William Monk 08 - The Silent Cry

Rhys was still alive. Considering the height of his fall, he could easily be dead. It is not difficult to break a neck. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps it would be a merciful escape from a more prolonged and dreadful end.
    Was it even suicide, in hearing the full horror of his crime told from the victim’s view, her feelings of shame, humiliation, helplessness and pain? Was this the nearest Rhys could come to some kind of redemption?
    Was this Rathbone’s final failure, or perhaps the only thing he had truly done for him?
    Except that Rhys had not raped the woman. He had been playing cards with Lady Sandon. It was Leighton Duff who had first raped and then beaten her. Leighton Duff … and who?
    The uproar in the courtroom was overwhelming. People were shouting, trying to clear the way for a stretcher. Someone was screaming again and again, uselessly, hysterically. All around him people were pushing and shoving, trying to move one way or another.
    Bent over Rhys’s body, Hester, for one desperate moment, had the same thought that had passed through Rathbone’s mind … was this Rhys’s escape at last from the pain of body which afflicted him, and from the greater agony of mind whichhaunted even his sleep? Was this the only peace he could find in a world which had become one long nightmare?
    Then she touched him and knew he was still alive. She slid her hand under his head, feeling the thick hair. She felt the bone gently, exploring. There was no depression in the skull. She pulled her hand clear. There was no blood. His legs were twisted, but his spine was straight. As far as she could tell, he was concussed, but not fatally injured.
    Where was Corriden Wade? She looked up, peering around, and saw no one she recognized, but there was a huddle of people where the bench was overturned and someone was lying on the floor. Even Rathbone was beyond the crowd jostling beside and in front of her.
    Then she saw Monk and felt a surge of relief. He was elbowing his way forward, angry, white-faced. He was shouting at someone. A large man clenched his fist and seemed intent on making a fight of it. Someone else began pulling at him. Two more women were crying for no apparent reason.
    Monk finally forced his way through and knelt beside her.
    “Is he alive?” he asked.
    “Yes. But we’ve got to get him out of here,” she responded, hearing her voice sharp with fear.
    He looked down at Rhys, who was still completely insensible. “Thank God he can’t feel this,” he said quietly. “I’ve sent the warder for one of those long benches. We could carry him on that.”
    “We’ve got to get him to a hospital,” she said desperately. “He can’t stay in the cell. I don’t know how badly he’s hurt.”
    Monk opened his mouth as if to reply, then changed his mind. One of the warders had come downstairs from the dock and was pushing people aside to reach Rhys.
    “Poor devil,” he said laconically. “Best for ’im if ’e’d killed ’isself, but if ’en in’t, we’ll best do for ’im what we can. ’Ere, miss, let me get ’im up onter the bench wot Tom’s bringin’.”
    “We’ll take him to the nearest hospital,” she said, rising shakily and only just avoiding falling over her own skirts.
    “Sorry, miss, but we gotta take ’im back to ’is cell. ’E’s a prisoner …”
    “He’s hardly going to escape!” she said furiously, all her helplessness and pain welling up in useless anger for a moment. “He’s totally insensible, you fool! Look at him!”
    “Yes, miss,” the warder said stolidly. “But the law is the law. We’ll put ’im back in ’is cell, an’ yer can stay wif ’im, if yer don’ mind bein’ locked in wif ’im? No doubt they’ll send a doctor w’en they get one.”
    “Of course I’ll stay with him!” she choked out. “And fetch Dr. Wade, immediately!”
    “We’ll try, miss. Is there anyfink as yer want for ’im? Water, like, or a little brandy? I’m sure as I could get a little brandy for yer.”
    She controlled herself with an effort. The man was doing his best. “Thank you. Yes, get me both water and brandy, please.”
    The other warder appeared along with two more men carrying a wooden bench. With surprising gentleness they picked Rhys up and laid him on the bench, then carried it out of the courtroom, pushing past onlookers and out through the doors and down the hallway toward the cells.
    Hester followed, hardly aware of the people around her, of