
Kemp checked the angry response that rose to his lips at this impertinence—for he took it as such. Calculation was as prompt with him as rage; Pike was a highly successful lawyer, prosperous enough to allow himself the liberty to take offense and abandon the case if he so chose. A mistake to antagonize him … His very presence there, in his client’s place of business instead of his own, constituted no small concession.
“How did it happen?”
“It seems that one of the debtors was playing host in his room in the prison, one of the upper rooms of course, those on the fourth floor, well removed from all the misery below. Friends of his and women of the streets, you understand. They ordered up cakes and wine in good quantity.” Pike paused to allow himself a discreet smile. “They cannot pay their debts, but they can always contract new ones, even in prison. Some musicians were ordered for the dancing. Four, I believe. The fiddler was drunk on arrival, though no one seems to have noticed it. He was handed a bumper and it was one too many for him, he could not keep on his feet. There is no dancing without a fiddle, and this Sullivan, who apparently is noted as a fiddler, was released from his chains and brought up to take the man’s place. The jollities went on till well past midnight. In the meantime the jailors were changed and no one thought to pass on the word about Sullivan. So when the musicians finally left, he left with them.”
“Why was he not immediately pursued?”
“This was in the early hours of the morning. By the time it was discovered the man would have been well clear of the prison, and there was no way of knowing which road he had taken. Sir, there are not officers enough in London to conduct a search of that kind.”
A short laugh broke from Kemp, though his face showed no change. “I cross the Atlantic to bring these men to justice. I spend weeks in Florida, enrolling the force of troops I shall need. I spend further weeks discovering the whereabouts of the miscreants and tracking them down. All this at great expense and to the neglect of my business. And now this wretch strolls out of prison, and no one thinks any more of it till next day, several hours later.”
“That seems to be the case, yes.”
“I shall lodge a complaint. I shall see that those responsible are dismissed. You will understand my displeasure, sir. I have related the circumstances in which my father’s ship was lost.”
The lawyer nodded. Even without this relation he would have known a great deal of the case. The impending trial was complicated; in fact, there would be two hearings, one civil, the second criminal. It had aroused considerable interest in legal circles, and the London newspapers had all contained accounts of it, embellished by a good deal of gossip. Kemp’s career had become public property in the course of the last two weeks, described in detail: the obscure beginnings in Liverpool, son of a bankrupt cotton merchant; the marrying into money in the person of Sir Hugo Jarrold’s daughter, an unhappy match by all accounts. Then the fortune made in sugar, the partnership in his father-in-law’s bank—he was head of the bank now, the old man never appeared in public, it was thought that his mind had gone. Kemp had returned from Florida to news of his wife’s death.
“I swore I would see them all hanged,” Kemp said. “The loss of ship and cargo ruined my father. And now one of them walks free, as if he had done no more than raid a chicken house.”
“Well, he could be hanged for that, as the times go,” Pike said. He