Leeminster kept silent, leaving this to the court.

“No,” said Gunn, after a brief pause. “As it is a defence of alibi, the police will have every right to insist on a remand. When can you produce your witness, Chief Inspector?”

“I would hope within the week, sir, but I cannot say for certain until we have completed our enquiries.”

“And you still ask for a remand in custody?”

We do, sir.”

“On what grounds?”

“That the accused’s life could be in jeopardy, or alternatively that he could leave the country,” Leeminster stated.

Gunn did not speak immediately, but pursed his lips, leaned back in the beautifully carved oak chair and looked up at the intricately decorated ceiling. He was aware of the way everyone looked at him, knew that his decision would be as important to the police as to the accused and his lawyer. He, Charles Gunn, was suddenly and unexpectedly presented with a very difficult problem. He was quite sure that the police would not have asked for custody on any grounds unless they were convinced of the need, and the decision rested solely on him. With Farriman, stickler for the rule and regulation, breathing stertorously below him, West, the prisoner and this young woman staring at him intently, he felt very much on the spot.

Suddenly, he leaned forward.

“Mr. Farriman—”

Farriman climbed slowly, arthritis-bound, from his — chair, and his head and shoulders appeared over the front of the bench. He kept his voice low so that no one else could hear.

“Yes, your honour?”