Arthur & George

is no evidence that you committed this crime. There is no motive for you committing this crime. And there was no opportunity for you to commit this crime. I shall wrap it up a little for the judge and jury. But that will be the essence of my case.’
    ‘It is perhaps a pity,’ put in Mr Meek, ‘that we are in Court B.’ His tone punctured George’s temporary elation.
    ‘Why is that a pity?’
    ‘Court A is run by Lord Hatherton. Who at least has legal training.’
    ‘You mean I am to be judged by someone who doesn’t know the law?’
    Mr Vachell intervened. ‘Don’t alarm him, Mr Meek. I’ve been before both courts in my time. Who do we get in Court B?’
    ‘Sir Reginald Hardy.’
    Mr Vachell’s expression did not flicker. ‘Perfectly all right. In some ways I consider it an advantage not to be governed by some stickler who aspires to the High Court. You can get away with a little more. Not pulled up so often for meretricious demonstrations of procedural knowledge. On the whole, an advantage to the defence, I’d say.’
    George sensed that Mr Meek did not agree; but he was impressed by Mr Vachell, whether the barrister was being altogether sincere or not.
    ‘Gentlemen, I do have one request.’ Mr Meek and Mr Vachell briefly caught one another’s eye. ‘It is about my name. It is
Ay
dlji.
Ay
dlji. Mr Meek pronounces it more or less correctly, but I should have mentioned the matter earlier to you, Mr Vachell. The police, it seems to me, have always gone out of their way to ignore any correction I have offered them. Might I suggest that Mr Vachell makes an announcement at the beginning of the case as to how to pronounce my name. To tell that court that it is not Ee-
dal
-jee but
Ay
dlji.’
    The barrister gave the solicitor an instructing nod, and Mr Meek replied.
    ‘George, how can I best put this? Of course it’s your name, and of course Mr Vachell and I shall endeavour to pronounce it correctly. When we are here with you. But in court … in court … I think the argument would be: when in Rome. We would get off on the wrong foot with Sir Reginald Hardy if we made such an announcement. We are unlikely to succeed in giving pronunciation lessons to the police. And as for Mr Disturnal, I suspect he would greatly enjoy the confusion.’
    George looked at the two men. ‘I am not sure I follow you.’
    ‘What I’m saying, George, is that we should acknowledge the court’s right to decide a prisoner’s name. It’s not written down anywhere, but that’s more or less the fact of the matter. What you call mispronouncing, I would call … making you more English.’
    George took a breath. ‘And less Oriental?’
    ‘Less Oriental, yes, George.’
    ‘Then I would ask you both kindly to mispronounce my name on all occasions, so that I may get used to it.’
    The trial was set to begin on October 20th. On the 19th, four young boys playing near the Sidmouth plantation in Richmond Park came upon a body in an advanced state of decomposition. It proved to be that of Miss Sophie Frances Hickman, the lady doctor from the Royal Free Hospital. Like George, she had been in her late twenties. And, he reflected, she was only one column away.
    On the morning of October 20th, 1903, George was brought from Stafford Gaol to Shire Hall. He was taken to the basement and shown the holding cell where prisoners were usually placed. As a privilege, he would be allowed to occupy a large, low-ceilinged room with a deal table and a fireplace; here, under the eye of Constable Dubbs, he would be able to confer with Mr Meek. He sat at the table for twenty minutes while Dubbs, a muscular officer with a chin-strap beard and a gloomy air, firmly avoided his eye. Then, at a signal, George was led through dim, winding passages and past inadequate gas lamps to a door giving on to the foot of a narrow staircase. Dubbs gave him a gentle shove, and he climbed up towards light and noise. As he emerged into the view of Court B, noise became silence. George stood self-consciously in the dock, an actor propelled unwillingly on stage through a trapdoor.
    Then, before the Assistant Chairman Sir Reginald Hardy, two flanking magistrates, Captain Anson, the properly sworn members of an English jury, representatives of the Press, representatives of the public, and three members of his family, the indictment was read. George Ernest Thompson Edalji was charged with wounding a horse, the property of the Great Wyrley Colliery Company, on the 17th or