William Monk 19 - Blind Justice

I dare say it would count to shillings, one way or the other, over a year or so. Such errors are always put right when the books are balanced.”
    “Once a year?” Gavinton inquired.
    “Once a quarter, sir,” Drew corrected him.
    Gavinton nodded. “I see. And what do you make of the claims that there is a profound fraud going on, to the amount of tens of thousands of pounds, all very cleverly disguised in pages and pages of complex figures?”
    Drew blinked then looked down at his strong hands on the railing. “Frankly, Mr. Gavinton, when one is trying to minister to a flock, one expects all manner of people. The doors of a Christian church cannot be closed to anyone. Those who come in will do so for many reasons and to fill many kinds of needs.” His voice was sonorous with regret.“We draw the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak, the quarrelsome and the silent.” He looked up. “Quite frankly, we also draw the guilty, the troubled, at times the malicious, and also those whose mental balance is questionable, who seek attention and must have it at any cost. Occasionally we even have people who see and hear things that are not there, who imagine voices and labor under the delusion that they speak for God.”
    Rathbone saw a flash of amusement in Warne’s eyes and knew that those words would be brought back to haunt Drew.
    Gavinton nodded. “Of course. You do not deny anyone. And I imagine that the most deeply troubled are not always obviously so to the eye?”
    “No,” Drew agreed. “Some carry their wounds very deep within them. I would say this accusation, which is completely groundless, has come from a badly troubled person who labors under the delusion that he and he alone is vindicated by God to lead people. He possibly sees devils where there are none.”
    Warne rose to his feet. “My lord, so far as I am aware, the only person in this case who makes any attempt to lead people, and to say that he is privy to the thoughts of God, is the accused.”
    There were gasps of horror and a surge of nervous laughter from the gallery.
    Rathbone had to feign a sneeze in order to cover his own laughter.
    Gavinton was red-faced, his hands raised and clenched. From the witness stand Drew glared at him.
    Warne stood there looking innocent. It was a feat of acting that earned Rathbone’s admiration.
    “My lord,” he began again, “no witness I have called has claimed to see anything beyond what we can all see, or even suggested the existence of devils. It is Mr. Drew who is indulging in fantasy. Unless, of course, there is some monster here that Mr. Gavinton can see, and I cannot?” He looked around at the jurors, and then the gallery. “I see only human beings, good and bad, all fallible, but only human. Am I alone in that?”
    Gavinton’s face blushed a deep red, but it was anger, certainly not shame.
    “My learned friend does not recognize an allusion when he hears one,” he said between his teeth.
    “I recognize an illusion when I see one,” Warne snapped back.
    Several of the jurors laughed then checked themselves immediately, glancing around as if to confirm that no one had noticed their lapse from decorum.
    Rathbone smiled. “I think it would be wiser, Mr. Gavinton, if you were to request your witness to stay within the literal. Angels and devils are beyond my jurisdiction.”
    A juror wiped his eyes with a large handkerchief. In the gallery there was a definite ripple of amusement.
    Gavinton looked at Drew with open warning in his expression. “Were you aware of this inquiry into Mr. Taft’s financial affairs before you were called as a witness?” he asked.
    “Yes, I was,” Drew replied.
    “Have you any idea where the interest came from that caused the inquiry?”
    Drew squared his shoulders. “I took the time and trouble to find out, sir. We are used to having enemies, people whose beliefs are different from ours, or who feel threatened by our calls for charity toward the poor. It is a tragic aspect of human nature that many people who are more than comfortably situated themselves resent others showing the example of Christianity by sharing their substance, and asking that others do so too.” His glance wandered to the jury, then back again to Gavinton. “It makes them feel uncomfortable, even guilty. I have begun to think that there is little in the world as painful to the mind as guilt.”
    A response flashed into Rathbone’s mind, but he bit it back.
    Warne half rose to