no appointment with you."
"Oh, dear. I see we are to be honest to the point of... I am not sure. What are we being honest about? Or am I going to regret asking such a question?"
"I seem to remember you telling me, a long time ago, that a good lawyer-and you are extremely good-does not ask a question unless he already knows the answer," she replied.
He winced so slightly, she was not sure if she had seen it or imagined it. "You are not going to prompt me into assuming the answer, Hester," he replied. "You are very good yourself, but I have had rather more practice."
She gave a very slight shrug. "A great deal more. The people you deal with are captive in quite a different way from those that I do. And though they do not always realize it, I also have their interests at heart."
"That is easy to do," he rejoined. "Their interests do not conflict with each other."
"You are naive, Oliver. I have only so much money, so much medicine, so many beds. Of course they conflict with each other!"
He was caught off guard.
"I know that you were employed to defend Phillips," she said, leaning forward in her chair. "And that bound you to his interests, just as the prosecution was bound against them. Once you had accepted the case, unless he admitted his guilt, you had no choice but to defend him. Was that why you did not call him to the stand to deny that he killed Fig? You were certain in your own mind that he had?"
"No, I was not!" he said with sudden vehemence. "He did deny it. I simply did not think that the jury would believe him. He is not an attractive character, and if he had spoken that would very definitely have shown. The jury should weigh only the evidence, but they are people-passionate, vulnerable, full of pity and outrage for the crime, and intensely afraid both of doing the wrong thing and of one day being victims of crime themselves." He spoke so quickly he scarcely had time for breath. "They would have been led by dislike into believing him guilty. They could very easily have crossed the line from being convinced that he had committed other crimes, which I have no doubt he has, to believing that he had committed this one also. They do not have to give reasons for their verdict. I cannot argue with them and point out that their logic is flawed. Once they have spoken, I have to accept, unless there is a point of law on which I can argue. Illogic is not such a point."
"I know," she said drily. "Tremayne could have used emotion to sway them against Phillips, and you would have had no recourse because they would not have realized what he had done. They would have imagined that the feelings were entirely their own, not manipulated by counsel."
He smiled very slightly. "Exactly. I am pleased you see it with such a fair mind."
It was her turn to smile with the same chilly humor. "Of course I do, now," she replied. "Unfortunately, I didn't see it so plainly when you were manipulating me. Nor, I'm afraid, did Mr. Tremayne. You are better at it than either of us. But then I dare say you are right in that you are more practiced."
The color washed deep red up his face. "I had no choice, Hester. Should I have done less than my best for him, because you were the witness? If I had when defending someone you liked, you would have been the first to call me dishonorable. You can't have justice dealt one way for those you like and another for those you don't."
"Of course not," she agreed, her voice tighter than she had meant it to be. It gave her away, and she knew he would hear it. "I followed the case because I believed passionately that Phillips was an evil man who tortured and murdered a child who had the courage to stand up against him. I still believe it. But I know that I let my emotions rule me instead of my intelligence. I was not impartial in my judgment, and it let me down. You took advantage of my weakness because you knew me well enough to do so."
She ignored the flare of anger, and perhaps shame in his eyes. "I am not sure whether I know you well enough or not, Oliver. I