Robbie's Arrest

Robbie Turner's arrest at dawn on the morning after the Quincey twins' disappearance marks the decisive moment when Briony Tallis's false accusation becomes an irreversible legal fact, transforming a family crisis into a criminal prosecution that will send an innocent man to prison and shatter the lives of everyone involved.

The Arrest

At around five in the morning, word flashed through the Tallis household that a figure who might be Robbie was approaching across the park. The family, Paul Marshall, Betty and her helpers, and the policemen all gathered tightly around the front entrance to wait for him. It may have been that Emily Tallis did not want the polluting presence to step inside her house, or the inspector may have feared violence which was more easily dealt with outdoors where there was more space to make an arrest. All the magic of dawn had gone now, replaced by a gray early morning distinguished only by a summer's mist. At first they saw nothing, then everyone could hear the tread of shoes along the drive. As the shape took form, the waiting group fell silent. No one could quite believe what was emerging—an apparition as inhuman as it was purposeful, a giant seven or eight feet high heading their way. Betty, known to be a Catholic, crossed herself. The clue was a second, tiny shape that bobbed alongside the first: this was Robbie, with one boy sitting up on his shoulders and the other holding his hand and trailing a little behind. When he was less than thirty feet away, Robbie stopped and waited as the inspector and the other policemen approached. The boy on his shoulders appeared to be asleep; the other boy let his head loll against Robbie's waist and drew the man's hand across his chest for protection or warmth. Briony's immediate feeling was one of relief that the boys were safe, but as she looked at Robbie waiting calmly, she experienced a flash of outrage—did he believe he could conceal his crime behind an apparent kindness, behind this show of being the good shepherd? Emily's hands pressed firmly on Briony's shoulders, turning her toward the house and delivering her into Betty's care. Briony's last glimpse back over her shoulder showed Robbie raising two hands as though in surrender, lifting the boy clear of his head and placing him gently on the ground.

The Handcuffs and the Departure

An hour later, Briony was lying on her canopy bed when she heard the sound of the police car parked below her window starting up. She got up and parted the curtains. The mist was still there, but brighter, illuminated from within. All four doors of the police Humber were wide open, and three constables were waiting by it. The two inspectors emerged with Robbie between them—and handcuffed. Briony saw how his arms were forced in front of him, and from her vantage point she saw the silver glint of steel below his shirt cuff. The disgrace of it horrified her; it was further confirmation of his guilt and the beginning of his punishment, with the look of eternal damnation. They reached the car and stopped. Robbie half turned, but she could not read his expression. He stood erect, several inches higher than the inspector, with his head lifted up. One of the constables got in the driver's seat. The junior inspector walked round to the rear door on the far side and his chief was about to guide Robbie into the backseat. There was the sound of a commotion directly below Briony's window, and of Emily Tallis's voice calling sharply, and suddenly a figure was running toward the car as fast as was possible in a tight dress. Cecilia slowed as she approached. Robbie turned and took half a pace toward her and, surprisingly, the inspector stepped back. The handcuffs were in full view, but Robbie did not appear ashamed or even aware of them as he faced Cecilia and listened gravely to what she was saying. Though Cecilia was facing away from her, Briony thought she was speaking with very little animation. They moved closer, and now Robbie spoke briefly, and half raised his locked hands and let them fall. She touched them with her own, and fingered his lapel, and then gripped it and shook it gently. It seemed a kindly gesture, and Briony was touched by her sister's capacity for forgiveness. The kindly inspector with the granite face stepped forward to brush away Cecilia's hand and interpose himself. Robbie said something to her quickly over the officer's shoulder, and turned toward the car. Considerately, the inspector raised his own hand to Robbie's head and pressed down hard on it, so that he did not bang it as he stooped to climb into the backseat. The two inspectors wedged themselves on each side of their prisoner. The doors slammed, and the one constable left behind touched his helmet in salute as the car moved forward. Cecilia remained where she was, facing down the drive, tranquilly watching the car as it receded, but the tremors along the line of her shoulders confided she was crying, and Briony knew she had never loved her sister more than now.

Grace Turner's Protest

The car had gone no more than twenty yards when it began to slow. A figure Briony had not noticed was coming down the center of the drive and showed no intention of standing to one side. It was a woman, rather short, with a rolling walk, wearing a floral print dress and gripping what looked at first like a stick but was in fact a man's umbrella with a goose's head. The car stopped and the horn sounded as the woman came up and stood right against the radiator grille. It was Robbie's mother, Grace Turner. She raised the umbrella and shouted. The policeman in the front passenger seat got out and spoke to her, and then took her by the elbow. The other constable hurried over. Mrs. Turner shook her arm free, raised the umbrella again, this time with two hands, and brought it down, goose head first, with a crack like a pistol shot, onto the Humber's shiny bonnet. As the constables half pushed, half carried her to the edge of the drive, she began to shout a single word so loudly that Briony could hear it from her bedroom: "Liars! Liars! Liars!" With its front door wide open, the car moved past her slowly and stopped to let the policeman get back in. On his own, his colleague was having difficulty restraining her. She managed another swipe with her umbrella but the blow glanced off the car's roof. He wrestled the umbrella from her and tossed it over his shoulder onto the grass. "Liars! Liars!" Grace Turner shouted again, and took a few hopeless steps after the retreating car, and then stopped, hands on hips, to watch as it went over the first bridge, crossed the island and then the second bridge, and finally vanished into the whiteness.