William Monk 19 - Blind Justice

innocence, how he was misunderstood, misrepresented by lesser men envious of him …?”
    Brancaster nodded and smiled.
    “Yes, indeed,” Athlone picked up the thread. “Sir Oliver turned this witness against Wilton Jones. As I recall, he tripped him on a statement as to where he was at a particular time, and suddenly the witness changed his entire testimony. Instead of defending the accused, he condemned him. I believe Jones was found guilty and must still be in prison.” Athlone smiled, as though he were pleased to have been of use. “A brilliant piece of work,” he added.
    “Justice was served.” Brancaster apparently could not resist adding the point. Then he turned to offer the witness to Wystan.
    Wystan rose to his feet and all but swaggered out onto the floor before looking up at Athlone.
    “I don’t recall the case myself, Professor, but you have described it particularly well—with a little prompting from my learned friend. You say that this witness—rather like Mr. Drew, come to think of it—suddenly changed his testimony. Was there any reason for it that you are aware of?”
    Athlone looked slightly puzzled.
    Rathbone could see what was coming. His mind was completely numbed. He couldn’t remember the case. Even the name Wilton Jones meant nothing to him. It seemed as if his mind was paralyzed.
    “Professor?” Wystan prompted.
    “He did change his mind absolutely, as I recall,” Athlone agreed.“Because Rathbone caught him out during his testimony. If I have the right case, of course?” He made it a question.
    “Oh, I expect you do,” Wystan said, his tone lofty. To Rathbone, it seemed as if satisfaction oozed out of him. “You see, Sir Oliver did exactly the same thing recently, as a judge presiding over a case—he managed to change the sworn testimony of a witness, turning the verdict toward the side he personally had concluded to be right.” Wystan swung away from the witness stand, took a few steps, and then spun around again. “Professor, as the law is the subject upon which you are an expert—is it a judge’s task to decide whether the accused is guilty or innocent?”
    “Of course not,” Athlone replied with just the slightest edge to his voice. “That is the duty of the gentlemen of the jury. The judge’s task is to preside over the proceedings and make certain that all is conducted fairly and according to the law.”
    “Thank you, Professor. Now, if you please, tell us, how would counsel, or anyone else, make a witness suddenly recant his entire testimony—given under oath and therefore making him liable to charges of perjury—and then swear to the exact opposite?”
    Athlone shrugged. “Catching him in a lie, making him see an error, making him fear reprisal, bribery … there are several possibilities.”
    “Threat of ruin?” Wystan asked.
    Athlone sighed. “Of course.”
    Wystan smiled for the first time, so widely that he showed a flash of white teeth. “Thank you, Professor. You have been a perfect witness yourself.” He swiveled a little to Brancaster on a gesture of invitation.
    Oddly enough, in that moment Rathbone felt most deeply for his father, who had chosen Brancaster with such faith. The pain of it was almost unbearable; it was like a stone weighing hard and heavy inside him.
    Brancaster rose to his feet and looked up at Athlone. He took only a couple of steps out into the wide space of the floor. His body was rigid with tension.
    “Professor, you agree that threat of ruin is a possible motive for changing testimony, even if it might result in charges of perjury, am I correct?”
    “Yes,” Athlone agreed. “I imagine if the threat is serious enough, most of us would risk perjury.”
    “As, for example, if an outwardly respectable man, possibly a man with power, feared the exposure of his proclivity for performing obscene and criminal sexual acts with small children?”
    Athlone winced. “Of course. That would be extremely effective. And the more power the man in question possessed, the more effective such a threat of exposure would be.”
    “He would be likely to testify however you wished him to?” Brancaster pursued.
    Rathbone felt as if he were facing a firing squad. Whose pay was Brancaster in that he was doing this?
    “Certainly,” Athlone agreed.
    York looked satisfied, even pleased.
    Wystan resembled the cat who had eaten the canary.
    Brancaster shook his head. “What a terrifying thought. And of course the man who is the