KNOX’S POV
“Yes, My King.” His voice cracks. “It was her. It was Ms Marjorie. I’ve known her my whole life, My King. My mum worked in the laundry here. I know what she looks like.”
“And you didn’t stop her.”
“I—” He swallows. “She’s the housekeeper, My King. I thought she’d been released. I thought somebody higher up had given the order and nobody told me. She looked right at me and kept walking as if she belonged there, and I thought if I grabbed Ms Marjorie and it turned out she’d been cleared, I’d be finished.”
“So you watched her go upstairs.”
“Yes, My King.”
“What about the cell?”
“Locked,” the older one says. “We checked again around half three. The door was locked; she was inside, looked asleep. That’s the part I can’t make sense of, My King. She was back in there.”
And ther
