‘No, no. I was simply curious. And while you’re here, allow me to congratulate you both on the way you conducted your cases. I think you could fairly describe the result as a score draw.’
‘I don’t think my client sees it that way,’ said Booth Watson.
‘Perhaps he should have accepted my offer,’ said Palmer, draining his glass.
‘Dare I ask?’ said the judge.
‘The Crown would have dropped the charge of theft if he’d pleaded guilty to receiving.’
‘So the jury got it right,’ said Nourse, before taking another sip. ‘The other half, Adrian?’
‘Thank you, judge.’
‘And you, BW, are you sure I can’t tempt you?’
‘No thank you, Martin. I have a consultation with my client in a few minutes’ time, so I’d better be on my way.’
‘Yes of course, BW, see you on Tuesday morning.’
Booth Watson rose from his chair and turned to leave.
‘And perhaps you could let me know if your client hands over the Rubens to the Fitzmolean, as he said he would under oath,’ he paused, ‘before Tuesday.’
Booth Watson nodded, but didn’t comment.
Palmer took another sip of whisky and waited for the door to close before asking, ‘Did I just witness a subtle bit of arm twisting?’
‘Certainly not,’ said the judge, raising his glass. ‘I have already decided Mr Faulkner’s fate, although I confess that should he show the slightest sign of remorse, there is one concession I just might be willing to consider. But then, on the other hand, I might not.’
‘Why do you think he asked you that?’ said Faulkner.
‘Judges have been known to make concessions at the last moment, but only if they sense genuine remorse.’
‘How genuine?’
‘If you were to hand over the Rubens to the Fitzmolean before Tuesday, I have reason to believe his lordship might consider that a genuine act of contrition.’
‘And what could I expect in return?’
‘Nourse is far too shrewd to give anything more than the suggestion of a hint, but it’s in his power to decide between the maximum tariff for the offence, of four years, or the minimum, of six months. There’s even the possibility of a suspended sentence and a fine of ten thousand pounds – but it’s only a possibility, so don’t get your hopes up.’
‘As you know, BW, I don’t give a damn about the fine. But if I had to spend even six weeks in jail, heaven knows what havoc Christina could cause in my absence.’
‘Does that mean you are willing to donate the Rubens to the Fitzmolean?’
‘It means I’ll think about it.’
‘Before Tuesday.’
Arthur fell asleep at ten o’clock, which was slightly embarrassing for the rest of the family as they were all enjoying a celebratory dinner at San Lorenzo, his favourite restaurant, where he was welcomed as if he’d never been away.
‘Lights out at ten,’ he explained. ‘After nearly three years, it’s not an easy habit to break.’
‘What’s the first thing you’ll do when you wake up tomorrow morning?’ asked Grace.
‘At six o’clock,’ said Arthur.
‘Sausage, eggs, bacon and beans?’ suggested William.