The Sins of the Wolf

Rathbone’s head came up, his expression tense.

Argyll’s eyes searched Oonagh’s face.

“Indeed,” Gilfeather said very softly. “And what did your mother propose to do about these fears, Mrs. Mclvor?” He did not ask what the illness was, and Monk heard the whisper and rustle around the crowd as a hundred people let out their breath in release of tension and disappointment.

Oonagh paled a little. Her chin lifted. She knew their thoughts.

“She was going to assure her that the disease of which my father died was contracted long after she was born and was in no way hereditary.” Her voice was very level, very clear. “It was a fever he developed while serving in the army abroad, and it damaged his internal organs, eventually killing him. Griselda was too young to have remembered it accurately, and I suppose at the time of Father’s death she was not told. No one thought it would matter to her.” She hesitated. “I am sorry to say so, but Griselda worries about her health far more than is necessary or natural.”

“You are saying her anxiety was without cause?” Gilfeather concluded.

“Yes. Quite without cause. She would not believe that easily, and Mother was going to see her in person to convince her.”

“I see. Very natural. I am sure any mother might well have done the same.”

Oonagh nodded but did not reply.

There was a faint air of disappointment around the room. Some people’s attention wandered.

Oonagh cleared her throat.

“Yes?” Gilfeather said immediately.

“It is not only my mother’s gray pearl brooch which was missing,” she said carefully. “Although of course we have that back now.”

Now the attention was returned in full. No one fidgeted anymore.

“Indeed?” Gilfeather looked interested.

“There was also a diamond brooch of a great deal more £

value,” Ooaagh said gravely. “It was commissioned from our family jeweler, but it was not among my mother’s effects.”

In the dock Hester straightened up sharply and leaned forward, amazement in her face.

“I see.” Gilfeather stared at Oonagh. “And the estimated worth of the two pieces, Mrs. Mclvor?”

“Oh, a hundred pounds or so for the pearls, and perhaps a little more for the diamonds.”

There was a gasp of breath around the room. The judge frowned and leaned forward a little.

“A very considerable sum indeed,” Gilfeather agreed. “Enough to buy a great many luxuries for a woman living from one chance job to another.”

Rathbone winced, so slightly perhaps only Monk saw it, but he knew exactly why.

“And was this diamond brooch on the list to be packed for London?”

“No. If Mother took it, it was a last-minute decision of her own.”

“I see. But you have not found it among her effects?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Mclvor.”

Gilfeather stepped back, indicating graciously that Argyll might proceed.

Argyll thanked him and rose to his feet.

“This second piece of jewelry, Mrs. Mclvor; you did not mention it earlier. In fact, this is the first time we have heard it referred to. Why is that?”

“Because we did not previously realize that it was missing,” Oonagh answered reasonably.

“How odd! Such a valuable piece must surely have been kept in a safe place, a locked jewel casket or something of the like.”

“I presume so.”

“You don’t know.”

She looked uncertain. “No. It was my mother’s, not mine.”

“How many times have you seen her wear it?”

“I-” She watched him carefully with that same clear, direct look Monk remembered facing himself. “I don’t recall seeing her wear it”

“How do you know she had it at all?”

“Because it was commissioned from our family jeweler, paid for and taken.”

“By whom?”

“I see your point, Mr. Argyll,” she granted. “But it is not mine, nor my sister’s, nor does it belong to my sister-in-law. It can only have been my mother’s. I daresay she wore it on some occasion when I was not present and so I have never noticed it.”

“Is it not possible, Mrs. Mclvor, that it vas a gift for someone else, and not for a member of your family at all?” he suggested. “That would account for why no one has seen it and it is not mere now, would it not?”

“If it were the truth, yes,” Oonagh said dismissively, “But it was very expensive indeed to give someone who is not a member of the family. We are generous, I hope, but not extravagant”

Heads nodded. One woman stifled a giggle, and the man next to her glared at her.

“So you are saying, Mrs. Mclvor, that the brooch was commissioned and yet no one has seen it, although it was paid for, is that right? You are not saying that you have any evidence to suggest that Miss Latterly has it, or ever has had?”

“She had the pearl brooch,” Oonagh pointed out. “Even she does not deny that”

“No, indeed not,” Argyll agreed. “She made every effort to return it to you as soon as she discovered it. But she has not seen the diamond brooch, any more than you have.”

Oonagh flushed, opened her mouth, and then changed her mind and remained silent.

Argyll smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Mclvor. I have nothing further to ask you.”

It was another tiny point gained, but the momentary elation vanished almost as soon as it came. Gilfeather was amused. He could afford to be.

He called the conductor from the train on which Mary Farraline and Hester had traveled. He said exactly what was expected. No one else, as far as he knew, had gone into the carriage. The two women had been alone the entire journey. Yes, Mrs. Farraline had left the compartment at least once, to attend the requirements of nature. Yes, Miss Latterly had called him in a state of some distress to report the death of the elder lady. He had gone along to see, and indeed, he deeply regretted to say so, but she had been dead. He had done his duty as soon as he had arrived in London. It was all very sad.

Argyll knew well enough not to alienate the jury by questioning what was too well established to state, and he would only harass an ordinary little man following his calling. He waved away his opportunity to cross-examine with a flick of his hand and an inclination of Ms head.

The stationmaster also said only what was entirely predictable, if in places self-important, nervous and melodramatic.

Again Monk’s attention wandered to the faces around the room. He was able to watch Hester for several moments because she was staring at the witness-box. He regarded her curiously. She was not beautiful, but tense, frightened as she was now, there was a quality of refinement in her which was like a kind of beauty. It was stripped of all artifice or pretense, even the mask of usual good ma

The sense of helplessness was so intense it was like a pain in his chest. But even if he could have spoken to her, he knew there was nothing to say which she did not already know. Perhaps it would have helped if he could have lied. He would never know that, because he could not. He would not do it well, and to do it badly would only place a barrier between them which would make it all worse.

Oonagh had remained in the courtroom. He could see her fair hair across her brow beneath the brim of the dark bo

Did she know who had killed her mother? Did she guess, knowing her siblings as well as she did? He studied her features, the smooth brow, the level eyes, the long straight nose, the full mouth, almost perfectly shaped. Each feature was good, and yet the whole had too much power in it for ordinary beauty. Had she taken over the mantle of leadership on Mary’s death? Was she protecting the family honor, or one individual member’s weakness or evil?