“Oh, yes,” Gastineau answered, “I knew something of them in the old days in my earlier state of existence. It all seems so long ago, my former acquaintances are like the figures in a dream. Yes,” he continued reminiscently; “I recollect the Countess, a handsome, fair girl with a beautiful voice, and more character in her than one usually associates with those of her complexion. And the brother? Yes; more like an Englishman than a foreigner, with a taste for sport, natural rather than acquired; a man whom one would trust to play the game. Well, let’s hope he’ll win it this time. We will do our best, eh, Geof?”
“I hope we shall,” Herriard answered heartily, adding, “Your help will be very necessary here.”
“Of course, my dear boy, you shall have the best I can give you. Although it strikes me you can almost run alone now.”
“Not I,” Herriard protested, wondering whether he detected a note of unwillingness in the other’s speech. “Some cases, naturally, are plain sailing, and I have gained experience and profited immensely under your guidance; but here, I am sure, I should be utterly at sea without you. It will be a terribly delicate case to handle, and the slightest mistake in tactics may make all the difference.”
“No doubt,” Gastineau agreed. “Yet practically the onus probandi will be on the other side. If the Countess has nothing to fear from cross-examination, you ought not to have a very difficult task in getting a verdict. Always supposing, as I say, that she is keeping nothing back.”
“Bowyer is positive. She has at any rate convinced him. And he is no fool.”
“No, old John Bowyer can see farther into a client’s mind than most of his sort. Well, we shall see. Only don’t forget, my dear Geof, that a presumably innocent woman, with as fair and frank an appearance as this Countess Alexia, can be deeper than you and I and all the tribe of Bowyers put together. I am thinking,” he added quickly, “of your reputation. It would be bad for it if you made a mistake now.”
“Under your auspices I don’t think I shall. It looks like being the case of the century. Fancy the Duke in the box under fire from Macvee.”
“The other side have him?”
“So Bowyer thought. The Duke will have a bad quarter of an hour on the subject of the hushing up of the result of the post-mortem.”