‘I swear, I was not!’
‘You were seen, Sir Montague. We have witnesses.’
‘Lies! Lies!’
‘When did you decide to kill William, was it before or after you sodomised him?’ Collingwood asked, pressing closer to Portman, determined to puncture his composure, pressing home whilst the banker was disorientated and flustered, the pervading sweat of fear thick and cloying about him.
‘How many more times must I say it? I did not murder the boy. I did not know the boy. I had never been to … that place before and I have never seen the boy. I was not with him when he died. Now, fetch me my lawyer, I insist.’
‘But you have visited The Grecian on previous occasions, Sir Montague, have you not?’
‘No, I told you. I was simply there to meet an acquaintance, had I known what sort of place it was; I would
