Kristian led him to his study, a room entirely different, where his own character held sway. Books were piled on shelves, books of all sorts, novels and poetry along with biography, history, philosophy, and medicine. The colors were rich, the curtains velvet, the fireplace faced with copper and the mantel displaying an idiosyncratic collection of ornaments. The icy Mrs. Beck had no place here. In fact, the room reminded Monk rather more of Callandra in its haphazard order, its richness and worth. He could picture her here, her sensitive, humorous face, her long nose, untidy hair, her unerring knowledge of what really mattered.

"What can I do to assist you, Mr. Monk?" Kristian was regarding him with puzzlement. "I really have no idea what happened, and the little I have learned as to why the police suspect Sir Herbert I find very hard to believe. At least if the newspaper reports are correct?"

"Largely," Monk replied, dragging his attention back to the case. "There is a collection of letters from Prudence Barrymore to her sister which suggests that she was deeply in love with Sir Herbert and that he had led her to suppose that he returned her feelings and would take steps to make marriage between them possible."

"But that's ridiculous," Kristian said with concern, silently indicating a chair for Monk to be seated. "What could he possibly do? He has an excellent wife and a large family-seven, I think. Of course he could have walked out, on them, in theory, but in practice it would ruin him, a fact of which he cannot possibly have been unaware."

Monk accepted the invitation and sat down. The chair was extremely comfortable.

"Even if he did, it would not free him to marry Miss Barrymore," he pointed out. "No, I am aware of that, Dr. Beck. But I am interested to learn your opinion of both Sir Herbert and Miss Barrymore. You say you find all this hard to believe-do you believe it?"

Kristian sat opposite him, thinking for a moment before replying, his dark eyes on Monk's face.

"No-no, I don't think I do. Sir Herbert is essentially a very careful man, very ambitious, jealous for his reputation and his status in the medical community, both in Britain and abroad." He put the tips of his fingers together. He had beautiful hands, strong, broad palmed, smaller than Sir Herbert's. 'To become involved in such a way with a nurse, however interesting or attractive," he went on, "would be foolish in the extreme. Sir Herbert is not an impulsive man, nor a man of physical or emotional appetite." He said it without expression, as if he neither admired nor despised such an absence. Looking at his face, Monk knew Dr. Beck was as different from Sir Herbert as it was possible for another clever and dedicated man to be, but he had no indication of Kristian's feelings.

"You used the words intelligent and attractive about Nurse Barrymore," he said curiously. "Did you find her so? I gathered from Lady Ross Gilbert that she was a trifle priggish, naive as to matters of love, and altogether not the sort of woman a man might find appealing."

Kristian laughed. "Yes-Berenice would see her in that light. Two such different women it would be hard to imagine. I doubt they could ever have understood each other."

"That is not an answer, Dr. Beck."

"No, it isn't." He seemed quite unoffended. "Yes, I thought Nurse Barrymore was most attractive, both as a person and, were I free to think so, as a woman. But then my taste is not usual, I confess. I like courage and humor, and I find intelligence stimulating." He crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair, regarding Monk with a smile. "It is, for me, extremely unprofitable to spend my time with a woman who has nothing to talk about but trivia. I dislike simpering and flirting, and I find agreement and obedience essentially very lonely things. If a woman says she agreed with you, whatever her own thoughts, in what sense do you have her true companionship at all? You may as well have a charming picture, because all you are receiving from her are your own ideas back again."

Monk thought of Hermione-charming, docile, pliable- and of Hester-opinionated, obstructive, passionate in her beliefs, full of courage, uncomfortable to be with (at times he disliked her more that anyone else he knew)-but real.

"Yes," he said reluctantly. "I take your point. Do you think it is likely that Sir Herbert also found her attractive?"

"Prudence Barrymore?" Kristian bit his lip thoughtfully. "I doubt it. I know he respected her professional abilities. We all did. But she occasionally challenged his opinions, and that incensed him. He did not accept that from his peers, let alone from a nurse-and a woman."

Monk frowned. "Might that have angered him enough to lash out at her for it?"

Kristian laughed. "Hardly. He was chief surgeon here. She was only a nurse. He had it eminently in his power to crush her without resort to anything so out of character, so dangerous to himself."

"Even if he had been wrong and she was right?" Monk pressed. "It would have become known to others."

Kristian's face suddenly became serious.

"Well, that would put a different complexion upon it, of course. He would not take that well at all. No man would."

"Might her medical knowledge have been sufficient for that to happen?" Monk asked.

Kristian shook his head slightly.

"I don't know. I suppose it is conceivable. She certainly knew a great deal, far more than any other nurse I have ever met, although the nurse who replaced her is extraordinarily good."

Monk felt a quick surge of satisfaction and was instantly discomfited by it.

"Enough?" he said a little more sharply than he had intended.

"Possibly," Kristian conceded. "But have you anything whatever to indicate that that is what happened? I thought he was arrested because of the letters?" He shook his head slightly. "And a woman in love does not show up a man's mistakes to the world. Just the opposite. Every woman I ever met defended a man to the end if she loved him, even if perhaps she should not have. No, Mr. Monk, that is not a viable theory. Anyway, from your initial remarks I gathered you were hired by Sir Herbert's barrister in order to help find evidence to acquit him. Did I misunderstand you?"

It was a polite way of asking if Monk had lied.

"No, Dr. Beck, you are perfectly correct," Monk answered, knowing he would understand the meaning behind (he words as well. "I am testing the strength of the prosecution's case in order to be able to defend against it."

"How can I help you do that?" Kristian asked gravely. "I have naturally thought over the matter again and again, as I imagine we all have. But I can think of nothing which will help or hurt him. Of course I shall testify to his excellent personal reputation and his high professional standing, if you wish it."

"I expect we shall," Monk accepted. "If I ask you here in private, Dr. Beck, will you tell me candidly if you believe him guilty?"

Kristian looked vaguely surprised.

"I will answer you equally candidly, sir. I believe it extremely unlikely. Nothing I have ever seen or heard of the man gives me to believe he would behave in such a violent, unself-disciplined, and overemotional manner."

"How long have you known him?"

"I have worked with him just a little less than eleven years."

"And you will swear to that?"

"I will."

Monk had to think about what the prosecution could draw out by skillful and devious questions. Now was the time to discover, not on the stand when it was too late. He pursued every idea he could think of, but all Kristian's answers were measured and uncritical. He rose half an hour later, thanked Kristian for his time and frankness, and took his leave.

It had been a curiously unsatisfactory interview. He should have been pleased. Kristian Beck had confirmed every aspect of Sir Herbert's character he had wished, and he was more than willing to testify. Why should Monk not be pleased?