Free Farrier's Lane by Anne Perry Page A

afraid that is absolute nonsense,” Livesey said with a smile in answer to Pitt’s first remarks on the case. He leaned back in his great chair and regarded Pitt tolerantly. “Stafford was an intelligent and deeply responsible man. He was learned in the law, and he understood his duty towards it. A judge, particularly a judge of appeal, has a uniquely important position, Mr. Pitt.” His face was composed in an expression of quiet, profound confidence. “We are the last resort of the convicted to obtain mercy, or redress of a harsh or mistaken judgment. Similarly we are the final voice of the people in sealing a verdict forever. It is a monumental responsibility and we cannot afford error. Stafford was aware of that, as we all are.”
    He looked at Pitt with a growing smile touching his mouth. “I don’t know why people say that without the law we would be no better than savages. We would be far worse. Savages have laws, Mr. Pitt—usually very strict laws. Even they understand that no society can function without them. Without law we have anarchy, we have the devil stalking the earth, picking us off one by one, the weak and strong alike.” He pursed his lips. “We are all vulnerable at times. It is not only justice; in the end it is survival itself.”
    His steady eyes did not waver from Pitt’s face. “Without law, who will protect the mother and child who are tomorrow’s strength? Who will protect the geniuses of the mind, the inventor, the artist who enriches the world but has not the power of money or physical ability to defend himself? Who will protect the wise who are old, and might fall victim to the powerful and foolish? Indeed who will protect the strong from themselves?”
    “I have served the law all my adult life, Mr. Livesey,”Pitt replied, meeting his gaze. “You have no need to persuade me of its importance. Nor do I doubt Mr. Stafford’s service to it.”
    “I am sorry,” Livesey apologized. “I have not explained myself well. You are unfamiliar with the Godman case, which was unusually ugly. If you knew it as well as I, you would also be quite certain that it was dealt with justly and correctly at the time.” He shifted his massive weight a little in his chair. “There was no flaw in the verdict, and Stafford knew that as well as the rest of us. He was disturbed because Tamar Macaulay would not let the matter drop.” His face darkened. “A very foolish woman, unfortunately. Obsessed with the idea that her brother was not guilty, when it was plain to everyone else that he was. Indeed there was no other serious suspect.”
    “Not the friend …” Pitt had to stop to recollect his name. “O’Neil? Did he not quarrel with Blaine that evening?”
    “Devlin O’Neil?” Livesey’s eyes widened; they were an unusually clear blue for a man of his years. “Certainly they had a disagreement, but
quarrel
is too large a word for it. There was a difference over who had won or lost a trivial wager.” He waved a heavy, powerful hand, dismissing it. “The sum involved was only a few pounds, which either of them could well afford. It was not an issue over which a man murders his friend.”
    “How do you know?” Pitt asked, equally pleasantly.
    “I was one of the judges of appeal,” Livesey said with a slight frown. “Naturally I studied the evidence of the trial very closely.” Pitt’s question perplexed him; the answer seemed so obvious.
    Pitt smiled patiently. “I appreciate that, Mr. Livesey. I meant whose testimony do we have for it? O’Neil’s?”
    “Of course.”
    “Not proof of a great deal.”
    A shadow of darkness and surprise crossed Livesey’s face. Obviously he had not considered it in that light.
    “There was no cause to doubt him,” he said with a trace of irritation. “The difference of opinion was observed byothers, and told to the police when they investigated the murder. O’Neil was asked to explain it, which he did—to everyone’s satisfaction, except,