"I think it might be a good idea to fingerprint them too-and the little cardboard box. There are judges who don't like handwriting experts, but the two together would convince even a judge."
"Well," Robert said, handing them over, "at least my clients are not going to be sentenced to hard labour."
"There's nothing like looking on the bright side," Ramsden commented dryly; and Robert laughed.
"You think I'm ungrateful for such a dispensation. I'm not. It's a terrific load off my mind. But the real load is still there. Proving that Rose Glyn is a thief, liar, and blackmailer-with perjury thrown in as a sideline-leaves Betty Kane's story still untouched. And it is Betty Kane's story that we set out to disprove."
"There's still time," Ramsden said; but half-heartedly.
"About all there is time for is a miracle."
"Well? Why not? They happen. Why shouldn't they happen to us? What time shall I telephone you tomorrow?"
But it was Kevin who telephoned on the morrow; full of congratulations and jubilation. "You're a marvel, Rob. I'll make mincemeat of them."
Yes, it would be a lovely little exercise in cat-and-mouse play for Kevin; and the Sharpes would walk out of the court "free." Free to go back to their haunted house and their haunted existence; two half-mad witches who had once threatened and beaten a girl.
"You don't sound very gay, Rob. Is it getting you down?"