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‘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 sl
ight 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.
