Acceptable Loss - Anne Perry [132]
“Ah, yes.” Winchester nodded. “Mr. Rupert Cardew. But of course since she is dead, her testimony remains unspoken.”
“It might have remained unspoken even if she were alive,” Ballinger pointed out. “It is possible she repented of it, and told him that she could not go through with it.”
Rathbone’s sense of ease was slipping away from him. He rose to his feet. “My lord, this is a piece of speculation that has no place here. We cannot know what Miss Benson would have said, nor can we question her to prove its truth, or otherwise. If my learned friend has something to ask Mr. Ballinger, please instruct him to do so. Otherwise, he is wasting the court’s time.”
The judge leaned forward, but before he could speak, Winchester apologized.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I shall proceed. Mr. Ballinger, you said that you had no direct knowledge of the trade that was carried on by Mr. Parfitt in the boat you helped him purchase?”
“That’s right. None at all,” Ballinger replied coolly.
“And to the best of your knowledge, you were not acquainted with any of the men who patronized it and indulged in these acts, and, as a result, were blackmailed?”
Rathbone stood up again. “My lord, Mr. Winchester is merely repeating evidence we have already been through.”
The judge sighed. “Mr. Winchester, is there some point to all of this?”
“Yes, my lord. I intend to call Mr. Ballinger’s honesty into very grave doubt—in particular, with regard to this last issue.”
“To what purpose?” Rathbone demanded. “He has said that he does not know any of these men, as far as he is aware. None of us knows what weaknesses or vices people may have, and thank God, for the most part, it is none of our business. They may be men you know! Or any of us knows.” He spread his arms in a wide gesture, to include the whole room, the jurors, the gallery, even the judge. “And since the court does not know who they are, this is futile.”
“Sir Oliver is right,” the judge agreed. “Move on, Mr. Winchester, if you have anything else upon which to cross-examine Mr. Ballinger. Otherwise, let us put the matter to the jury.”
“But we do know who these men are, my lord,” Winchester said clearly. “At least I do.”
Suddenly there was total silence in the room. No one stirred. No one even coughed.
“I beg your pardon?” the judge said at last.
“I know who they are,” Winchester repeated.
Rathbone felt the sweat break out on his skin and a prickle of fear sharp inside him, although he did not even know why. He stared at Winchester.
“Were you aware of this, Sir Oliver?” the judge asked.
“No, my lord. I would question its veracity, and why Mr. Winchester has not referred to it before.”
“I came by it only this weekend, my lord,” Winchester replied to the judge.
“From whom?” the judge demanded.
Rathbone knew the answer the moment before it was spoken.
“From Mr. Rupert Cardew, my lord,” Winchester said. “In the interests of justice, he provided it—”
Rathbone lurched to his feet. “How can that possibly be in the interests of justice?” he demanded. “It has nothing to do with the case, except possibly to prove that there were a large number of men who may well have had motive to wish Parfitt dead. And who is to say that this list is accurate? It could be the complete fabrication of a man who has an intense interest in seeing Mr. Ballinger convicted, in order to remove all suspicion from himself!”
“He will testify to the names, if necessary,” Winchester replied. “And with diligence, it should be possible to prove that all of them have visited the boat, at some time or other, most of them fairly regularly.”
“A long and tedious job,” Rathbone rejoined. “And irrelevant to this case, my lord!”
“Not irrelevant, my lord,” Winchester said. “I mention it to throw extreme doubt on Mr. Ballinger’s innocence in this matter. Sir Oliver paved the way for me in his own examination by asking the witness about his knowledge of the boat, and Mr. Ballinger replied that he did not know its business, nor was he aware of knowing any of the men who patronized it. I have the list of names, my lord. I regret