A third witness recited instances that were capable of unflattering interpretation, making Pitt seem both arrogant and prejudiced. His early years were described unkindly.

“He was the son of a gamekeeper, you say?” Gleave asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Pitt felt cold. He remembered Gerald Slaley, and he knew what was coming next, but he was powerless to prevent it. There was nothing he could do but sit still and endure it.

“That’s right. His father was deported for stealing,” Slaley agreed. “Always held a grudge against the gentry, if you ask me. Gone after us on purpose, made something of a crusade of it. Check his cases and you’ll see. That’s why he was promoted by the men who chose him: to prosecute where the powerful and well-to-do were concerned… where they thought it politic. And he never let them down.”

“Yes.” Gleave nodded sagely. “I too have been examining Mr. Pitt’s record.” He glanced at Juster, and back to Slaley again. “I’ve noticed how often he has specialized in cases where people of prominence are concerned. If my learned friend wishes to contest the issue, I can rehearse them easily enough.”

Juster shook his head. He knew better than to allow it. Too many of them had been notorious cases and might well be resented by members of the jury. One could not know who had been their friends, or men they admired.

Gleave was satisfied. He had painted Pitt as an ambitious and irresponsible man, motivated not by honor but by a long-held bitterness and hunger for revenge because his father had been convicted of a crime of which he still believed him innocent. That was one issue Juster could not retrieve.

The prosecution summed up.

The defense had the final word, again reminding the jurors that its case hung upon Pitt’s evidence.

The jury retired to consider their verdict.