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“Yes, yes,” the judge agreed. “Dr. Hyde, you know better than that. We must go through the correct…rigmarole!”
Rathbone half hid a smile. “Dr. Hyde, what would be the result of the blow you describe, please?”
“To render him dizzy, perhaps cause a momentary lapse of consciousness lasting a minute or so.”
“Long enough to get him out of the water, for example?” Rathbone asked with exaggerated innocence.
“Precisely,” Hyde agreed.
“Thank you. Oh…Dr. Hyde, the defendant was concerned with another prisoner that the Customs service inadvertently lost, a man named Blount. Did you also examine his corpse?”
“Yes,” Hyde agreed.
“He also was drowned?”
“Yes.”
“Were there any other marks, bruises, et cetera on his body?”
“Gunshot wound on his back,” Hyde replied totally without expression.
“I presume Mr. Monk had nothing to do with that?” Rathbone went on.
“Not so far as I know,” Hyde agreed.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Wingfield seemed to consider coming back to Hyde, and then decided against it. After the luncheon adjournment he called Fin Gillander to the stand.
Gillander came in with a slight swagger, one perhaps so natural to him he was not even aware of it. He was a handsome man, approaching his prime, and there was a sigh and a rustle of people straightening up, nudging each other and a few whispers as he took the oath.
Wingfield intended to make the most of it. He established Gillander’s occupation, his ownership of the Summer Wind, what manner of ship she was, and that Gillander had sailed in her all the way from the coast of California, coming around the wild and treacherous Cape Horn. Every man and woman in the court was listening with total attention, although possibly for different reasons. A jury of women might have believed him whatever he said. But of course there were no women on juries. They were not eligible.
“And you were moored by the opposite shore from Skelmer’s Wharf?” Wingfield asked.
“Yes,” Gillander agreed.
“And you were on deck, in spite of the inclement weather?”
“It wasn’t bad.”
“Did you observe Mr. Monk and Mr. Hooper waiting on the wharf?”
“I didn’t know their names at the time, but I saw two men waiting, and I heard later who they were.”
“Just so. And you saw the other two, Mr. Pettifer and Mr. Owen, arrive?”
“Yes. From opposite sides of the buildings. Couldn’t say who was chasing whom. They collided and started to fight. I saw Mr. Monk and Mr. Hooper intervene.”
“You could see that, right from the other side of the river?” Wingfield was openly skeptical.
Two of the jurors leaned forward.
“Telescope,” Gillander exclaimed with a smile.
Wingfield’s face lit with understanding. “Of course. What happened next?”
“The smaller man and Mr. Hooper fell into the water, then the big man leaped into the water and started thrashing around,” Gillander answered. “Panicked, by the look of it. Damn stupid, but it happens quite often.”
