"Mortimer, John - Rumpole and the Nanny Society" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mortimer John)

"If your Lordship refuses to allow the question," I said, "I shall go straight to the Court of Appeal."

About the only thing the Bull fears is the Court of Appeal. "You may ask it, I suppose," he grumbled. "I very much doubt if it'll do you much good with the jury."

"I thought she was a very nice girl," Gregthorpe conceded. "I won't say I was in love with her."

"Did you ever tell anyone you were in love with her, or had been in love with her?"

"No."

"There, Mr. Rumpole," the Mad Bull roared with considerable satisfaction. "You've got your answer!" But I hadn't. Not quite.

When the proseuction evidence was finished, I said I wouldn't be calling my client, everything she knew about the matter was in her statement to the police, but I would be calling a Miss Petronella Sanderson, who was in court and prepared to give evidence on behalf of the defence. Petronella went into the box and seemed confident enough. She gave Kirsti an excellent character and then I asked her about the day my client had seen her coming out of the house in Launceston Place. She said she'd spoken to Mr. Gregthorpe on that occasion, but Mrs. Gregthorpe was upstairs in bed.

"How long were you in the house?"

Petronella paused, looked at Kirsti, and said, "I suppose about half an hour, perhaps more."

"Half an hour to find out that date of Max's birthday party?"

"We talked about other things."

"Had you met James Gregthorpe before?"

"Yes." Petronella looked uneasy.

"How many times?"

"Perhaps half a dozen. The boys went to the same nursery school."

"And did you talk about Kirsti?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"What did he tell you about Kirsti?" I looked among my papers hoping to convince the witness that I had a statement from Kirsti detailing the conversation. The trick worked. "Did he tell you they were lovers?" It was a risk, one of the biggest I have taken. The rule is never to ask a question unless you know the answer, but from Kirsti's look of panic and Petronella's confusion, I knew I'd scored a bull's eye.

"Well, yes," she said. "If you like. He told me he'd been in love with her."

"Not if I like. Is that the truth?"

"Yes." Petronella was quiet now, almost inaudible, so that the Bull had to roar. "Keep your voice up, Miss Sanderson."

"Yes, My Lord."

"And what was the date of this conversation?"

"It was two days before Max's birthday."

"So this was on the twentieth of June. Did you speak to Mr. Gregthorpe in his study?"