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Pitt did not interrupt.
Daniel took a breath and started again. ‘The accused was found guilty and sentenced to be hanged. There are seventeen days left. Sixteen, tomorrow. Marcus put the senior lawyer into finding grounds to appeal in law, and me on finding grounds in fact . . . like another major suspect . . .’
‘And have you found one?’ Pitt asked quietly.
It was the moment when Daniel had to tell him the truth. There was no evading it, other than lying.
‘Not by name, but by a major motive, which I’m afraid makes a lot of sense.’
‘Afraid? Why? What is it?’
This was the moment beyond which he could not retreat.
Daniel looked away, and then back at his father. ‘Have you ever heard of Russell Graves?’
‘No. Who is he?’
‘You’ve never heard of him? No one you know has ever even mentioned his name?’
‘No. Why should they have? Who is he?’ Pitt asked. A flicker of anxiety crossed his face.
Daniel saw it. ‘He is a particularly unpleasant biographer. Likes to rip the mask off people we have regarded as heroes, for one reason or another.’
‘It happens,’ Pitt replied, his voice almost without inflection, giving away nothing. ‘Every good man, or woman, has their detractors. Some see them as saints, and rob them of their humanity. Others cannot believe in a quality they don’t have themselves, and want to force us to see their flaws. Usually, we sort them out. But you cannot suppress opinions, and we shouldn’t try. Why do you mention Graves in particular?’ He frowned. ‘Isn’t that the man who murdered his wife, and then disfigured her face?’
Daniel swallowed. ‘Yes. Except he claims he didn’t. But whether he did or not, the book he’s planning to write will have given him a great number of enemies who would be glad to see him hang, but even more than that, totally dishonoured. Although I’m afraid that his hanging may well make some people of a certain sort want to read what he has written.’
Pitt’s face was filled with sympathy, which softened all the lines in it, making him look younger and much more vulnerable. ‘There will always be people like that. There’s nothing we can do about it.’
Daniel felt the sweat on his hands. ‘There ought to be,’ he replied. ‘It’s not just unpleasant. I have to investigate, in case it is true that somebody else killed his wife, in order to ruin him. Silence him permanently, by hanging.’
‘You just said it won’t save him,’ Pitt pointed out.
Daniel was losing control of it. He could not back out now. ‘The man he has exposed is Victor Narraway . . .’
Pitt looked incredulous. ‘What?’
‘Victor Narraway,’ Daniel repeated.
‘Exposing him as what?’ Pitt asked incredulously. ‘Head of Special Branch? For God’s sake, everybody who mattered knew that. And Victor’s dead. He hasn’t got any family to pay . . . or whatever this man wants.’
‘He’s not looking for money. He’s just inherited a whole fortune. Lands, money and a title. But it isn’t only Narraway . . .’ This was hard to say. Pitt didn’t seem to have understood it – not really.
Pitt waited, his face paler now, the tension apparent in the way he sat.
‘Graves has painted him as corrupt.’ Daniel swallowed. ‘He says Narraway had a file of information on people which he used to blackmail them, to give himself more and more power. And he also said . . .’ This was even harder than he had foreseen. He felt as if it would make it sound believable, just by repeating it. ‘He says that Aunt Vespasia slept with all sorts of people to get information . . . personal information about important people, that she was . . . a high-class whore.’ He watched Pitt’s expression move from incredulity to understanding, to fury, then to grief.
‘I’m sorry . . .’ Daniel began.
Pitt put up his hand, as if that could silence Daniel.
‘I had to tell you!’ Daniel said, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘And he says you use the same file of names to keep power. He . . .’ He tailed off. He could not repeat Graves’ words about Pitt. Even to say it sounded as if Pitt had to justify himself to Daniel. He could not do it. ‘He is suggesting that someone in Special Branch killed Ebony Graves, to keep anyone from publishing Graves’ book. I have to prove that is not true! It’s . . . it’s his only defence. And they’re going to hang him in a less than three weeks. I don’t believe it, but that isn’t good enough . . .’
Pitt seemed to be stunned. He blinked once or twice. ‘Did he say where he got his information from?’
‘No. He knows that I’m your son. He seemed to take some pleasure in that.’
‘So, he used it to manipulate you? Or to have some sort of revenge on you that you didn’t save him?’
