He had waited years for his chance to get revenge for the frustration he had felt, for Pitt’s insubordination, for the flouting of rules Pitt had viewed as petty restrictions, for the cases Pitt had worked on without keeping his seniors informed. Pitt had been at fault. Even Pitt knew it now, when he had command of the station himself.

“Would arrogant be a fair word to describe him?” Gleave enquired.

“A very fair one,” Donaldson answered quickly.

“Opinionated!” Gleave went on.

Juster half rose, then changed his mind.

The foreman of the jury leaned forward, frowning.

Up in the dock, Adinett sat motionless.

“Another good one.” Donaldson nodded. “Always wanted to do things his own way, never mind the official way. Wanted all the glory for himself, and that was plain to see from the start.”

Gleave invited the witness to give examples of Pitt’s arrogance, ambition and flouting of the rules, and Donaldson obeyed with relish, until even Gleave decided he had had enough. He seemed a trifle reluctant to offer Donaldson to Juster, but he had no choice.

Juster took on his task with some satisfaction.

“You did not like Constable Pitt, did you, Mr. Donaldson?” he said ingenuously.

It would have been absurd for Donaldson to deny his feelings. Even he was sensible of that. He had shown them far too vividly.

“Can’t like a man who makes your job impossible,” he replied, the defensiveness sharp in his voice.

“Because he solved his cases in an unorthodox manner, at least at times?” Juster asked.

“Broke the rules,” Donaldson corrected.

“Made mistakes?” Juster stared very directly at him.

Donaldson flushed slightly. He knew Juster could trace the records easily enough, and probably had.

“Well, no more than most men.”

“Actually, less than most men,” Juster argued. “Do you know of any man, or woman, convicted on Mr. Pitt’s evidence, who was subsequently found to be innocent?”