Justice Sackville took lunch along with a dozen other judges, who didn't remove their wigs or discuss each other's cases as they munched through a meal of meat and two veg.
Mr. Pearson ate lunch on his own in the Bar Mess on the top floor. He considered that his learned friend had made a bad mistake when questioning Craig about the timing, but it wasn't his duty to point that out. He pushed a pea from one side of the plate to the other while he considered the ramifications.
Once two o'clock struck, the ritual began again. Mr. Justice Sackville entered the courtroom and gave the jury the flicker of a smile before taking his place. He looked down at both counsel and said, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. Mr. Pearson, you may call your next witness."
"Thank you, m'lord," said Pearson as he rose from his seat. "I call Mr. Gerald Payne."
Danny watched a man enter the courtroom whom he didn't immediately recognize. He must have been around five feet nine inches tall, prematurely balding, and his well-cut beige suit was unable to disguise the fact that he'd lost a stone since Danny had last seen him. The usher guided him toward the witness box, handed him a copy of the Bible and held up the oath. Although Payne read from the card, he displayed the same self-confidence as Spencer Craig had shown that morning.
"You are Gerald David Payne, and you reside at sixty-two Wellington Mews, London W2?"
"That is correct," replied Payne in a firm voice.
"And what is your profession?"
"I am a land management consultant."
Redmayne wrote down the words estate agent next to Payne's name.
"And which firm do you work for?" inquired Pearson.
"I am a partner with Baker, Tremlett and Smythe."
"You are very young to be a partner of such a distinguished firm," suggested Pearson innocently.
"I am the youngest partner in the firm's history," replied Payne, delivering a well-rehearsed line.
It was obvious to Redmayne that someone had been tutoring Payne long before he entered the witness box. He knew that for ethical reasons it couldn't have been Pearson, so there was only one other possible candidate.
"My congratulations," said Pearson.
"Get on with it, Mr. Pearson," said the judge.
"I do apologize, m'lord. I was simply trying to establish the credibility of this witness for the jury."
"Then you have succeeded," said Mr. Justice Sackville sharply. "Now get on with it."
Pearson patiently took Payne through the events of the night in question. Yes, he confirmed, Craig, Mortimer and Davenport had all been present at the Dunlop Arms that evening. No, he had not ventured out into the alley when he heard the scream. Yes, they had gone home when advised to do so by Spencer Craig. No, he had never seen the defendant before in his life.
"Thank you, Mr. Payne," concluded Pearson. "Please remain there."
Redmayne rose slowly from his place, and took his time rearranging some papers before he asked his first question-a trick his father had taught him when they had conducted mock trials. "If you're going to open with a surprise question, my boy," his father used to say, "keep the witness guessing." He waited until the judge, the jury and Pearson were all staring at him. Only a few seconds, but he knew it would seem a lifetime to anyone standing in the box.
"Mr. Payne," said Redmayne finally, looking up at the witness, "when you were an undergraduate at Cambridge, were you a member of a society known as the Musketeers?"
"Yes," replied Payne, looking puzzled.
"And was that society's motto: 'All for one and one for all'?"
Pearson was up on his feet even before Payne had a chance to reply. "My lord, I am puzzled to know how the past membership of a university society can have any bearing on the events of September eighteenth last year."
"I am inclined to agree with you, Mr. Pearson," replied the judge, "but no doubt Mr. Redmayne is about to enlighten us."
"I am indeed, m'lord," Redmayne replied, his eyes never leaving Payne. "Was the Musketeers' motto: 'All for one and one for all'?" Redmayne repeated.
"Yes, it was," replied Payne with a slight edge to his voice.
"What else did the members of that society have in common?" asked Redmayne.
"An appreciation of Dumas, justice and a bottle of fine wine."
"Or perhaps several bottles of fine wine?" suggested Redmayne as he extracted a small, light blue booklet from the pile of papers in front of him. He began to turn its pages slowly. "And was one of the society's rules that if