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endeavor wish to remain anonymous even from his attorney? From the public was easy enough to understand. They might well assume that he had some sympathy for the accused, and it would be only too clear to see why he would avoid that. “If I am bound to secrecy, I shall observe it,” Rathbone said gently. “Surely you told him that?”
    “Of course I did,” Ballinger said quickly “However, he is adamant. I cannot move him on the subject. As far as you are concerned, I shall represent the accused man to you, and act on his behalf. All you need to know is that you will be paid in full, by a man of the utmost honor and probity, and that the money is earned by his own skills, which are in every way above suspicion. I will swear to that.” He sat motionless, staring earnestly at Rathbone. In a man of less composure it might even have been thought imploringly.
    Rathbone felt uncomfortable that his own father-in-law should have to plead for the professional assistance he had always been willing to give, even to strangers and men he profoundly disliked, because it was his calling. He was an advocate; his job was to speak on behalf of those who were not equipped to speak for themselves, and who would suffer injustice if there were no one to take their part. The system of the law was adversarial. The sides must be equal in skill and in dedication; otherwise the whole issue was a farce.
    “Of course I will act for your client,” he said earnestly. “Give me the necessary papers and a retaining fee, and then all we say will be privileged.”
    Ballinger relaxed fully at last. “Your word is good enough, Oliver. I shall have all that you need sent to your office in the morning. I am extremely grateful. I wish I could tell Margaret what an excellent man you are, but no doubt she is already perfectly aware. I am delighted now that she had enough sense not to allow her mother earlier to push her into a marriage of convenience, although I admit I was exasperated at the time.” He smiled ruefully. “If you are going to have a strong-minded woman in the house, it is better to have two, preferably of opposing views. Then you can back one or the other, and achieve the goal you wish.” He sighed, and there was a momentary sadness in his face, in spite of the relief. “I cannot say how much I appreciate you, Oliver.”
    Rathbone did not know how to answer; he was even a trifle embarrassed by Ballinger's regard. He directed the conversation towards the practical. “Who am I to defend? You said the charge was murder?”
    “Yes. Yes, regrettably so.”
    “Who is he, and who was the victim?” He knew better than to warn Ballinger not to tell him of any confession, which would jeopardize his standing as an officer of the court.
    “Jericho Phillips,” Ballinger replied, almost casually.
    Rathbone suddenly became aware that Ballinger was watching him intently, but beneath his lashes, as if he could conceal the fact. “The man charged with killing the boy found down the river at Greenwich?” he asked. He had read a little about it, and already he was unaccountably chilled.
    “That's right,” Ballinger replied. “He denies it. Says the boy ran away, and he has no idea who killed him.”
    “Then why is he charged? They must have some evidence. River Police, isn't it? Monk is not a fool.”
    “Of course not,” Ballinger said smoothly. “I know he is a friend of yours, or at least he has been in the past. But even good men can make mistakes, especially when they are new to a job, and a little too eager to succeed.”
    Rathbone felt more stung on Monk's behalf than he would have expected to. “I haven't seen him lately. I have been busy and I imagine so has he, but I still regard him as a friend.”
    Regret and contrition filled Ballinger's face. “I apologize. I did not mean to imply otherwise. I hope I have not placed you in a position where you will have to question the judgment of a man you like and respect.”
    “Liking Monk