Prince of Secrets (18 page)

‘Really, Dinah,' she pouted. ‘What a fuss about nothing. I was merely telling you the latest gossip—not passing judgement on its truth!'

‘Well, I don't want to hear it. I detest back-biting. I would have thought that you might be sorry for poor Susanna. I
know how much she wanted the baby. She has not had the happiest of lives.'

Dinah had realised immediately, even as he had told her, that the older woman whom Cobie had loved once, and who had rejected him, to both their subsequent pain, must have been Susanna. After his confession to her the other night, she was also sure that he was telling her the truth when he had implied that so far as he was concerned it had been all over between them for years.

She sat down again, and began pouring tea as though nothing had happened. For the first time she had put Violet down, and both sisters knew that henceforward it would be Dinah who dictated the terms on which they lived and met, not as heretofore, the other way round.

Oh, yes, the whirligig of time was bringing in its revenges—for Dinah, as well as for Cobie.

O
n the day that the Markendale action began the New York papers were full of screaming headlines telling how Mr Jacobus—Cobie—Grant had made a fortune in the stock market on no less than three fronts. He had brought off a coup in Public Utilities, another in the world of mining where he was now the owner of the biggest Trust in that area, and finally one in diamonds.

Afterwards Dinah was to think of that time in amazement, that while Cobie had been coping with Walker, with the action which Sir Ratcliffe had brought against him and doing a myriad other things, he had also been busy creating an enormous fortune as though nothing else in life mattered.

The American papers called him ‘The Dollar Prince, part of London's swell set, friend of the Prince of Wales and a leader of fashion'. All that, and well on the way to becoming one of the world's richest men into the bargain—and he hadn't yet reached thirty! The headlines became ecstatic.

By the next day the news had reached London—to be added to the excitement there which Sir Ratcliffe's action was already causing. Most of those interested—and the interest was enormous—were compelled to follow the case in
the Press. Admission to the court was by ticket only—and the judge had been considerate enough to his family and friends to see that they were given the lion's share of the tickets! There was also room for the Prince's entourage and his friends—the court had been altered to accommodate him and them in comfort.

Cobie was remembering other courts of law in which he had been present. He had never before been the accused or a defendant in a civil action such as this one was, only a witness. Dinah had insisted on attending—he had thought that morning that there was something transparent about her beauty these days. She hadn't yet told him that she was expecting his child. Rightly or wrongly, she didn't want to do so with the shadows of the action, and his other secret activities, hanging over them. She wanted it to be a joyful event which they could both celebrate.

She was sitting next to Violet who had come to support Kenilworth, and was wearing her most splendid furs. They could see all the defendants as well as the Prince, Hervey Beauchamp and Sir Francis Knollys, who were both there to advise him.

Excitement began almost immediately, for Sir Halbert, opening for Sir Ratcliffe, launched an immediate attack on the four defendants who, he announced, had brought the accusation against his client for their own private reasons, none of them creditable, and would so prove as the case unfolded.

He was a tall man, in contrast to Sir Darcy, and used his height magnificently to dominate and intimidate the jurors, all sober middle and lower middle-class men, most of whom were highly critical of gentlemen who spent their days at Markendale gambling at the races, and their evenings gambling on the card tables. That the Prince of Wales was one
of their number—nay, more, was one of the bankers—was even more scandalous.

If he had not known exactly what Sir Ratcliffe was, and what crimes he had been committing, Cobie admitted to himself, as Sir Halbert continued, that he would have found little difficulty in believing that he was a much put-upon and victimised man.

Sir Halbert made much of his career. ‘He was an officer in the Life Guards,' he intoned, ‘with a most distinguished record of service. Later, on inheriting, he thought it fit to put his talents at the disposal of his country by resigning and standing for Parliament. Once elected, he had held a series of minor offices, and it was possible that had not this villainous plot been put into motion at Markendale, he would have been considered for even higher office.

‘Worse, whilst he was at Markendale, he had not only had his reputation blown upon, but the suite of Heneage diamonds, one of the glories of the world, had been stolen from him. His wife had been so stunned by the loss that she had retreated into private life, giving him a third major blow.'

At this point Sir Halbert's voice sank to a whisper. Cynically, Cobie expected him to produce a handkerchief and wipe away a tear. He was not to know that Sir Halbert had considered this, but had thought that he might be going too far.
His
magic trick was to appear not to have one.

He paused long enough for everyone to assimilate ‘the dreadful blows which had afflicted an honest and honourable gentleman, the latest in a long line of distinguished servants of his crown and country', before continuing his opening speech.

‘The question is a simple one, gentlemen of the jury. Did Sir Ratcliffe, or did he not, cheat at cards? Further, did he, or did he not, sign a paper saying that he had done so, only
to save the reputation of the Prince of Wales, should the matter be brought into the open, having been assured that the matter would go no further? But the matter
did
go further, it
was
brought into the open by one or more of the defendants, to his ultimate detriment and his social ruin, and that is why we are in court today. I hope to demonstrate that there was a conspiracy against him, and that the members of it acted dishonourably, for reasons which I will make plain.

‘I shall also be calling the Prince of Wales as a witness. I must also make it quite plain to you, gentlemen of the jury, that my client is not attacking the Prince in any way. He merely considers that the Prince was unlucky enough to be misinformed by some of those around him.'

So far, so good—for Sir Ratcliffe. No one would think from his manner that Sir Halbert was making bricks without straw. Kenilworth leaned over and whispered in Cobie's ear, ‘What the devil's all this flim flam about a conspiracy against the feller? He cheated at cards.
That
was the dishonourable bit. What does the pen-pusher think he's doing?'

‘He's slinging mud about, in the hope that some of it will stick,' Cobie whispered back.

He didn't like the way that the foreman of the jury was glaring at them. Idle devils all, his expression said. The bit about Sir Ratcliffe having been an officer in the Life Guards was definitely one up for him.

After that Sir Halbert proceeded to offer the jury a straightforward account of what had happened at Markendale—or rather what Sir Ratcliffe claimed had happened. Cobie stole another look at the spectators—and there was Hendrick Van Deusen. How the devil had he managed to obtain a ticket?

Unknown to Cobie another interested spectator was in Court, but not in the distinguished visitors' seats. Walker
had persuaded one of the ushers to let him in and, hidden from view, was watching the early proceedings—and Mr Dilley, of course. Mr Dilley was looking as charmingly impassive as usual. His impassivity didn't change when Sir Halbert reached the end of his exposition, and called his chief witness, Sir Ratcliffe Heneage.

There was a stir in court when he took the stand. Even the judge took a sudden interest in the affair, having previously looked as though he were going to sleep. He had a close-up view of ‘the noble baronet' as the Press was to call him the next day.

The society ladies sitting in the back of the court fetched out their opera glasses in order to see him better. Violet wielded hers in style, saying in a loud stage whisper to Dinah, ‘What a cad he looks. Whatever did Susanna Winthrop see in him?' Dinah silently agreed with her. Sir Ratcliffe's brand of sardonic good looks held no attraction for her.

His manner in the witness box was firm but modest, his appearance was impeccable. Both Mr Dilley and Inspector Walker separately agreed on that. He affected a tone of pleasant, if slightly wounded, manliness. Asked at one point why he had signed the incriminating document if he were innocent, he looked straight at the judge and then at the jury and said in a melancholy voice, ‘I consented only because it was put to me that His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales's reputation would be blown upon if it were revealed that he had been a banker at a notorious game of cards such as baccarat. As a loyal officer of the Crown, both in the military and in Parliament, I thought that it was only proper to sacrifice myself to save his good name.'

‘In that case,' said Sir Halbert smartly, as though the idea had just occurred to him, ‘why did you bring this action, and subpoena the Prince of Wales into the bargain, thus
ensuring the utmost publicity for his participation in a game of chance involving the wagering of money?'

Sir Ratcliffe looked so impossibly noble at this point that Cobie almost disgraced himself by laughing aloud. Several of the jurors, however, gave ‘the worthy baronet' a sympathetic smile when he replied, ‘Because I had been assured that were I to sign the paper admitting my guilt and undertaking not to play cards again, the matter would go no further, so that my reputation, as well as the Prince's, would be preserved.

‘Imagine my horror when I discovered that, owing to the actions of one of the co-defendants, Mr Jacobus Grant, the matter was the talk of London, and I was being cut right, left and centre. Worse, my place in the Government was at stake. I had to act to save my name.'

Sir Darcy Spenlow leapt to his feet. ‘M'lud,' he addressed the judge. ‘I ask that the accusation against Mr Grant be stricken from the record. At this stage it is mere gossip, unproven.'

The judge nodded. ‘Instruct your client, Sir Halbert,' he said severely, ‘to restrict his answers to you to the bare facts of which you ask him.'

‘Indeed, m'lud. You will allow me to proceed?'

‘With that proviso.'

‘Tell me, Sir Ratcliffe, what were the values of the counters with which you were playing?'

‘They ranged from five shillings to ten pounds.'

Sir Halbert turned so that he was facing the jury. ‘Five shillings to ten pounds,' he repeated solemnly. ‘That being so, then the amount which you would gain from cheating would be negligible, given your own wealth, that is.'

‘That is true, sir.'

‘So, if a player were to be cheating, he would be risking his reputation for nothing?'

‘Exactly so. The game would not be worth the candle. You may thus understand my incredulity when I was accused of such a pointless manoeuvre.'

Several of the jurors nodded agreement with him. Had a verdict been called for at this point there was no doubt in whose favour it would have gone.

It had to be admitted, Dinah thought, that Sir Ratcliffe acquitted himself well in the witness box. He explained his system of betting in a clear voice, saying, Yes, he pushed his counters on and off the cards as he betted on them, but he had never moved them after the game had ended in order to increase, or decrease, his stake.

After that there were few fireworks. The theft of the diamonds was mentioned. Sir Ratcliffe submitted that distress at their loss might have made him
distrait
when playing cards to the degree that his normal behaviour was affected, and that might have brought the false accusation down on him.

At the very end, in reply to a direct question, ‘Did you, Sir Ratcliffe Heneage, cheat at baccarat at Markendale on the night in question, or on any other night?' he said in a loud and firm voice, glaring this time, not at the judge or the jury, but at Cobie, who was still impassive, ‘No, I did not.'

‘Is there any truth in the accusations against you?'

‘None,' and then, he felt compelled to embroider. ‘I believe that they were fabricated by the same person who spread the story about London of what had happened at Markendale.'

‘Were you not at the end of your examination, Sir Halbert,' said the judge, again severe, ‘I would ask you to restrain your principal when he is in the witness box. I would remind him to be circumspect in his answers during cross-
examination. The hour being late, we shall adjourn until tomorrow.'

The overall impression which Sir Ratcliffe had given was a favourable one, and there seemed little doubt that he had the jury on his side—if not the judge. Sir Halbert, it was later whispered, had even hoped that the defendants might withdraw at this point, believing their case to be hopeless.

Dinah said to Cobie when they reached home, ‘I cannot imagine that this action can last very long or, that in the long run, there can be any doubt as to Sir Ratcliffe's guilt, however clever he was in the witness box.'

‘You may be sure,' said Cobie with his most cynical smile, ‘that the lawyers will be capable of keeping this going for as long they can—that is how they earn their fees. As to Sir Ratcliffe having no case, I think that you might be surprised how convincing he and his counsel seemed to the jury. I hear that Sir Halbert is convinced of his client's innocence, and genuinely believes that the four of us conspired together to blacken him to the Prince.'

Dinah shivered. ‘I'm worried,' she murmured, ‘for you and the others. Particularly for you. Do you think that they will start to ask questions about the theft of the Heneage diamonds?'

Cobie shook his head. ‘Irrelevant. Don't lose any sleep over it, my love.'

But she did, inevitably, and more than ever she wished that she felt able to tell him of their coming child.

What Cobie didn't say to her was what Walker had warned him of: that Sir Halbert might spring a real surprise when it came to cross-examining the American Dollar Prince whom Sir Ratcliffe Heneage was sure was the prime architect of his ruin.

The next morning all the society ladies were wearing new
toilettes
. Dinah looked particularly charming and several of
the jurymen privately agreed with Cobie that no villain could have such an innocent young wife. One of the ushers had admiringly pointed her out to them.

Sir Darcy immediately began to cross-examine Sir Ratcliffe ruthlessly. Try as he might, though, he could not shake him. Indeed the harder he tried, the greater the resentment he was beginning to arouse both in those spectators who weren't at Markendale, and in the breasts of some of the jury who were beginning to think that he truly was the victim of a conspiracy.