William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother

and had a highly eccentric sense of humor. He was also inordinately fond of cats.
    The spectators’ seats were not as crowded as for a trial where the accused was a member of high society, or the victim a more colorful character than Angus Stonefield. There was no hint of sexual scandal, and apparently no money involved. And since there was no corpse, the question of murder was one of the issues yet to be proved. Those who had come were there largely to witness the duel between Rathbone and Goode to prove that very point. They were connoisseurs of the adversarial procedure.
    It was a fine, blustery day outside. Shafts of sunlight brightened the windows and shone in hazy beams across the wooden panels of the walls, the floor and the carvedpanoply of the judge’s seat. The jurors were ready, twelve carefully chosen men of solemnity, proven worthiness, and of course the appropriate qualifications of property ownership.
    Rathbone called his first witness, Genevieve Stonefield. There was only the mildest stir of anticipation as she crossed the court and climbed the steps to the witness-box. On Rathbone’s advice she was wearing not black, but a mixture of dark gray and navy. It was sober, unostentatious, and extremely flattering. She looked tired and strained, but the essential passion and intelligence in her face were heightened, and as she turned at the top of the steps and looked towards the room, there was a sudden rustle of interest. One man drew in his breath in surprise and a woman clicked her teeth.
    Rathbone smiled. Genevieve Stonefield was that sort of woman. She caused emotions, perhaps of envy, in the female members of the crowd, even if they did not quite know why. There was something in her yet to be awakened, something more elemental than in most women. He must handle it with the utmost care. Perhaps it was a fortunate thing a jury could only ever be composed of men.
    She was sworn in and gave her name and address, staring solemnly at Rathbone as if there were no one else present. Not once did her eyes stray to the judge or the jury, not even to the clerk who gave her the Bible.
    Rathbone rose to his feet and approached the high witness stand, but stopped some distance away so he did not have to crane his neck to see her. He began quietly.
    “Mrs. Stonefield, would you please tell the court all you can remember of events on the last day you saw your husband. Begin with your conversation at breakfast.”
    She took a deep breath, and her voice was almost steady when she replied.
    “There was nothing remarkable in the post,” she said. “A few letters from friends, an invitation—” She stopped and had to make a considerable effort to control herself. It wasnot visible, no tears or trembling, no groping for a handkerchief, just a long hesitation before she resumed. “It was to a musical evening, in three days’ time, which he said we should accept. It was a violin recital. He was particularly fond of the violin. He found its tones emotionally very stirring, in a way nothing else quite touched.”
    “So you wrote to accept?” Rathbone interrupted. “Believing he fully intended to be there?”
    “Yes.” She drew in her breath. “I never excused myself. They must think me most rude! It quite went out of my head.”
    “If they did not understand at the time, I am quite certain they will now,” he assured her. “Please continue.”
    “Angus received one or two household bills which he said he would attend to when he came home, then he left for his business. He said he would be home for dinner.”
    “Have you seen him since, Mrs. Stonefield?”
    Her voice was very quiet, almost a whisper. “No.”
    “Have you had any communication from him whatever?”
    “No.”
    Rathbone walked a pace to the left and shifted his weight a little. He was acutely aware of Ebenezer Goode leaning back in his chair, a slight smile on his face, his eyes bright and watchful. He was at ease, confident, but never so careless as to take anything for granted.
    In the dock, Caleb Stone stood motionless. His hair was long and thick and curled wildly, adding to the reckless look of his face with its wide mouth and brilliant green eyes. His very lack of movement drew the gaze in a room where everyone else fidgeted now and then, shifting position, scratching a nose or an ear, turning to look at someone or something, whispering to a neighbor. The only person who did not even glance his way was Genevieve, as if she could not