The Luminaries

door, and ascended the servants’ staircase at the back. I waited until Anna went down to luncheon, and then I slipped into her room, and found the resin, and all her apparatus, in her drawer. But then I got trapped—someone struck up a conversation in the hallway, just outside the door—and I couldn’t leave. And then Anna came back from lunch, and I heard her coming, and I panicked again, so I hid behind the drapes.’
    ‘The drapes?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Staines. ‘That’s where I was hiding, when I took the bullet from Anna’s gun.’
    Broham’s face was growing red. ‘How long did you remain hidden behind the drapes?’
    ‘Hours,’ said Staines. ‘If I were to guess, I’d say from about twelve until about three. But that is an estimation.’
    ‘Did Miss Wetherell know that you were in her room on that day?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘What about Mr. Gascoigne—or Mr. Pritchard?’
    ‘No,’ said Staines again. ‘I kept very quiet, and stood very still. I’m certain that none of them knew that I was there.’
    Fellowes was whispering intently in Harrington’s ear.
    ‘What happened when you were shot?’ said Broham.
    ‘I kept quiet,’ said Staines again.
    ‘You kept quiet?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Mr. Staines,’ said Broham, in a voice that pretended to scold him. ‘Do you mean to tell this courtroom that you were shot, quite without warning and at a very close range, and you did not cry out, or move, or make any noise at all that might have alerted any one of the
three witnesses
to your presence?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Staines.
    ‘How on earth did you not cry out?’
    ‘I didn’t want to give up the resin,’ said Staines.
    Broham studied him; in the ensuing pause, Harrington passed him a piece of paper, which Broham scanned briefly, then looked up, and said, ‘Do you think it possible, Mr. Staines, that Miss Wetherell might have
known
that you were present, upon the afternoon of the twenty-seventh of January, and that she might have fired her pistol
deliberately
in the direction of the drapes with the
express purpose
of causing you harm?’
    ‘No,’ said Staines. ‘I do not think it possible.’
    The courtroom had become very still.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because I trust her,’ said Staines.
    ‘I am asking if you think it possible,’ said Broham, ‘not if you think it probable.’
    ‘I understand the question. My answer is unchanged.’
    ‘What induced you to place your trust in Miss Wetherell?’
    ‘Trust cannot be
induced
,’ he burst out. ‘It can only be given—and given freely! How am I possibly to answer that?’
    ‘I will simplify my question,’ the lawyer said. ‘Why do you trust Miss Wetherell?’
    ‘I trust her because I love her,’ said Staines.
    ‘And how did you come to love her?’
    ‘By trusting her, of course!’
    ‘You make a circular defence.’
    ‘Yes,’ the boy cried, ‘because I must! True feeling is always circular —either circular, or paradoxical—simply because its cause and its expression are two halves of the very same thing! Love cannot be reduced to a catalogue of reasons why, and a catalogue of reasons cannot be put together into love. Any man who disagrees with me has never been in love—not truly.’
    A perfect silence followed this remark. From the far corner of the courtroom there came a low whistle, and, in response to it, smothered laughter.
    Broham was plainly irritated. ‘You will forgive me for remarking, Mr. Staines, that it is rather unusual to steal opiates from the person one professes to love.’
    ‘I know it’s very bad,’ Staines said. ‘I’m very ashamed of what I did.’
    ‘Can anyone confirm your movements over the past two months?’
    ‘Ah Sook can vouch for me.’
    ‘Mr. Sook is deceased. Anyone else?’
    Staines thought for a moment, and then shook his head. ‘I can’t think of anybody else.’
    ‘I have no further questions,’ said Broham, curtly. ‘Thank you, Mr. Justice.’
    ‘Your witness, Mr. Moody,’ said the justice.
    Moody thanked him also. He spent a moment putting his notes in order, and waiting for the whispering in the room to subside, before he said, ‘You have testified that your opinion of Mr. Carver is a poor one, Mr. Staines. What caused this poor opinion?’
    ‘He assaulted Anna,’ said Staines. ‘He beat her—in cold blood—and she was carrying a child. The child was killed.’
    The courtroom was quiet at once.
    ‘When did this assault take place?’ said Moody.
    ‘On the afternoon of