Page 8 of Triple Jeopardy (Daniel Pitt)

“No one will know about his crime, except if there was someone who advised him to leave, and I presume now has helped him. But even if someone has offered Sidney help, he may not know what Sidney did. He might even think he’s innocent.”

“He might even be innocent, Pitt! No proof, no crime, in law. And from what you’ve said so far, there is no accusation, except what Tobias Thorwood has said, and if he has any sense, not publicly!”

Daniel had come to ask Kitteridge what he thought of what Patrick had suggested, or at least implied, but now he was undecided about it. Was he in a way betraying something Patrick had not intended? Suddenly the idea of bringing Sidney to court on some other charge and then confronting him with the theft and assault in Washington looked far-fetched and bizarre.

“Pitt!” Kitteridge said sharply. “Are you planning something about this? Don’t be a quixotic idiot. You don’t have anything but what your brother-in-law told you—Patrick, is it? Do you actually know anything at all about it?”

“Jemima does. She knows Rebecca…”

Kitteridge sat up straighter. “Jemima is your sister, I presume?”

“Yes. Sorry if I didn’t say so.” Daniel was aware he was presenting this badly, letting emotion get in the way. He had seen clients do it, and he had expected better of himself.

Kitteridge slumped again. “And you are afraid that Patrick is as quixotic as you are, and he may…help…the evidence along a bit?”

Daniel was caught. That was exactly what he feared, but he was very loath to admit it to Kitteridge. It would be more or less going against his own family. But the fact was that he had never met Patrick before, and he had shared many cases, at one level or other, with Kitteridge. They had seen horror and tragedy, evil on many levels, courage, skill, and love, felt all the emotions that go with them, but that still did not make this completely all right. “I think…” he started out, then stopped.

Kitteridge’s expression conveyed the complicated exactness of his feelings.

“All right!” Daniel admitted. “Yes. I don’t know him. I’ve known Jemima always, but people change, especially girls, when they fall in love. Whether you believe Patrick or not, there’s no question at all that it was a wretched crime, and a cowardly way of getting out of answering for it.”

“It seems he has been—” Kitteridge began.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Daniel lost his temper. “Stop being so…so like the vicar’s maiden aunt! It is disgusting! In every way. He has terrified Rebecca, confounded her father, and distressed her mother. And in case you have overlooked it, he has also shamed and disgraced us—Britain—in front of the Americans. We’ll all go down in people’s estimation for that.”

Kitteridge looked startled. Then he began to laugh very quietly.

Daniel’s voice turned to ice. “What is so amusing about that?” he said defiantly.

“You are,” Kitteridge replied. “If your sister is anything like you, I look forward to meeting her.” Then the light and humor vanished from him. “Unfortunately, none of that is a legal argument. Which you ought to know as well as I do. For heaven’s sake, go and persuade her of it. Didn’t her husband, Patrick or whatever his name is, know that? Washington isn’t the Wild West. I know it’s actually very civilized, for a young country.” Kitteridge still looked grim, in spite of his flippant remarks.

“Of course, it is,” Daniel agreed immediately, “but the underbelly of any city can be pretty rough. London is as bad as any.”

“Brings some pretty revolting images to mind,” Kitteridge said with distaste. “But the Thorwood family is hardly the underbelly, nor is the British Embassy.”

“You’re trying to evade the point!” Daniel accused.

Kitteridge cast aside all pretense and became utterly serious. “Are you afraid that Sidney is going to escape punishment for his behavior, and thus blacken Britain’s reputation in Washington, and anywhere else that people know about it?” He drew a deep breath. “Or is your real fear that your brother-in-law is going to try to get round the law by creating false evidence to bring Sidney to trial here, for a made-up crime, so that you can expose the real one?”

Daniel bit his lip. Kitteridge had read him precisely. “Yes, I suppose so, but I can’t let it go!”

“You mean Patrick can’t?” Kitteridge amended.

“Could you?”

“I have to accept the inevitability. I have no choice,” he replied.

Daniel stood up. He was more hurt than he had expected, disappointed in Kitteridge, because he had grown to like him, but even a little frightened because he needed help in his situation with Patrick and he felt out of his depth. “Accept it quite easily, it seems,” he said coldly, and went out the door, almost bumping into Impney carrying a tray of tea.

“Sorry, sir,” Impney said, although it was in no way his fault.

Daniel was ashamed of that. Young men, newly qualified in the law, seemed rather often to think they were superior to Impney, who, although a clerk and not a barrister, probably knew far more than most of them and carried it with more grace.

“It was my fault,” Daniel said quickly. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Probably because I really think I don’t know where I’m going!”

“A difficult case, sir?” Impney inquired sympathetically. “Would you like to take your tea in the law library, sir? I might be able to point you to something there that could be of assistance. Mr. Kitteridge is very familiar with it, but I have been here even longer.” He gave a slight, knowing smile. He liked Kitteridge, but he was aware of his oddities as well. No doubt, in his quiet way, he was aware of everyone’s. He gave the word “devotion” a whole new meaning.

“Yes. Thank you,” Daniel replied. “I have nowhere else to try, at least not yet.”

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