Although Rollison heard no sound from her lips and no one else could possibly have heard, there was hushed silence in the Court, and everyone, from Nimmo down to the humblest usher, was staring at the woman.

CHAPTER THREE

The Charge

It seemed a long time before the silence and the stillness were broken by the magistrate, who shifted back in his carved oak chair and gave a deprecatory, almost apologetic, cough. The clerk to the Court came out of his spell, the men and women jammed tightly in the Press box and the public galleries relaxed and fidgeted. A faint hiss of sound came.

“THAT’S Rollison . . . Rollison . . . the Toff . . .”

A sturdy, youthful, puzzled chief inspector was approaching the witness-box. The clerk was reading out the charge.

“. . . did conspire together to advise certain persons to buy shares in a company known as Space Age Publishing, Limited, and did misappropriate the money so obtained . . .”

Rollison came out of a kind of coma. “She must have seen a photograph,” he muttered aloud. “She’s certainly never seen me.”

“Silence!” called an usher.

“Do the accused plead guilty or not guilty?” inquired Nimmo.

“Not guilty, your honour.”

“Not guilty,” whispered Mona Lister.

“Are they represented?” demanded Nimmo.

“No, your honour. I understand they wish to apply to the Court for legal aid.”

Someone at the back of the Court said clearly: “What a racket! She’s as wealthy as sin!”

“If there are any more interruptions I shall have the Court cleared,” threatened Nimmo. “Is there any evidence of means?” When neither the woman nor the girl spoke, Nimmo glanced towards the detective about to take the stand: “Can the police give us any information?” The man made no comment. “Very well, we shall hear the evidence of arrest and then consider the application for legal aid.”