Execution Dock Page 0,30

a slight shrug. He was a small, squarely built man with a heavy nose and mild manner, but under the respect for authority there was considerable strength, and more than fifty years of ever-hardening opinion. "Talked to 'em, gave 'em advice, sometimes even shared 'is food, or gave 'em the odd sixpence or the like."

"Was he looking for information?" Rathbone asked.

"If 'e was, 'e was a fool," Trenton answered. "You get a reputation for being a soft touch like that, an' you'll 'ave a line o' folks from Tower Bridge to the Isle o' Dogs, all ready to tell you anything you want to 'ear, for a penny or two."

"I see. Then what could he have been doing? Do you know?"

Trenton was well prepared. Tremayne leaned forward, ready to object to speculation, but he did not have the opportunity.

"Don't know what 'e was doing," he said, pushing his lower lip out in an expression of puzzlement. "Never seen another River Police, nor land neither, who spent time with beggars and drifters like 'e did, not with boys, like. They don't know much an' won't tell you anything that matters even if they do."

"How do you know that, Mr. Trenton?"

"I run a dock, Sir Oliver. I 'ave to know what people are doing on my patch, 'specially if there's a chance it's something as they shouldn't. I kept an eye on 'im, over the years. There aren't that many bent River Police, but it's not impossible. Not that I'm saying 'e was, mind you!" he added hastily. "But I watched. Thought at first 'e might be a kidsman."

"A kidsman?" Rathbone inquired, although of course he knew the word. He asked for the benefit of the jury.

Trenton understood. "A man who gets kids to do 'is stealing for 'im," he replied simply. "Mostly it's silk handkerchiefs, bits o' money, things like that. A good leather purse, maybe. But 'e weren't, of course." He shrugged again. "Just River Police with more interest in kids than anyone else."

"I see. Did he ask you about Jericho Phillips?"

Trenton rolled his eyes. "Over and over, till I was sick of telling 'im that as far as I know 'e's just a petty thief, a chancer. Maybe does a bit of smuggling, although we've never caught 'im at it. Per'aps a bit of informing, but that's all."

"Did Mr. Durban accept that answer?"

Trenton 's face darkened. "No, 'e didn't. Obsession 'e 'ad, and got worse towards the time 'e died. Which was a shame," he added quickly.

"Thank you." Rathbone released him.

Tremayne looked indecisive from the moment he stood up. His face and his voice reflected exactly the fears that were beginning to touch Hester. Could they have been mistaken about Durban? Had he been a man who committed one marvelous act of nobility in an effort to redeem a life otherwise deeply flawed? Had they come in at the end, and thought all the rest was the same, when in fact it was not at all?

Tremayne was floundering, and he was acutely aware of it. It had been a decade since he had last been so subtly set off balance. There was nothing in Trenton 's evidence to contest, nothing he could grasp firmly enough to turn or twist to any other meaning.

Hester wondered if he was beginning to have doubts as well. Did he wonder if Monk had been naive, driven by loyalty to a man he had known only a short time, a matter of weeks, and whose real character he had only guessed at?

For the first time Hester actually entertained the thought, for an instant, that Rathbone could be right. Yes, Phillips was an evil man, one who preyed on the weaknesses and appetites of others, but he might not be guilty of torture or murder as Durban had believed, or as Monk had accepted from him. She pushed the thought away, refusing to entertain it. It was ugly, and it was disloyal.

Rathbone resumed the presentation of the defense. He called a lighterman who had known Durban well and admired him. He asked questions gently, drawing out pieces of information as if he were aware that the process would sooner or later become painful. He was right. At the start it was easy: merely a pattern of dates and questions asked and answered. Durban had asked the lighterman about comings and goings on the water, mostly of Jericho Phillips and his boat, occasionally of other men who patronized whatever its facilities were. They professed that it