William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother

and descended the steps to the floor, her head always turned towards Caleb.
    Finally the gaolers overpowered him and he was led down. Some semblance of order was restored.
    Red-faced, the judge adjourned the court.
    Outside in the corridor Rathbone, considerably shaken, ran into Ebenezer Goode, looking shocked and unhappy.
    “Didn’t think you could do it, my dear fellow,” he said with a sigh. “But from the jury’s faces, I would wager now that you’ll get a conviction. Never had a client been so hell-bent on his own destruction.”
    Rathbone smiled, but it was a gesture of amiability, not of any pleasure. His victory would bring a professional satisfaction, but it was curiously devoid of personal triumph. He had thought Caleb Stone totally despicable. Now his feelings were less clear. The force of his instability, the awareness of his emotions in the room, even though he had not yet spoken, became tangled in his judgments, and he found himself awaiting his testimony with far less certainty of the outcome than Goode.
    Lord and Lady Ravensbrook were standing a few yards from them. She looked ashen, but determined not to give way. She was supported by her husband. Hester must have been temporarily dismissed, perhaps to summon the carriage.
    Ravensbrook did not hesitate to interrupt.
    “Goode! I must speak with you.”
    Goode turned politely, and then he saw Enid. His expression altered instantly to one of amazement and concern.Apparently he had not met her, but he surmised who she was.
    “My dear lady, you must still be far from recovered. Please permit me to find you some more comfortable place to wait.”
    Ravensbrook recognized his own omission with a flicker of anger, and introduced them hastily. Goode bowed, not taking his eyes from Enid’s face. In the circumstances the quality of his attention was a compliment, and she smiled, in spite of herself.
    “Thank you, Mr. Goode. I think I shall wait in my carriage. I am sure Miss Latterly will return in a few moments, and I shall be quite all right until then. It is very kind of you to think of it.”
    “Not at all,” he assured her. “We cannot permit you to stand, even until your carriage should come. I shall fetch a chair.” And so saying, he ignored Ravensbrook and Rathbone, marched some ten yards away, and returned carrying a large wooden chair, which he placed near the wall, and assisted Enid into it.
    The matter dealt with, Ravensbrook turned to Goode again, ignoring Rathbone, although he could not have failed to know who he was.
    “Is there any hope?” he said bluntly. His face was still stiff and blurred with shock.
    Rathbone moved a step away, in courtesy, although he was not beyond earshot.
    “Of finding the truth?” Goode raised his eyebrows. “I doubt it, my lord. Certainly not of proving it. I daresay what happened to Angus will always be a matter of surmise. If you mean what will the verdict be, at present I think a conviction of some sort is not unlikely, although whether it will be murder or manslaughter I would not venture to say.” He took a deep breath. “We must first hear Caleb’s story. That may now be different from earlier. He has heard evidence which may prompt him to speak more openly of the meeting with his brother.”
    “You intend to call him?” Ravensbrook’s body was rigid, his skin like paper. “Do you not fear he will damn himself out of his own mouth, if he has not already done so? I ask you in compassion not to. If you leave it as it is, plead a quarrel which got out of hand, on his behalf, then the jury may return manslaughter, or even less, perhaps only the conceding of a death.” Hope flickered boldly in his dark eyes. “That would surely be in the best interests of your client. He is quite apparently insane. Perhaps the only place for him is Bedlam.”
    Goode considered it for several moments. “Possibly,” he conceded, pulling down his brows, his voice very quiet. “But the jury is not well disposed towards him. His own behavior has seen to that. Bedlam is not a place I would send a dog. I think I must give him the opportunity to tell the story himself. There is always far less likelihood of the jury believing it if he will not tell it himself.”
    “Rathbone will destroy him!” Ravensbrook accused in a sudden flair of temper. “He will lose control of himself again if he is pressed, and he is frightened. Then he’ll say anything, simply to shock.”
    “I will make the judgment when I have