William Monk 19 - Blind Justice

that when Warne walked he did so with a slight limp. He had never mentioned, in the few times he and Rathbone had spoken, what had occurred to cause it, nor did he ever say whether it gave him any pain.
    He was sitting pensively, no indication in his face as to what he might be thinking.
    The dock where the accused sat between two jailers was raised above the rest of the room, and entered separately, from a stairway apart from the main court. The accused could see and hear all the proceedings, but was removed in a sense.
    Abel Taft sat there now, a calm, handsome man with magnificent hair. He looked patient rather than afraid. He might almost have been preparing for the room to come to order so he could begin his sermon. Was he a superb actor, or was he really so very confident that he wouldn’t be found guilty?
    Warne rose to his feet and began to address the court as to the nature of his case against the accused, and what he intended to prove. Rathbone looked at Taft’s wife sitting in the gallery behind Gavinton. Mrs. Taft was a pretty woman, but today she looked as if she kept hercomposure only with considerable difficulty. Her husband might not be afraid, but she most certainly was. Another woman, rather older, sat next to her, leaning a little toward her as if to offer comfort.
    Once, Blair Gavinton turned round and gave Mrs. Taft a reassuring glance. Rathbone could not see his face, but he could well imagine his expression. Hers softened into a hesitant smile, and Gavinton looked toward the front again, and listened to Warne, who now called his first witness.
    Mr. Knight was a very ordinary young man, rather overweight, and at that moment extremely nervous.
    Warne tried to set him at ease. Obviously he would have done all he could to prepare him, because if Warne himself did not know the testimony he could hardly present it to the court.
    “If you would give us the facts and figures as clearly and briefly as you can, please,” Warne requested.
    Knight swallowed, wiped his brow with a rather small handkerchief, then swallowed again.
    “Begin at the beginning,” Warne prompted.
    Gavinton smiled, looking down at the papers in front of him. It was a simple gesture, and yet to Rathbone it conveyed a certain smugness, as if Gavinton were awaiting his opportunity to destroy the young man.
    Knight must have felt the same because when he began his voice was a squeak. First he listed sums of money, reading from a ledger that had been produced in evidence and of which the jurors had copies.
    It was all very tedious, and Rathbone had only to look at the jurors’ faces to see that they were already bored. The figures had no meaning to them at all.
    Mr. Knight himself must have realized it. He hurried up until he was practically gibbering.
    Warne heard him out as if he were interested. Finally he held up his hand.
    “Thank you, Mr. Knight. I think this is sufficient for us to have the idea that these sums of money, added together, amount to a very considerabletotal. You have mentioned dates, but possibly in all the figures, we missed them, or we’ve forgotten. Will you give us the total sum for the year ended last 31 December?”
    “Yes, sir. Two thousand, four hundred and twenty-seven pounds, fifteen shillings and sixpence.”
    “Is that typical of a year? How does it compare, for example, to the year before?”
    “It increases slightly every year, sir, by about a hundred pounds, or maybe a hundred and fifty.”
    “So always sufficient to purchase several very agreeable houses?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And is this year set to reach a similar amount?”
    “If it continues like this, more, sir.”
    “And is it made up of similar random amounts?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Gavinton stood up wearily. “My lord, the defense will stipulate to the amounts mentioned being the sums donated by the parishioners to the charitable endeavors of Mr. Taft’s Church. I think it is something to be proud of, not a cause for shame.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Gavinton,” Rathbone said drily. “I imagine Mr. Warne is establishing the amount, and its source, in order to pursue exactly where it ended up, not to question your skill in assessing it.” He turned to Warne. “Please come to your point, before we are so numbed by these figures we forget that they represent the life savings of many people.”
    A flicker of annoyance crossed Gavinton’s face, but he sat down again.
    Warne inclined his head in acknowledgment. “My lord.” He