“A billiard room,” Pitt replied. “Yes, I saw that there was a very recent scar on the edge of the door, thin and curving upwards, just above the latch.”

“A curious place to damage a door,” Juster remarked. “Not possible while the door was closed, I should think?”

“No, only if it were open,” Pitt agreed. “Which would make playing at the table very awkward.”

Juster rested his hands on his hips. It was a curiously angular pose, and yet he looked at ease.

“So it was most likely to be caused by someone going in or coming out?”

Gleave was on his feet again, his face flushed. “As has been observed, it was awkward to play with the door open, surely that question answers itself, my lord? Someone scratched the open door with a billiard cue, precisely because, as Mr. Pitt has so astutely and uselessly pointed out, it was awkward.” He smiled broadly, showing perfect teeth.

There was complete silence in the courtroom.

Pitt glanced up at Adinett, who was sitting forward in the dock now, motionless.

Juster looked almost childlike in his innocence, except that his unusual face was not cast for such an expression. He looked up at Pitt as if he had not thought of such a thing until this instant.

“Did you enquire into that possibility, Superintendent?”

Pitt stared back at him. “I did. The housemaid who dusted and polished the room assured me that there had been no such mark there that morning, and no one had used the room since.” He hesitated. “The scar was raw wood. There was no polish in it, no wax or dirt.”

“You believed her?” Juster held up his hand, palm towards Gleave. “I apologize. Please do not answer that, Mr. Pitt. We shall ask the housemaid in due course, and the jury will decide for themselves whether she is an honest and competent person… and knows her job. Perhaps Mrs. Fetters, poor woman, can also tell us whether she was a good maid or not.”

There was a rumble of embarrassment, irritation and laughter from the court. The tension was broken. For Gleave to have spoken now would have been a waste of time, and the knowledge of that was dark in his face, heavy brows drawn down.

The judge drew in his breath, then let it out again without speaking.

“Then what did you do, Superintendent?” Juster said lightly.

“I asked the butler if Mr. Adinett had carried a stick of any description,” Pitt replied. Then, before Gleave could object, he added, “He did. The footman confirmed it.”

Juster smiled. “I see. Thank you. Now, before my honorable friend asks you, I will ask you myself. Did you find anyone who had overheard any quarrel, any harsh words or differences of opinion, between Mr. Adinett and Mr. Fetters?”

“I did ask, and no one had,” Pitt admitted, remembering ruefully how very hard he had tried. Even Mrs. Fetters, who had come to believe her husband had been murdered, could think of no instance when he and Adinett had quarreled, and no other reason at all why Adinett should have wished him harm. It was as utterly bewildering as it was horrible.

“Nevertheless, from these slender strands, you formed the professional opinion that Martin Fetters had been murdered, and by John Adinett?” Juster pressed, his eyes wide, his voice smooth. He held up long slender hands, ticking off the points. “The moving of a library armchair, three books misplaced on the shelves, a scuff mark on a carpet and a piece of fluff caught in the crack of a heel, and a fresh scratch on a billiard room door? On this you would see a man convicted of the most terrible of crimes?”

“I would see him tried for it,” Pitt corrected, feeling the color hot in his face. “Because I believe that his murder of Martin Fetters is the only explanation that fits all the facts. I believe he murdered him in a sudden quarrel and then arranged it to look like-”

“My lord!” Gleave said loudly, again on his feet, his arms held up.

“No,” the judge said steadily. “Superintendent Pitt is an expert in the matter of evidence of crime. That has been established over his twenty years in the police force.” He smiled very bleakly, a sad, wintry humor. “It is for the jury to decide for themselves whether he is an honest and competent person.”

Pitt glanced over at the jury, and saw the foreman nod his head very slightly. His face was smooth, calm, his eyes steady.

A woman in the gallery laughed and then clapped her hands over her mouth.

Gleave’s face flushed a dull purple.

Juster bowed, then waved his hand to Pitt to continue.

“To look like an accident,” Pitt finished. “I believe he then left the library, locking the door from the outside. He went downstairs, said good-bye to Mrs. Fetters and was shown out by the butler, and observed to leave by the footman also.”

The foreman of the jury glanced at the man beside him, their eyes met, and then they both returned their attention to Pitt.

Pitt went on with his description of events as he believed them.

“Adinett went outside, down the road a hundred feet or so, then came back through the side entrance to the garden. A man answering his general description was seen at exactly that time. He went in through the side door of the house, upstairs to the library again, opened it, and immediately rang the bell for the butler.”

There was utter silence in the courtroom. Every eye was on Pitt. It was almost as if everyone had held their breath.

“When the butler came, Adinett stood where the open door would hide him,” he continued. “When the butler went behind the chair to Mr. Fetters, as he had to, Adinett stepped out, going across the hall to the billiard room in case the butler should raise the alarm and the other servants came up the stairs. Then, when the landing was empty, he went out, in his haste catching his stick against the door. He left the house, this time unseen.”

There was a sigh around the room and a rustle of fabric as people moved at last.

“Thank you, Superintendent.” Juster bowed very slightly. “Circumstantial, but as you said, the only answer which fits all the facts.” He looked across at the jury for a moment, then back again. “And while it would be convenient for us to tell the court why this dreadful thing happened, we are not obliged to-only to demonstrate to them that it did. That I think you have done admirably. We are obliged to you.” Very slowly he swung around and invited Gleave to step forward.

Pitt turned to Gleave, his body tense, waiting for the attack Juster had warned him would come.

“After luncheon, I think, my lord,” Gleave said with a smile, his heavy face tight with anticipation. “I shall take far longer than the mere quarter of an hour which is available to us now.”

That did not surprise Pitt. Juster had said over and over again that the essence of the case depended upon his testimony, and he should expect Gleave to do what he could to tear it apart. Still, he was too conscious of what awaited him to enjoy the mutton and vegetables that were offered him at the public house around the corner from the court, and uncharacteristically he left them half eaten.

“He will try to ridicule or deny all the evidence,” Juster said, staring across the table at Pitt. He too had little relish for his food. His hand lay on the polished wooden surface, moving restlessly as if only courtesy kept him from drumming his fingers. “I don’t think the maid will stand up to him. She’s frightened enough of just being in a courtroom, without a ‘gentleman’ questioning her intelligence and her honesty. If he suggests she can’t tell one day from another, she’s very likely to agree with him.”

Pitt took a small drink from his cider. “That won’t work with the butler.”

“I know,” Juster agreed, pulling his lips into a grimace. “And Gleave will know it too. He’ll try a different approach altogether. If it were me, I would flatter him, take him into my confidence, find a way of suggesting that Fetters’s reputation depended on his death having been an accident rather than murder. Gleave will do the same, I’d wager money on it. Reading character, finding weaknesses is his profession.”