Sins of the Fathers by Ruth Rendell Page A

he did so, Archery moved swiftly along the form until he was at her side. At the same time Sergeant Martin took half a dozen rapid strides towards her, glaring at the clergyman.
    "Now, madam, you'd far better come outside."
    She flung herself away from him, pulling the cape around her as if it were cold instead of suffocatingly hot.
    "You're not going to put my baby in gaol!" She pushed at the sergeant who stood between her and her view of the bench. "Get away from me, you dirty sadist!"
    "Take that woman outside," said the magistrate with icy calm. Mrs. Crilling spun round to face Archery and seized his hands. "You've got a kind face. Are you my friend?"
    Archery was horribly embarrassed. "You can ask for bail, I think," he muttered.
    The policewoman who stood by the dock came over to them. "Come along now, Mrs Crilling..."
    "Bail, I want bail! This gentleman is an old friend of mine and he says I can have bail. I want my rights for my baby!"
    "We really can't have this sort of thing." The magistrate cast an icy scornful look upon Archery who sat down, wrenching his hands from Mrs Crilling's. "Do I understand you wish to ask for bail?" He turned his eyes on Elizabeth who nodded defiantly.
    "A nice cup of tea, Mrs. Crilling," said the policewoman. "Come along now." She shepherded the demented woman out, her arm supporting her waist. The magistrate went into conference with the clerk and bail was granted to Elizabeth Crilling in her own recognisance of five hundred pounds and that of her mother for a similar sum.
    "Rise, please!" said the warrant officer. It was over.
    On the other side of the court Wexford shovelled his papers into his briefcase. "A friend in need, that one," he said to Burden, glancing in Archery's direction. "You mark my words, he'll have a job getting out of old Mother Crilling's clutches. Remember when we had to cart her off to the mental unit at Stowerton that time? You were her friend then. Tried to kiss you, didn't she?"
    "Don't remind me," said Burden.
    "Funny affair altogether last night, wasn't it? Him being on hand, I mean, to show that poor kid his way to heaven."
    "It was lucky."
    "I only remember that happening once before, except in the case of R.C.s, of course." He turned as Archery slipped between the wooden forms and came up to them. "Good morning, sir. I hope you slept well. I was just saying to the inspector, there was a fellow killed out Forby way soon after I came here. Must be all of twenty years. I've never forgotten it. He was just a kid too and got it in the neck from an army lorry. But he wasn't quiet, he was screaming. All about a girl and a kid it was." He paused. "Did you speak, sir? Sorry, I thought you did. He wanted a clergyman, too."
    "I hope and trust he got what he wanted."
    "Well, no he didn't as a matter of fact. He died—unshriven is the word, I think. The vicar's car broke down on the way. Funny, I've never forgotten it. Grace was his name, John Grace. Shall we go?"
    The Crillings had departed. As they came out into the sunshine, the policewoman came up to Wexford.
    "Mrs. Crilling left a note with me, sir. She asked me to give it to a Mr. Archery."
    "Take my advice," said Wexford. "Tear it up. She's as mad as a hatter." But Archery had already slit open the envelope.
Dear Sir,
    he read.
    They tell me that you are a man of God. Blessed is he that sitteth not in the seat of the scornful. God has sent you to me and my baby. I will be at home this afternoon, waiting to thank you in person.
    Your affectionate friend, Josephine Crilling
    Archery's bedroom combined charmingly the best of old and new. The ceiling was beamed, the walls painted pink and decorated with a tooled design of chevrons, but there was also a fitted carpet, an abundance of lights on walls and bedhead and a telephone. He rinsed his hands at the pink washbasin (a private bathroom he felt to be an unwarranted extravagance), lifted the receiver and asked for a call to Thringford in Essex.
    "Darling?"
    "Henry!