They must find the third man, with either irrefutable proof or sufficient accusations not to be denied. And that would mean the help of Cassian, Valentine Furnival, if he were also a victim, and anyone else who knew about it or suspected- Miss Buchan, for example.

And Miss Buchan would risk everything if she made such a charge. The Carlyons would throw her out and she would be destitute. And who else would take her in, a woman too old to work, who made charges of incest and sodomy against the employers who had fed and housed her in her old age?

No, there was little comfort in a long, useless weekend. She wished she could curl over and go back to sleep, but it was broad daylight; through a chink in the curtain the sun was bright, and she must get up and see how Major Tiplady was. Not that he was unable to care for himself now, but she might as well do her duty as fully as possible to the end.

Perhaps the morning could be usefully spent in beginning to look for a new post. This one could not last beyond the confusion of the trial. She could afford a couple of weeks without a position, but not more. And it would have to be one where she lived in the house of the patient. She had given up her lodgings, since the expense of keeping a room when she did not need one was foolish, and beyond her present resources. She pushed dreams of any other sort of employment firmly out of her mind. They were fanciful, and without foundation, the maunderings of a silly woman.

After breakfast she asked Major Tiplady if he would excuse her for the day so she might go out and begin to enquire at various establishments that catered to such needs if mere were any people who required a nurse such as herself. Unfortunately midwifery was something about which she knew almost nothing, nor about the care of infant children. There was a much wider need for that type of nursing.

Reluctantly he agreed, not because he needed her help in anything, simply because he had grown used to her company and liked it. But he could see the reasoning, and accepted it.

She thanked him, and half an hour later was about to leave when the maid came in with a surprised look on her face to announce that Mrs. Sobell was at the door.

“Oh!” The major looked startled and a little pink. “To see Miss Latterly, no doubt? Please show her in, Molly! Don't leave the poor lady standing in the hall!”

“No sir. Yes sir.” Molly's surprise deepened, but she did as she was bidden, and a moment later Edith came in, dressed in half-mourning of a rich shade of pink lilac. Hester thought privately she would have termed it quarter-mourning, if asked. It was actually very pretty, and the only indications it had anything to do with death were the black lace trimmings and black satin ribbons both on the shawl and on the bonnet. Nothing would change the individuality of her features, the aquiline nose that looked almost as if it had been broken, very slightly crooked, and far too flat, the heavy-lidded eyes and the soft mouth, but Edith looked remarkably gentle and feminine today, in spite of her obvious unhappiness.

The major climbed to his feet, utterly disregarding his leg, which was now almost healed but still capable of giving him pain. He stood almost to attention.

“Good morning, Mrs. Sobell. How very nice to see you. I hope you are well, in spite of…”He stopped, looking at her more closely. “I'm sorry, what a foolish thing to say. Of course you are distressed by all that is happening. What may we do to comfort you? Please come in and sit down; at least make yourself comfortable. No doubt you wish to speak to Miss Latterly. I shall find myself some occupation.”

“No, no! Please,” Edith said quickly and a little awkwardly.

“I should be most uncomfortable if you were to leave on my account. I have nothing in particular to say. I-I simply…” Now she too colored very pink. “I-I simply wished to be out of the house, away from my family-and…”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “You wished to be able to speak your mind without fear of causing offense or distress to those you love.”

Her face flooded with relief, ““ifou are extraordinarily perceptive, Major Tiplady.”

Now his cheeks were very red and he had no idea where to look.

“Oh please sit down,” Hester interrupted, acting to stop the awkwardness, or at least to give it respite. “Edith.”

“Thank you,” Edith accepted, and for the first time in Hester's acquaintance with her, she arranged her skirts elegantly and sat upright on the edge of the seat, as a lady should. In spite of the grimness of the situation Hester was obliged to hide a smile.

Edith sighed. “Hester, what is happening? I have never been to a trial before, and I don't understand. Mr. Rathbone is supposed to be so brilliant, and yet from what I hear it seems he is doing nothing at all. I could do as much. So far all he has achieved is to persuade us all that Thaddeus was quite innocent of any affair, either with Louisa Furnival or anyone else. And to add that Alexandra knew it too. What possible good can that do?” Her face was screwed up with incomprehension, her eyes dark and urgent. “It makes Alexandra look even worse in a way, because it takes from her any possible reason that one could attempt to understand, if not forgive. Why? She has already confessed that she did do it, and it has been proved. He didn't challenge that. In fact if anything he reconfirmed it. Why, Hester? What is he doing?”

Hester had told Edith nothing of their appalling discoveries, and now she hesitated, wondering if she should, or if by so doing she might foil Rathbone's plans for examination in the witness box. Was it possible that in spite of the outrage she would undoubtedly feel, Edith's family loyalty would be powerful enough for her to conceal the shame of it? Might she even disbelieve it?

Hester dare not put it to the test. It was not her prerogative to decide, not her life in the balance, nor her child whose future lay in the judgment.

She sat down in the chair opposite Edith.

“I don't know,” she lied, meeting her friend's eyes and hating the deceit. “At least I have only guesses, and it would be unfair to him and to you to give you those.” She saw Edith's face tighten as if she had been struck, and the fear deepened in her eyes. “But I do know he has a strategy,” she hurried on, leaning forward a little, only dimly aware of Major Tiplady looking anxiously from one to the other of them.

“Does he?” Edith said softly. “Please don't try to give me hope, Hester, if there really isn't any. It is not a kindness.”

The major drew breath to speak, and both turned to look at him. Then he changed his mind and remained silent and unhappy,'facing Hester.

' “There is hope,” Hester said firmly.”But I don't know how great it is. It all depends on convincing the jury that-”

“What?” Edith said quickly.' “What can he convince them of? She did it! Even Rathbone himself has proved that! What else is there?”

Hester hesitated. She was glad Major Tiplady was there, although there was nothing he could do, but his mere presence was a kind of comfort.

Edith went on with a feint, bitter smile. “He can hardly persuade them she was justified. Thaddeus was painfully virtuous-all the things that count to other people.” She frowned suddenly. “Actually we still don't know why she did do it. Is he going to say she is mad? Is that it? I don't think she is.” She glanced at the major. “And they have subpoenaed me to give evidence. What shall I do?”

“Give evidence,” Hester answered. “There's nothing else you can do. Just answer the questions they ask and no more. But be honest. Don't try to guess what they want. It is up to Rathbone to draw it from you. If you look as if you arc trying to help it will show and the jury won't believe you. Just don't lie-about anything he asks you.”

“But what can he ask me? I don't know anything.”