William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea

do nothing. Her anguish was naked in her face. She cried out Bawtry’s name in a howl of despair, but it was hardly audible above the din, and no one listened to her or cared.
    Coniston looked like a lost child, searching this way and that for something familiar to hold on to.
    Pendock was still shouting for order. Gradually the noise subsided. Ushers had helped Bawtry out and stood guarding the doors. Hester eased Doulting into a seat at the back where people made ample room for him, sitting apart, as if his private hell were contagious.
    At last Pendock had restored some kind of sanity and was able to continue.
    “Sir Oliver!” Pendock said savagely. “Was that outburst contrived by you? Did you arrange for that … that appalling scene to take place?”
    “No, my lord. I had no idea that Dr. Doulting would know by sight the man who has dug his grave, so to speak.” That was something less than the truth. At the time he had arranged it with Hester, he had expected Doulting to reveal Barclay Herne as both the seller and an addict.
    Pendock started to speak again, and then changed his mind.
    “Have you anything further to ask of Mrs. Herne?” he said instead.
    “Yes, my lord, if you please,” Rathbone said humbly.
    “Proceed.” Pendock barely lifted his hand, but the gesture was unmistakable.
    “Thank you, my lord.” Rathbone turned to Amity, who was now looking as if she had heard the news of her own death. Her eyes were unfocused, her entire body sagging.
    It was all up to him now. He must make it plain to the jury. Reasonable doubt was no longer the verdict he sought; it was a clear and ringing “not guilty.” What happened to Bawtry was up to a different jurisdiction, and would perhaps only happen on the stage of public opinion. Dinah Lambourn’s life, and Joel Lambourn’s reputation, were Rathbone’s responsibility.And maybe he would also achieve some measure of justice for Zenia Gadney.
    “Mrs. Herne,” he began. The silence in court was absolute. “Mrs. Herne, you have heard the evidence making it seem highly likely that your brother, Joel Lambourn, was murdered by a woman he trusted, who arranged to meet with him on the night of his death? Together they walked up into Greenwich Park, he totally unsuspecting of any violence. On One Tree Hill they stopped. It is possible she somehow managed to inject him with a needle, but more likely she offered him a drink that was extremely heavily laced with opium. He became dizzy, then unconscious within a very short space of time. She then slit his wrists with a blade she had brought with her, leaving him to bleed to death alone in the dark.”
    Amity swayed in the witness box, gripping the rail to stop herself from falling.
    “It was suggested that this woman he trusted was his first wife, in law his only wife, known as Zenia Gadney,” Rathbone went on. “And that she did it because she was paid to by your husband.”
    “I know,” Amity whispered.
    Coniston half rose, then sat back again, his face pale, eyes wide in fascination.
    “Why would your husband do such a thing?” Rathbone asked.
    Amity did not answer.
    “To protect his superior, Sinden Bawtry?” Rathbone answered for her. “And of course his own supply of opium. He is addicted, isn’t he?”
    She did not speak, but nodded her head slightly.
    “Just so,” Rathbone agreed. “I can well believe that Bawtry asked this of him. Your husband is a weak and ambitious man, but he is not a murderer, either of your brother, or of Zenia Gadney.”
    Again there were cries from the gallery and Pendock restored order only with difficulty.
    “It was a woman who killed Dr. Lambourn,” Rathbone continued as soon as the noise had subsided. “But it was not poor Zenia. It was you, Mrs. Herne, because Bawtry asked your husband to do it, and he had not the nerve. But you had. In fact you would have the nerve to do anything at all for your lover, Sinden Bawtry!”
    Again the noise, the screams, catcalls, and gasps drowned him out.
    “Order!” Pendock shouted. “One more outburst and I shall clear the court!”
    This time silence returned within seconds.
    “Thank you, my lord,” Rathbone said politely. He turned to Amity again. “But Dinah would not let people believe Joel had killed himself. She would not let it rest, and you could not allow that. If she persisted, and cleared his name, then the opium bill would have to include making the sale of it in injectable form illegal—a crime,