“We have a splendid counsel—the best, I think I may say, in Europe. I’m sure you’ve heard of Sir Harold Anstey?”
Now Jean Bower had also seen a photograph of the famous advocate in a picture paper, and underneath the portrait had been printed the words: “Sir Harold Anstey, affectionately known at the Bar as ‘the murderer’s friend.’”
“Sir Harold is a wonderful man,” went on Mr. Toogood eagerly; “I shall never forget having seen him once in court. It was in the great Panford case. There didn’t seem a hope for the woman in the dock, but he got her off! He has an astonishing way with a jury.”
“I see,” said Jean, again in that toneless, dull voice.
“And then there’s another thing. It’s everything for a witness to have Sir Harold with him or her. I suppose—” he hesitated uncomfortably—“I suppose, Miss Bower, that you realize that a gentleman will soon come from London in order to take a statement from you. On that statement you will be examined and cross-examined—so you must be careful what you say or admit when answering his questions.”
“I quite understand that.”
Jean had already regained her composure, and it was well that she had done so, for, as Mr. Toogood escorted his important visitors down to the front door, by some curious accident every human being in the substantial house happened at that moment either to have business in the hall, or to be standing at one of the doors that gave into the hall.
The lawyer felt vexed. And yet——? Yet even he felt the general excitement contagious. He could not help being glad that his firm was about to play a prominent part in what was evidently going to be a famous case. It was also satisfactory to reflect that Harry Garlett, unlike the vast majority of criminals, was a wealthy man, and that the huge costs were thus certain to be paid.
Even so, as he walked upstairs back to his own room, Mr. Toogood told himself that Jean Bower was the last kind of young woman for whom he would have been tempted to commit murder twenty years ago. She seemed so quiet, so dull, so unemotional.
Mr. Toogood recalled the last time he had been out to Terriford. It had been to take the poor doomed woman’s instructions as to her will. She had only a few thousand pounds to leave, for she had settled the bulk of her fortune on her husband years ago. And suddenly he reminded himself that neither he nor the doctor had mentioned Miss Agatha Cheale, one of Mrs. Garlett’s legatees, who had been actually present at her death. She would be a witness, and an important witness, for the defence, for she, at any rate, could testify as to the excellent terms on which the husband and wife had been.