Free A Certain Justice by P. D. James Page A

had made his disapproval of the majority verdict only too apparent — and made tedious by a prosecuting counsel who could never believe that a jury could take in any fact that hadn’t been explained to them three times.
    And now Brian Cartwright was at her shoulder and scurrying beside her down the corridor with the bumbling persistence of an over-affectionate dog, euphoric with a victory which even with his optimism he had hardly dared to expect. Above the crisply laundered collar, the carefully knotted old school tie, the large pores of his strong red face oozed sweat as greasy as ointment.
    “Well, we did for those buggers! Good work, Miss Aldridge. I did all right in the box, didn’t I?”
    He, the most arrogant of men, was suddenly like a child avid for her approval.
    “You managed to answer questions without betraying your strong dislike of the anti-blood-sports lobby, yes. We won because there was no clear evidence that it was your whip which blinded young Mills, and because Michael Tewley was seen as an unreliable witness.”
    “Unreliable he bloody well was! And Mills was only blinded in one eye. I’m sorry for the lad, of course I am. But these people are keen enough to attack others and then scream when they get hurt themselves. Tewley hates my guts. There was animus, you said so yourself, and the jury agreed. Animus. Those letters to the press. The telephone calls. You proved that he was out to get me. You tied him up properly, and I liked that last bit, when you were making the speech for the defence. ‘If my client has such an ungovernable temper, such a reputation for unprovoked violence, you may find it surprising, members of the jury, that at the age of fifty-five he has never had a criminal conviction.’ ”
    She began moving away, but he was at her shoulder. Venetia thought she could smell his triumph.
    “I don’t think we need re-fight the case, Mr. Cartwright.”
    “You didn’t say that I’d never before appeared in a court of law, though, did you?”
    “That would have been a lie. Counsel don’t lie to the court.”
    “But they can be economical with the truth, can’t they? Not guilty, then, this time and not guilty the last time. Lucky for me. It wouldn’t have been a good thing to come before the court with form. I don’t suppose the jury noticed the actual words you used.” He laughed. “Or didn’t use.”
    She thought, but did not say: The judge did. So did prosecuting counsel.
    As if he had read her mind, he went on: “They couldn’t say anything, though, could they? I was found not guilty.” He lowered his voice and glanced round at the almost empty hall. He paused. “You remember what I told you about the last time, how I got off?”
    “I remember, Mr. Cartwright.”
    “I haven’t told another soul but I thought you’d like to know. Knowledge is power.”
    “Some knowledge is dangerous. I hope in your own interest that you’ll keep this particular knowledge to yourself. You’ll get my fee-note in due course. I don’t need additional payment in the form of private information.”
    But the piggy bloodshot eyes were sharp. He was a fool about some things but not about everything. He said: “You’re interested, though. Thought you might be. After all, Costello’s in your Chambers. And don’t worry. I’ve kept it to myself for four years. I’m not a blabbermouth. You don’t get to build up a successful business if you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut. Hardly the sort of thing I’d sell to the Sunday tabloids, is it? Not that they’d ever get proof. I paid well the last time and I don’t mind paying well for this. I said to the lady wife, ‘I’m getting the best criminal lawyer in London. I’ll pay what it takes. Never economize on necessities. We’ll see these bastards off.’ Urban vermin, that’s what they are. They haven’t got the guts to ride a seaside donkey. I’d like to put them up on a hunter. They don’t know anything about the