Roger stood behind his desk.

“I’ve drawn four blanks today,” he observed. “But some days are like that.”

“When you can spare a minute,” Coppell said with heavy sarcasm, “you might tell me what cases went sour on you, and why. You can begin with Rapelli’s arrest. From where

I stand, it was bad enough to send Leeminster to arrest and charge him without being sure he was guilty, but why in hell you persisted in the charge, and then committed contempt of court with that crack about him and the witnesses I shall never understand.”

Roger said in a thin voice, “Won’t you, sir?”

“No. What the hell got into you?”

Very slowly and deliberately Roger pushed his swivel chair into position behind his desk and sat down. He had known what he was doing, and Coppell must realise that; to adopt this attitude was to condemn him before he had been heard. For a few moments he was too angry to speak, but losing his temper would serve no purpose. He looked straight into Coppell’s eyes, and schooled his voice to carry a tone of cool respect.

“I might understandably ask you the same question: what has got into you?”

As he spoke, he knew that it had been the wrong moment; that instead of pulling Coppell up sharply into a more reasonable mood it had put him high on his dignity. Out of the blue, as it were, another crisis was upon him; you didn’t force a quarrel with your superior if you wanted to concentrate on the job in hand. And Coppell had a lot of influence in high places, could present him favourably if he wished and nearly damn him if he chose to be malicious.

Just now, he looked as if he hated Roger, and he actually took a long step forward, as if to sweep the younger man aside.

Chapter Three

CONFLICT

Coppell paused.

That he was genuinely angry showed in the glitter in his eyes and the swarthy flush in his cheeks.