Corridors of the Night (28 page)

Colbert knew when to leave a subject alone. He thanked her and dismissed her.

Juster decided not to question her again. He too knew a winning hand when he had played it.

The next witness he called was Hooper. As soon as he was sworn and stated his name and occupation, Juster moved forward into the open space, and stood gracefully and at ease looking up at him on the stand. He was confident Hooper could take care of himself, and that certainty was in every angle of his body as he began.

‘When did you know that Mrs Monk had been kidnapped by Mr Rand?’

Hooper smiled very slightly. ‘When we found her in his cottage near Redditch, and he was standing there with a surgeon’s knife in his hand, the blade at her throat, threatening to kill her, sir.’

It was not the answer Juster had expected, but the response in the courtroom more than satisfied him. There was a gasp around the gallery and a rustling of clothes as if a wind had passed through a great tree in full leaf. The jury stiffened, some staring at Hooper, others at Hester, who was now seated in the gallery herself.

Mr Justice Patterson bit his lip, and still failed to conceal a smile.

Colbert was on his feet. ‘My lord!’ he protested.

Patterson raised his hand. ‘It was a fair question, Mr Colbert, and a fair answer.’ He looked at Hooper. ‘Do I take it, sir, that until that time you did not know what had happened?’

‘I believed it, my lord,’ Hooper said soberly. ‘But until that time I did not know. It was just what seemed most likely from the evidence, and evidence can be wrong.’

‘Indeed it can, Mr Hooper,’ Patterson agreed. ‘Please continue, Mr Juster. I imagine you have other questions?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ Juster bowed his head very slightly, mostly to conceal his smile. Rathbone knew that, because he was doing the same. But they were a long way from victory yet. The defence had not even begun.

‘Mr Hooper,’ Juster continued, ‘Mr Monk is your immediate superior, is that correct?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did he order you to join him in this journey to look for Mrs Monk?’

‘No, sir. He didn’t order me to do anything apart from my usual River Police duties. We’re kind of short-handed after several of us were wounded in a battle on a gunrunning ship.’ His voice dropped. ‘And one of us bled to death. I’m officially still on sick leave, sir.’

Rathbone looked at Hooper more carefully and noticed that he was standing in the witness box not entirely straight. One might have taken it for the awkwardness of a big man in a confined space, and perhaps taken by the tension of the experience. Now he could see it was truly the adjustment of weight of someone who was not entirely healed from an injury.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Juster answered. ‘I hope you are close to recovery.’

‘Thank you, sir, very close,’ Hooper acknowledged it.

‘But nevertheless you went with Mr Monk to look for his wife, and attempt a rescue?’

‘Yes, sir. Once Dr Rand gave us the address we reckoned there was no time to waste. If Mr Radnor died, then there’d be no reason to keep Mrs Monk alive. She could testify against him.’

Colbert shot to his feet. ‘My lord! That is an extremely prejudicial remark. The witness has no knowledge whatsoever that Mr Rand would do anything of the sort! Indeed, as the court heard, Mrs Monk has considerable regard for Mr Rand’s experiment. She even went so far as to say it may become a gift to all future medicine. I ask that you direct the jury to disregard the witness’s remark, and caution him to make no more such observations.’

Patterson held his hand up to silence Juster’s protest and turned to the witness stand. ‘Mr Hooper, did you say that she “could” testify against him, or that she “would” do so? Please be exact, sir.’

‘That she could, my lord,’ Hooper answered levelly. ‘She would be in a position to . . .’

Patterson nodded and turned to Colbert. ‘That seems to be a fair observation. If Mr Radnor had died, Mrs Monk would undoubtedly have been in a position to testify. Please proceed, Mr Juster.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’ Juster turned to the witness stand again. ‘How did you find this cottage, Mr Hooper?’

Hooper gave a simple and vivid account of what they had done, starting with obtaining a wagon suitable to the journey. Then he described – with frequent objections by Colbert – how they had overpowered the gardener and tied him up before going into the house, and discovering Adrienne Radnor in the kitchen, and Hester assisting Rand in ministering to Bryson Radnor. He included how Rand had reacted, his threat to Hester and how she had defeated it.

Colbert made only one serious attempt at defence when he rose to cross-question Hooper.

‘I will not ask you, Mr Hooper, why you felt it necessary or appropriate to attack the gardener,’ he said contemptuously. ‘The poor man is still suffering the aftereffects of his experience and so is unable to testify today. Therefore the only other word we have regarding this sorry affair is yours, and that of your friends. But you might tell us whether Miss Radnor resisted your invasion? And please tell us why you omitted to say that she was just as much of assistance as she appeared to be? Her beloved father, her only living relative, was desperately ill, and without Mr Rand’s help, certainly dying. Is it not natural that she would remain with him, even if only to tend to his needs and comfort him in his final days? Would not any daughter do as much?’

‘Yes, she would,’ Hooper replied with a very slight smile. ‘But she is the only one I know of who kept a nurse and three children captive to do it.’

‘Captive, Mr Hooper?’ Colbert said with deceptive smoothness. ‘Was Miss Radnor armed with some weapon? From your account of Mrs Monk, she is a formidable woman when it comes to combat. What was Miss Radnor’s weapon? Surely none so deadly as the surgical knife Mrs Monk so expertly dealt with when Mr Rand had it at her throat?’

‘Miss Radnor had a key,’ Hooper replied. ‘One that locks the door so you cannot get out. And of course the assistance of a gardener with a shotgun.’

Rathbone let his breath out in a long sigh, and smiled, feeling the pain of tension ease momentarily from his shoulders.

Juster did not even attempt to hide his jubilation. Nothing Colbert could do now would erase this from the jury’s minds.

It was nearly five o’clock in the afternoon. Surely Patterson would adjourn any minute.

Patterson smiled. ‘Gentlemen, I think that this is the ideal moment to—’

He got no further. The entrance doors to the courtroom crashed open, flung so wide that they let in the cool air and the buzz of voices from the outside hall. Everyone turned to stare at the violent interruption. An elderly man stood there, the silver in his wild hair gleaming, his dress immaculate. He was flanked on either side by the court ushers who had failed to prevent his entrance.

‘Sir!’ Patterson began.

The man strode forward firmly; his head high, face alight with vigour.

‘This is the trial of Hamilton Rand and Adrienne Radnor?’ he demanded, his voice ringing. ‘On the charge of having conducted unlawful experiments in medicine, and the transfusion of human blood from one person to another? Yes?’ He kept striding forwards, ignoring everyone else and addressing his questions only to the judge. ‘Yes, I thought so. Well, I sir, am Bryson Radnor. And as you can see from my demeanour, I am in excellent health, rescued from the edge of the grave by the courage and the genius of Hamilton Rand. And of course the loyalty of my daughter, Adrienne, who never gave up the fight to save me from death of that terrible illness we know as the white blood disease – the cause of so many we cannot count them.’ His voice was strong, resonant, commanding.

There was utter silence in the court. The jury could have been wax statues coloured to look like men. Even Patterson seemed frozen in mid-sentence.

Radnor turned at last and regarded the rest of the room. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, Hamilton Rand is one of the heroes at whom future ages will gaze with awe. Soldiers on battlefields we have not yet dreamed of, victims of all manner of appalling accidents, will live because of his work, his patience, his faith in the arts and sciences of medicine and the will to learn.’

A man in the gallery stood up and raised his arms in the air.

‘Wonderful!’ he cried out.

Another rose and did exactly the same. Then a third, a fourth, and finally the entire gallery.

Patterson commanded order, but his voice could barely be heard above the tumult.

Juster sat down as if his knees had buckled under him. He stared hopelessly at Rathbone and did not bother searching for words.

The jury sat baffled, but they were smiling.

Gradually the roar died down and Patterson was able to make himself heard.

‘. . . Gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen! Order, please!’

At last there was something approaching silence. Slowly people resumed their seats.

Colbert was elated, but he had the good sense to say nothing, and artfully to look as amazed as everyone else.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Patterson began again, ‘in view of the remarkable events that have just taken place, I wish to reconsider the entire matter, and take advice on the issues now involved. I am adjourning the trial of Hamilton Rand and Adrienne Radnor until then . . .’

That evening Monk and Hester sat at the kitchen table and ate dinner without tasting it. Scuff was present, as usual, but Worm was there also. He had asked to be, and when it was time to leave he came close to physically hanging on to Hester’s skirts so no one could take him away. She put her arms around him and defied anyone to fight her.

‘He was part of the rescue,’ she said, staring at Monk defiantly.

Now the four of them sat at the table over plates only half empty. No one had the heart to eat with any pleasure. It was Worm who asked what they were all thinking.

‘Wot ’appened?’ he asked in one of several long silences.

Monk had not been in the court during most of the evidence. He looked at Hester to explain.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said honestly. ‘It looked as if we were winning, easily. Mr Hooper was terrific. I think everybody knew that Mr Rand took us to Redditch and kept us there by force. Then Mr Radnor strode into the court and claimed that Rand had cured him of white blood disease, and was one of the great heroes of medicine.’

‘Is ’e?’ Worm asked, frowning. ‘I thought ’e kept yer there an’ wouldn’t let you come ’ome. In’t that wrong?’

‘Yes, it is. But probably just about everyone there knew somebody who was sick one way or another, or could be one day. They want to believe that it could be true that there is a way for them to be healed. We all want to think so. They don’t want to have Mr Rand put into prison.’

‘But ’e done summink wicked,’ Worm said again. He could not understand why that was not enough.

Hester put out her hand and touched him gently. ‘If I were very sick, and there was just one doctor who could make me better, wouldn’t you want him to stay out of prison and do that?’

Worm stared at her, worried. ‘Yer not sick, are yer?’ His voice trembled a bit in spite of his efforts to control it.

Hester blinked hard. She was tired and feeling thoroughly beaten, more vulnerable than she wanted him to know.

‘No, I’m not. I’m fine, and I’m going to stay fine. But some people are sick, and we hope every one of them has somebody who loves them.’

Worm nodded slowly. ‘I see.’

‘Do you? Being ill is pretty frightening. We don’t always think very clearly when we’re afraid,’ she answered.

‘Then nothin’ ’appens to ’im, even though ’e did that to you?’ Worm persisted.

‘Not at the moment,’ she admitted.

‘We aren’t finished yet,’ Monk interrupted. ‘We’ll have to think what to do.’

Worm’s face lit up. ‘Will yer? Can I ’elp?’

This time Scuff also looked at Monk, the questions in his face.

‘When I think of what to do,’ Monk replied. ‘Tonight I’m too tired to have many ideas.’

Scuff was frowning. ‘The Robertses sold their kids, didn’t they?’ he asked, looking from Hester to Monk.

‘Yes,’ Hester replied. ‘They couldn’t feed them. They thought the Rands would.’

Scuff gave her a disbelieving look.

‘Sometimes we believe what we need to,’ she said sadly. ‘We can’t bear to think anything else. Why? We can’t charge them with kidnapping.’

‘You reckon he bought all of ’em?’ he asked. ‘If we could find even one ’e didn’t. Has ’e really got enough money to do that, and buy all the stuff for machines an’ that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Monk said thoughtfully. ‘I’ll go and see Rathbone tomorrow. He might have some idea.’

He turned to Scuff. ‘Maybe you could take a day off school. Stay here.’

‘Can I too?’ Worm asked eagerly.

‘You don’t go to school,’ Scuff pointed out.

‘Yes, I do!’ Worm said instantly, although they all knew he didn’t.

‘Then tomorrow you can,’ Monk said immediately. ‘Scuff will teach you.’

Worm’s face lit up with pleasure. He turned to stare hopefully at Scuff.

Scuff knew when he was beaten and he shrugged ruefully. Perhaps actually it wouldn’t be so bad. ‘I’ll make you work,’ he warned.

Worm gave him a dazzling smile.

HESTER WAS lying rigid on the bed, terrified, but she had no idea why, or what it was that paralysed her with such fear. She wanted to struggle, to reach out in the darkness, very slowly, and see what she touched, but she could not move.

She strained her ears and heard nothing but a faint dripping, slow and very small. There was no other sound at all, not even her own breathing.

She tried to move her feet, but a tightness around her ankles held her feet. She jerked her hand. That too was tied at the wrist. Then, like a horror taking shape in front of her, she realised she could not move because she was tied down, wrists, ankles, and a band around the chest.

She jerked at them roughly, and they grew even tighter. She could still see nothing; hear nothing but the very faint drip. And then that too stopped. She was weak. Her mouth tasted dry. There was a sore place on her left arm, just inside the crook of the elbow, where the veins were close to the surface . . . That was what she could smell! That faint, warm coppery odour in the air – blood!