Page 17 of Triple Jeopardy (Daniel Pitt)

“Is he reliable, this brother-in-law of yours? And don’t play around with sophistry. I knew more about that than you do before you were even born!”

“Yes, sir, I don’t know. I’ve made a few inquiries about Sidney, and his reputation is excellent…”

“From whom? No! Don’t answer that! I don’t want to know your sources, especially if they are named Blackwell. So, you are sitting between a sharp rock of family loyalty and the very hard place indeed of the truth? You know your sister, but I’m guessing you don’t know this brother-in-law of yours all that well. And since he is American, you are not likely to. Have I got that right?” Marcus’s white eyebrows rose.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why are you doing this? To protect your sister?”

Daniel knew there was no benefit in anything but the truth. Less than that would come back to bite him, probably very hard. “To begin with, I wanted to help Patrick,” he answered. “And I was furious and ashamed that an Englishman had behaved like that abroad. I wanted to fix it.”

“You put it in the past tense. What now?”

“I wish to hell I didn’t know anything about it.”

The flicker of a smile crossed Marcus’s face. “That I believe to be the unvarnished truth, even if it is useless now. What do you propose to do about it?”

“Defend Sidney, if he’ll accept us.”

“By us, do you mean Kitteridge, with your assistance?”

“Yes, sir.”

“To do what? What possible use is such a dubious case to fford Croft and Gibson? Sidney may be innocent of the embezzlement, and it’s that case that is being brought to trial.”

“To discover the truth. Either that he did do what Thorwood accuses him of, or that he didn’t. And, of course, defend him of the embezzlement charge, sir.”

“God help us! We’re barristers, not crusaders, Pitt. I suppose the best we can hope for is that Sidney won’t have you! Slim chance. This is the best firm in London for hopeless cases. You’ve seen to that with your last foray. Well, don’t just stand there! Get on with it, then! I imagine you’ll be no use for anything else, until you’ve finished.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You mean no, sir?”

Daniel stared at him.

Suddenly, Marcus beamed. “Another Gordian knot! You are never a bore, Pitt, I’ll say that for you. Now get out!”

“Yes, sir!”

CHAPTER

Six

JEMIMA ENJOYED HER days with her family. They explored some of the old squares in London, reading the plaques to commemorate once-famous people, both men and women. Charlotte had researched them and explained who they were to Patrick, and incidentally to everyone else. Sophie went out in a pram Charlotte had borrowed for her granddaughter, while Pitt insisted on carrying Cassie on his shoulders. She loved the attention paid to her, repeating much of what Charlotte said but in simpler language. Patrick watched and, with an effort, did not reclaim his daughter. Jemima smiled at him with silent praise.

They played simple games that Cassie could join and laughed a lot. They prepared lunch that could be packed up as a picnic and took it out onto the lawn.

Patrick spent almost all his time with them. Charlotte was utterly charmed with her grandchildren and interested in hearing everything about Jemima’s life in America. Pitt worked only as hard as his conscience drove him. He had no urgent cases at the moment and could happily delegate most of what there was to his juniors. Therefore, it wasn’t until after a late supper, for which Daniel joined them, when they finally went up to bed, that Patrick had the opportunity to speak to Jemima alone.

“I’ve been waiting for the chance to tell you,” he said, drawing the bedroom curtains across the night sky.

“Tell me what?” she asked. She had not caught any urgency in his voice. She looked at him now and realized that she had missed a tension that might have been there all day. Had she unintentionally paid too much attention to catching up on family he did not know, and ignored him? She was annoyed with herself. She had believed that she had no wish to remain in London, but the familiarity of it was easy and comfortable, and there were some good things she had missed. They were trivial: chocolate biscuits, meat pies, the sight of policemen’s helmets characteristic only of London. Red postboxes. Crossing the road without having to think whether the traffic was traveling from the left or the right.

It was the first time Patrick had been out of America. He must feel as strange as she had there at first. She had been unmindful of that, and she regretted it now. She smiled and gave him her full attention.

“Thank you for being so patient while I catch up on the news of Aunt Emily and all the other people you’ve not met.”

He relaxed a little. “I guess they’re my family, too, now. Just like Aunt Bridget is yours!” He smiled widely. “And Uncle Cor

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