The Luminaries

on that night, or on any other night?’
    ‘No. We never spoke about money.’
    ‘Never?’ said Broham, raising an eyebrow.
    ‘Mr. Broham,’ said the justice, tiredly.
    Broham inclined his head. ‘When did you first learn about Mr. Staines’s intentions, as described upon this deed of gift?’
    ‘On the morning of the twentieth of March,’ said Anna. She relaxed a little: this was a line she had memorised. ‘The gaol-house chaplain brought that paper to the Wayfarer’s Fortune to show me, and I took it straight to the Courthouse to find out what it might mean. I sat down with Mr. Fellowes, and he confirmed that the deed of gift was a legal document, and binding. He said that there might be something in it—that I might have a claim upon the fortune, I mean. Then he agreed to take the deed to the bank on my behalf.’
    ‘What happened after that?’
    ‘He said to meet back here at the Courthouse at five o’clock. So I came back at five, and we sat down as before. But then I fainted.’
    ‘What induced the faint?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Were you under the effects of any drug or spirit at that time?’
    ‘No,’ said Anna. ‘I was stone-cold sober.’
    ‘Can anyone vouch for your sobriety that day?’
    ‘The Reverend Devlin was with me in the morning,’ Anna said, ‘and I’d spent that afternoon with Mr. Clinch, at the Gridiron.’
    ‘In his report to the Magistrate, Governor Shepard described a strong smell of laudanum in the air at the time of your faint,’ Broham said.
    ‘Maybe he made a mistake,’ Anna said.
    ‘You have a dependency upon opiates, do you not?’
    ‘I haven’t smoked a pipe since before I moved in with Mrs. Wells,’ said Anna stoutly. ‘I gave it up when I went into mourning: the day I was released from gaol.’
    ‘Allow me to clarify: you attest that you have not touched opium, in any form, since your overdose upon the fourteenth of January?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘That’s right.’
    ‘And Mrs. Carver can vouch for this?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Can you tell the Court what happened on the afternoon of the twenth-seventh of January in the hours before Mrs. Carver’s arrival at the Gridiron Hotel?’
    ‘I was in my room, talking to Mr. Pritchard,’ Anna recited. ‘My pistol was in the front of my dress, like it always is. Mr. Gascoigne came into the room very suddenly, and I was startled, so I took out the pistol, and it misfired. None of us could figure out what went wrong. Mr. Gascoigne thought the piece might be broken, so he had me reload it, and then he fired it a second time into my pillow, to make sure that it was working correctly. Then he gave the piece back to me, and I put it back in my drawer, and that was the last I touched it.’
    ‘In other words, two shots were fired that afternoon.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘The second bullet lodged in your pillow,’ the lawyer said. ‘What happened to the first?’
    ‘It vanished,’ Anna said.
    ‘It vanished?’ said Broham, raising his eyebrows.
    ‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘It didn’t lodge anywhere.’
    ‘Was the window open, by any chance?’
    ‘No,’ Anna said. ‘It was raining. I don’t know where the cartridge went. None of us could figure it out.’
    ‘It just—vanished,’ said Broham.
    ‘That’s right,’ said Anna.
    Broham had no further questions. He sat down, smirking slightly, and the justice invited Moody to cross-examine.
    ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Moody. ‘Miss Wetherell, all three of today’s charges have been brought against you by Mr. George Shepard, governor of the Hokitika Gaol. Do you have a personal acquaintance with the man?’
    This was a conversation they had practised many times; Anna answered without hesitation. ‘None at all.’
    ‘And yet in addition to bringing the charges against you today, Governor Shepard has made numerous allegations about your sanity, has he not?’
    ‘Yes: he says that I am insane.’
    ‘Have you and Governor Shepard ever spoken at length?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Have you ever transacted business of any kind together?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘To your knowledge, does Governor Shepard have reason to bear ill-will towards you?’
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t done anything to him.’
    ‘I understand you share a mutual acquaintance, however,’ Moody said. ‘Is that correct?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘Ah Sook. A Chinaman. He ran the dragon den at Kaniere, and he was my very dear friend. He was shot dead on the twentieth of March—by Governor