William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea

will contain, and anything in the way of letters or notes Dr. Lambourn may have offered ahead of his full report,” he answered.
    “Quite a lot,” Gladstone observed drily. “Do you really believe this woman is innocent?”
    “I do believe it,” Monk answered, sweat breaking out on his skin at the risk he was taking. What had he done to his own career if Dinah was guilty?
    Gladstone pondered for several moments. “That seems both remarkable, and very foolish. The bill will pass. It is necessary for thewelfare of the people that it should. I can have a summary of it delivered to you easily enough. Anything on Lambourn’s report may be more difficult, but I will do what I can.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Rathbone said warmly, then bit his lip and looked at Gladstone. “There is probably no more than one day left of prosecution evidence; then I will have to begin the defense. I can stretch that out for three or four days at best. Once the verdict is in—and at the moment there is hardly any doubt that they will convict her—then sentence of death will be passed and that may prove all but impossible to overturn.”
    He glanced at Monk, then back at the chancellor. “It is not only that an innocent woman will pay with her life for her loyalty to her husband, but the Pharmacy Act may be delayed, or diluted in its efficacy. No one can measure how many people will die unnecessarily if that were to happen, perhaps most of them children.”
    Gladstone’s face was tight and grim. He was clearly laboring under some great emotion. He did not look at them when he spoke, but into some place in the depth of his own memory.
    “It is to our shame that we have many stains in our history, gentlemen, but one of the most shameful episodes in all of our nation’s long life is that of the Opium Wars. There have been glorious times of courage and honor, intellectual genius and Christian humanity. The wars embody the opposite: greed, dishonor, and barbarous cruelty. Britain is addicted to tea, which at the time of those conflicts we could buy only from China. We are also very fond of porcelain, and of silk, similarly purchased largely from China. The only currency they will accept in exchange is silver bullion, of which we have very little.”
    Rathbone glanced across at Monk, but neither of them interrupted.
    Gladstone’s voice was edged with shame when he continued. “We responded with arguments and pleas, and when those failed to influence the Chinese, we began to sell them opium from India. They may have begun to use it for the relief of pain, but that swiftly changed to smoking it for pleasure. I have not the time, or desire, to spell out the progress of that abomination for you, but within a few years tens of thousands of Chinese became so addicted to it that they were incapable of work, or even of sustaining themselves or their families.
    “We brought in ever more, smuggled it in, despite every effort on the part of the Chinese government to prevent the trade. Finally we poisoned a nation and reduced much of it to a state of helplessness, even death. Of course, many of us choose to deny it. It is peculiarly powerful to acknowledge that your country has behaved with dishonor. There are many who believe it is patriotism to deny it, conceal it, even to lie and blame others. Men have been murdered to cover up less, and those who did it felt justified.” His voice was low and hoarse. “ ‘My family, my country—right or wrong.’ It is the ultimate betrayal of God.”
    Neither Monk nor Rathbone responded, not knowing how to. And the depth of Gladstone’s emotion seemed to make it not only unnecessary but intrusive.
    As if recalling himself to their presence he began again.
    “It might have started in our own minds as a reasonable trade. Indeed there are those who argue that had we not supplied the Chinese from India, then others would have done so. The French and the Americans are involved.”
    “Is that true?” Rathbone asked, then wished he had kept silent. He should not have interrupted the prime minister.
    Gladstone looked up at him momentarily. “Yes, but a specious argument. One man’s sin does not justify another’s.”
    “And the wars, sir?” Monk asked.
    “Against the Chinese, of course,” Gladstone replied. “They tried to reason with us to prevent us selling opium, with argument, trade tariffs, very little diplomacy. Even the emissaries of the queen were treated as if they were servants bringing