William Monk 07 - Weighed in the Balance

justice?” She tilted her head a little to one side. It was quite definitely a question.
    “No,” he said.
    “Oh. You don’t believe I would do this for the love of justice?”
    “No, I don’t.”
    She sighed. “You are quite right; I would leave God or the devil to take care of it when it suited them.”
    “So why, madam?” he pressed. “You do it at very great risk to yourself. If you cannot defend your claim, you will be ruined, not only financially but socially. You may even face criminal charges. It is a very serious slander, and you have made it highly public.”
    “Well, there’s hardly any point in doing it privately!” she retorted, wide-eyed.
    “And what is the point in doing it at all?”
    “To oblige her to defend herself, of course. Is that not obvious?”
    “But it is you who have to defend yourself. You are the one accused.”
    “By the law, yes, but she is accused by me, and in order to appear innocent to the world, she will have to prove me a liar.”Her expression suggested that hers had been the most reasonable of acts, as should be plain enough to anyone.
    “No, she doesn’t,” he contradicted. “She simply has to prove that you have said these things about her and that they have damaged her. It is you who have the burden of proof as to whether they are true. If you leave any doubt, the case is hers. She does not have to prove them untrue.”
    “Not in law, Sir Oliver, but before the world, of course she does. Can you see her, or anyone, leaving court with the question still open?”
    “I confess it is unlikely, although it is possible. But she will almost certainly counter by attacking you, accusing you of motives of your own for having made the charge in the first place,” he warned. “You must be prepared for a very ugly battle which will become as personal to you as you have made it to her. Are you prepared for that?”
    She took a deep breath and straightened her thin shoulders.
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Why are you doing this, Countess?” He had to ask. It was bizarre and dangerous. She had a unique and reckless face, but she was not foolish. She might not know the law, but she certainly knew the ways of the world.
    Her face was suddenly totally serious, naked of all humor or contention.
    “Because she has used a man to his destruction, and that man, for all his folly and self-indulgence, should have been our king. I will not allow the world to see her as one of the great lovers, when she is an ambitious and greedy woman who loves herself before anyone, or anything, else. I hate hypocrisy. If you cannot believe I love justice, perhaps you can believe that?”
    “I can believe it, madam,” he said without hesitation. “So do I. And so, I profoundly believe, does the average British jury.” He meant that with a passion and total sincerity.
    “Then you will take my case?” she urged. It was a challenge,defying his safety, his correctness, his years of brilliant but always appropriate behavior.
    “I will.” He accepted without even hesitating. There was the moral point that if the case were to be tried in an English court, then for the reputation both of Gisela, if she was innocent, and, more precious to him, of the law, both sides must be represented by the best counsel possible. Otherwise the issue would never be settled in the public mind. Its ghost would arise again and again.
    There was a danger in it, certainly, but of the kind which quickened the blood and made one aware of the infinite value of life.
    Zorah had left her card with him. He called upon her in her London rooms the following afternoon, having sent a note in advance to inform her of his intention.
    She received him with an enthusiasm most well-bred ladies would have considered unbecoming. But he had long ago learned that people who are facing trial, civil or criminal, frequently wear their fear in ways that might lie outside their usual character. If one looked carefully, it was always a facet of something that was there, perhaps hidden in less stressful times. Fear was the most universal stripper of disguise and the self-protection of contrived attitudes.
    “Sir Oliver! I am delighted you have come,” she said immediately. “I took the liberty of asking Baron Stephan von Emden to join us. It will save having to send for him, and I am sure you have no time to waste. If you should wish to speak privately, I have another chamber where we may do so.” And she turned and led him through a