I am not the law, but I represent justice so far as my feeble powers go. -- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes

"So you see," Mr. Altounian finished, "I killed Gwladys to save Alec. Dzovig killed Çelik Bey for revenge. What we did was wrong, but justified. We would never have done it if they hadn't driven us to it."

Silence fell. Phil looked around the room. Yo-han's face was blank. Vi and Máté looked as if they couldn't believe what they'd just heard. Lennox was staring at Altounian with a mixture of grief and something she couldn't place. Altounian refused to look at anyone. He stared at the carpet and kept his grip on Lennox's hand.

Yo-han had been leaning against the mantelpiece during the story. Now he straightened up. He looked at Máté, Vi and Phil in turn.

"And there we have it," he said. "There are only two options now. One, I tell the police everything. Mr. Eames — I beg your pardon, Mr. Altounian — will be hanged for murder. Perhaps certain other facts will remain hidden, or perhaps Mr. Lennox will be arrested for sodomy. Either way his reputation will be destroyed."

Phil looked thoughtfully at Altounian and Lennox. Now she recognised that something she hadn't been able to place. It was in the way Altounian clutched Lennox's hand like a lifeline, the way Lennox leant towards him, the way he never took his eyes off Altounian's face.

She had never realised how similar she and Lennox were until now.

What did you do when you learnt someone you loved had murdered someone you hated? How could you make yourself hate them? Could you ever forgive them? Could you ever stop loving them?

Leopold was worse than Davit. He had known from very early in their acquaintance that he was going to kill her aunt. He had befriended her anyway. In a way she was worse than Alexander, because she had fallen in love with Leo after the murder.

If Leo appeared on her doorstep one day, what would she do? How could she tell him to go to hell when she never wanted him to leave her again?

Phil looked at Lennox, and she understood exactly the turmoil going on in his mind. They were both people who loved not wisely but too well.

Yo-han had stayed silent for a while, allowing his last sentence to sink in. Now he continued. "Then there is the other option. I lie to the police. I tell them Çelik Bey's father is a politician and his enemies murdered his son. Mrs. Lennox was killed to stop her identifying them. And a murderer goes unpunished."

Altounian laughed, shrill and piercing. "Unpunished? My god! I see her blood everywhere. I can still hear her skull breaking. When I close my eyes I see her face all covered with blood. I can smell it, I can practically taste it, sometimes I think I still see it on my hands, my clothes. Hanging can't be worse than this."

He really didn't look well. He was pale and trembling. After observing Altounian for a minute Phil agreed; he certainly was being punished. Considering what Mrs. Lennox had been like, she thought he was being punished enough.

Lennox pulled his hand free, but only to put one arm around Altounian's waist and the other around his shoulders. He pulled him close.

"So," Yo-han said. "We will vote on it."

"Not me," Lennox said. It was the first time he'd spoken since... had he spoken at all? Phil couldn't remember. His voice was quiet and it sounded like he was trying not to cry. "I can't vote. I suspected, but I hoped— I can only say that if you give Davit up, I will go to the police and tell them I planned the murders."

Altounian's head snapped round. He stared at Lennox as if he was out of his mind. "They'd hang you too!"

"That would be better than living without you."

Yo-han raised his eyebrows. He shrugged, then looked around at Phil, Vi and Máté. "You three be the jury. Consider everything we've heard. If two of you find him guilty, I'll tell the police the truth."

Surprisingly it was Máté who spoke first. "I find him guilty of manslaughter. Not murder."

Vi hesitated before giving her verdict. "Well... I suppose he is guilty of murder... But remember that case last year? Where a woman shot her husband and his mistress? The jury said she wasn't guilty. I think it's similar here. I say not guilty."

Yo-han nodded. He looked at Phil. "You have the deciding vote, Miss Patton."

Lennox looked Phil in the eye. She knew at once he was deadly serious about giving himself up. If she condemned Altounian, she would kill Lennox too. And maybe she wasn't as obsessively devoted to Leo, not to the point of suicide, but she could understand.

"Not guilty," she said.

Altounian slumped against Lennox. He buried his head in the crook of Lennox's neck. Lennox clung to him as if he was afraid they'd try to pull him away.

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Phil and Máté sat in silence after Lennox and Altounian left. Vi checked on Johnny, then returned to the living room. Yo-han set off for the police station.

After a while Vi helped herself to one of the sandwiches. Phil had completely forgotten about them. She didn't think she could bear to eat.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Máté asked.

"I don't think there was a right thing to do here," Vi said.

Phil thought of Leo again and said nothing.

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Lennox House had always been dark. Alec's earliest memories of it were of echoey, gloomy rooms that seemed to resent his presence. Gwladys had just made it worse. She had redecorated it according to her tastes, and turned whole rooms into modern-art monstrosities that made Alec's head ache.

As he closed and locked the door to his study, it dawned on him that he had no good memories at all of living in Lennox House.

His childhood had been normal, which meant that his parents had left him with his nanny for the first years of his life and barely remembered his existence. His mother preferred his sisters. His father wanted a son who enjoyed hunting and drinking and ogling women. He was disgusted to find that instead he had a son who hated hurting any living creature, couldn't stand the taste of alcohol, and had no interest in women.

Alec honestly couldn't say that his time at Eton had been any better. He had come to certain realisations about himself there, and had begun a relationship with his roommate, but that had ended when they realised they had nothing in common.

That, and the scandal around the near-breakdown of his parents' marriage, had sent him to religion in search of something stable when his life seemed to be built on sand. Even there he was disappointed. He prayed and attended church and read the Bible so often he'd memorised most of it, and he still couldn't reconcile himself with its teachings. He couldn't ask any pastor for advice; if he gave away too much the pastor would at best tell him to get out and at worst report him to the police.

All these books... Alec traced his finger over the titles of the ones on the nearest shelf. Everyone thought he was working on the encyclopaedia out of religious zeal. The truth was quite different.

Maybe somewhere in other people's writings and other people's lives, he would find something to help him. He couldn't be the only person ever in this situation.

So far he'd found nothing.

Then there was Davit. Beautiful, wonderful Davit. The best part of Alec's life. He hadn't believed in love at first sight until that evening in Cambridge. He still could hardly believe that out of all the men in the world, Davit chose him.

Davit, who had sought out his company and wanted to hear what he had to say. Davit, who had stayed with him through everything.

Davit, who had murdered Gwladys.

From the minute he'd heard of the murders, Alec had a terrible feeling he knew who was responsible. Was it better or worse that Davit had acted out of love? That he'd wanted to protect Alec?

He had succeeded. If Gwladys had lived, Alec knew he would have died soon. Either he would have been driven to another suicide attempt or she would have killed him. Did that count as self-defence?

He already had a list of Bible verses that he had to ignore. He hadn't expected to add "Thou shalt not kill" to that list.

Alec sat down at his desk. His most recent work confronted him: a half-finished page on Jeremiah 18.

...Thus saith the LORD, Behold, I frame evil against you, and devise a device against you: return ye now every one from his evil way, and make your ways and your doings good. And they said, There is no hope: but we will walk after our own devices, and we will every one do the imagination of his evil heart.[1]

Alec stared at those words. He had always refused the temptation to be superstitious. Taking Bible verses out of context and attempting to apply them to his life would require distorting the text beyond recognition. But right now, with the events of yesterday and today weighing down on him, taking it as a message was almost a comfort.

But a message for who? Gwladys, who had walked after her own devices and had evil framed against her? Or a warning to Alec?

He felt like he was standing on a precipice, and the ground was crumbling under his feet. Morality, religion and law all demanded he cut ties with Davit. It would be easier to cut out his own heart.

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Davit went straight to his room after they returned home. Alec hadn't said a word to him on the journey. He didn't try to stop him.

When he had planned to murder Gwladys he had never considered two things: actually committing the murder, and what happened after. He hadn't thought about how it felt to kill someone. He hadn't thought how Alec would react if he found out.

Davit threw himself down on the bed and cried himself to sleep.

He woke slowly. His head rested on something warm. Someone was stroking his hair. For a confusing moment he thought he was a child again and his mother was comforting him after a nightmare.

Two realisations struck him in quick succession.

One, his head was resting on someone's chest.

Two, his head was resting on Alec's chest.

Davit started up, then stopped. He met Alec's eyes. It was evening and the sun had set, so the remaining light gave everything a blue hue. Even so, he could tell that Alec wasn't looking at him with anger or disgust. Quite the opposite.

"I've been thinking," Alec said calmly.

Davit lay down again. He didn't think he could bear to look Alec in the face for this conversation. He laid his head on Alec's chest and listened to his heartbeat. Alec resumed stroking his hair. It was... nice. Gentle. Not at all what he should do to someone he knew was a murderer.

What was going on here? Maybe Alec could forgive him, but Davit couldn't imagine him being willing to resume their relationship.

Alec continued, "You of all people know how much I hated Gwladys."

That was an odd beginning. Davit waited to hear where this was going.

"She blackmailed me, she tormented me, she... Well, you know all about it. It sounds horrible but I'm glad she's dead. I can't even say I'm sorry she was murdered. All I regret is that you killed her."

Davit tensed. Now for it: some variation on I want you to leave.

Alec's breath hitched. Davit felt his heartbeat speed up. "Davit, do you understand? I'm sorry you killed her because... I don't know how to say it. I'm sorry for the effect it's had on you. If I could change the past I would stop you killing her to save you, not her."

Were his ears playing tricks on him? Was Alec, Alec of all people, really saying what it sounded like he was saying?

"But how can you..." Davit trailed off. He tried again. "Murder is illegal. And forbidden in the Bible."

"I know." Alec's hand stilled. His fingers were still twined in Davit's hair. He was silent for a while. Davit waited with bated breath. He told himself not to hope, but hoped anyway. "I don't think this counts as murder. She would have killed me. That makes it... different."

"Can you forgive me?" Davit whispered.

"I have nothing to forgive, and Gwladys isn't here. We can travel. Go to Armenia, like you wanted to. Forget her. Forget all of this. And... recover. From what she did to both of us."

Davit raised his head. He stared Alec in the eye. Even in the fading light he could see that Alec, impossible though it seemed, meant what he said.

"All right," he said.

Alec smiled at him. Davit smiled back. For the first time in months he began to think everything really would be all right.

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Vi was brushing her hair when she heard the knock. "Come in!" she called.

She expected the cook or housekeeper. It was a surprise to see Phil in the doorway instead. Phil had never bothered to knock before. Nor had she ever hovered at the door, looking so unsure.

"What's wrong?" Vi asked, her thoughts immediately flying to the murder case.

"Nothing!" Phil said, much too defensively. "It's just... I was wondering..." She paused and became very interested in the wallpaper. "You know so many actors. I was wondering if you could... find out where Leopold Colman is? And how I could contact him?"

Vi opened her mouth. Then she closed it again. She stared very hard at Phil. Phil firmly refused to look at her.

"This is a terrible idea," Vi warned.

Of course she knew about Phil's ridiculous crush. How could she not, when her sister kept every newspaper clipping she could find that mentioned Colman? It was one thing to fall in love with the worst possible candidate. It was quite another to invite him back into their lives.

Phil nodded. "Probably. But I want to write to him anyway."