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Grisewood stood up slowly. ‘My lord, this is all very heartbreaking, I’m sure, but it is completely unprovable. Even if Miss Cumberford could embarrass us all by showing bruises, there is no proof where she got them, or how. She could have slipped and fallen downstairs.’ He shrugged exaggeratedly.
The judge looked at Daniel. This was the moment he had been angling for. He must word it exactly. This chance would not come twice.
‘My lord, I understand this is hard to believe, and the whole of Miss Cumberford’s story is in the balance, as my learned friend suggests.’ Grisewood had not gone so far as to say anything on it – but Daniel had.
‘Well, Mr Pitt?’ the judge asked.
‘I call Miss fford Croft to the stand, my lord.’
‘Miss fford Croft?’ Grisewood’s eyebrows shot up. ‘In what capacity?’
Daniel turned to the judge, as if it were he who had asked. ‘She has sat the degree examinations at Cambridge in medicine, and in chemistry, my lord. I think that expertise will become apparent.’
‘Oh, really!’ Grisewood was filled with derision.
The judge looked up at him with dislike, then turned back to Daniel again. ‘Is she related to Marcus fford Croft, by any chance?’
‘Yes, my lord, she is his daughter.’
‘Very well. But you will have to allow Mr Grisewood to cross-examine her when you are finished.’ He made it almost a question, giving Daniel time to withdraw if he thought it too much for Miriam. He actually thought Miriam would take him to pieces if he did that!
Miriam was duly sworn and prepared to face Daniel. She was dressed in a deep wine-coloured suit, very plain but so well-tailored it managed to look businesslike and yet very feminine at the same time. She was not as slender as Daniel had remembered, and rather more gracefully curved. Her bright hair was coiled very fashionably. She looked fragile, compared with the sturdiness of Grisewood. Daniel was suddenly afraid for her. Perhaps this was a mistake? He was not willing to sacrifice Miriam, no matter how angry she might be, in order to save Ebony. There had to be another way.
‘Mr Pitt?’ The judge brought him sharply back to the present.
‘Miss fford Croft, would you tell his lordship, and the court, what expertise you have to give evidence before this court? What have you studied, where, and for how long?’ Did his voice sound as shaky and defensive as he felt?
‘I studied medicine for some six years, and chemistry for five. At Cambridge, my lord. I passed all my exams with honours.’
‘So, you have degrees in both medicine and chemistry?’ Daniel prompted.
‘No, sir.’ She kept the anger from her face, but she could not hide the grief. ‘As may be apparent, I am a woman.’
‘I see,’ said Daniel. ‘Or actually I don’t see, but I have checked with the university and I know it is true. Thank you, Miss fford Croft.’ He turned towards the judge. ‘With his lordship’s permission, I will now question you regarding your knowledge in this particular case.’
‘Proceed.’ The judge nodded his head fractionally.
‘Yes, my lord.’ There was no help for it now, no way except ahead. ‘Miss fford Croft, the police surgeon examined the body by the fireplace, and accepted Miss Graves’ identification of it as Ebony Graves. In the course of my attempts to defend Mr Graves on the charge of having murdered his wife, did you have cause to examine that body yourself? And if so, what conclusions did you reach?’
Grisewood rose to his feet, and the judge ordered him to sit down before he could raise his objection. ‘I will tell the jury to ignore it, if it is irrelevant, Mr Grisewood,’ he said sharply. ‘Let us hear it first.’
‘What did you find, Miss fford Croft?’ Daniel asked. He was nervous now, and it was reflected in his voice. He could hear it himself.
‘That the burns had been made after death, using linseed oil and oiled silk, and some such thing to ignite, as a safety match, or possibly a taper from the fire,’ Miriam replied. ‘And a certain amount of cotton had been used to carry the heat and provide fuel. I also X-rayed the bones, and discovered that they had four old, well-healed breaks in them. Three in the hand and arms, one in the ankle.’
‘How did you know they were long-healed?’ he asked.
‘When a bone is healing, the body puts new calcium on the breach, rather as we would put cement on a piece of broken china. It thickens with time, and I have X-rays here that perhaps I will be allowed to show the jury?’ She turned to the judge. ‘If I may, my lord?’ She held up a very large photographic print. He put out his hand.
She deliberately left the witness stand and walked gracefully across the floor of the court, and offered him the photograph, although actually it was shadowy black and white, allowing the light through it – a negative rather than a print.
‘Thank you.’ He took it and looked at it.
‘That is a hand,’ she offered. ‘It’s rather beautiful, is it not? You can see the structure and how many bones there are in it. A most perfect instrument, strong, easily manipulated, delicate, agile and fit for an infinity of purposes.’
The judge smiled. ‘You are very enthusiastic in your art, Dr . . . Miss fford Croft.’
‘Not my art, my lord. God’s, or whoever you believe created us. I merely explain.’
