‘Get up, Wentworth!’ He dashed round the desk and grabbed her by the arm. ‘Sit there!’ He pushed her without ceremony into his own chair and went to perch himself in the seat she had occupied. ‘Now then, instead of bombarding me with bolshy disapproval, just try for a minute or two to pretend you’re representing the State and its interests. The people who employ you to preserve the peace and see justice done. The sword and the scales, Wentworth — they’re in your hands. What are you going to do for the best?’
White with alarm, she was, for once, speechless.
He began to regret his impulsiveness and looked for common ground. ‘From either side of this desk, I’m not at all averse to preserving England’s reputation, but like you I’m unhappy about the role of those Irish lads in all this. They pulled the triggers. They shot two men dead and wounded two more. They will die whatever you or I do or say. And they will have deserved it. But they were paid? incited? persuaded? to commit murder by a third party. A third party who traded on the men’s nationality to achieve a smokescreen of terrorist aggression to hide his own narrow, personal motivation. I will add the two deaths on the gallows to his tally. The Irishmen, the admiral, the beat bobby … Constable Swithins his name was. He leaves a widow and three children. Four men dead.’
‘I’m glad to hear you’ve been keeping count, sir. But this bill — nicely tallied though it is — will never be presented, will it? As you say — the State interest will never allow it.’
‘Presenting and payment — not the same thing, Wentworth, as any tradesman will tell you.’ He came to a decision. ‘It will never be paid for the reasons I’ve given. But I see no harm in confronting the man ultimately responsible. It sounds pretty feeble to your ears, perhaps, but it’s the best I can do. And no one else, believe me, Wentworth, is going to bother.
‘I’m invited to the funeral on Saturday. I shall make time and space for a heart-to-heart chat with the admiral’s killer. There’s an Indian poet I’ve got fond of — Rabindranath Tagore. He has something to say on the subject of punishment. “He only may chastise who loves.” Well, I can’t claim to love the bloke but I think he sensed he had my friendship and respect before all this. And at least, I don’t think he’ll fail to notice the warmth of my concern! I shall name his victims one by one — I may go so far as to write out their names and head it Butcher’s Bill. I’ll note that it is, for the moment, unpaid.’
‘And leave him wriggling in excruciating suspense?’
‘Something like that. I agree, it sounds a bit feeble. He may not care. May just take me for a pompous fool and laugh in my face.’
Lily considered for a moment. ‘Then he would be the fool, sir. But we know that he’s not a foolish man. He is, though, hardened. It would take more than a gentlemanly ticking off from you to penetrate his armour. You’ll have to pierce him in his soft part …’
‘I beg your pardon, Wentworth?’