"She's hiding in the scullery," said Christina calmly.
"She doesn't like me. Ronnie, I suppose?"
Christina nodded. "Ronnie at first hand may be endurable: as interpreted by Evie he is—there is only one word to describe him—I promised mother that I would never use it again. Any news?"
Beryl nodded. "I had a letter—"
"So did I!" said Christina triumphantly, and drew a blue envelope from her blouse.
"Written by the prison chaplain and dictated by Ambrose. Such a typical letter—all about the kindness of everybody and a minute description of the cell intended, I think, to show how comfortable he is."
Christina had had a similar letter.
"Sir John Maxton is defending him," said Beryl. "That is what I have come to tell you. He is a very great advocate."
They looked at one another, and each had the same thought.
"The best lawyer and the kindest judge and the most sympathetic jury would not save Ambrose," said Christina, and they looked for a long time into one another's eyes and neither saw fear.