Giles had nothing to ask. He was too skilled to try to shake him, and would not give him the opportunity to reinforce what he had already said.
Then it was the police surgeon's turn. He was calm, quite certain of his facts and impervious to the power or solemnity of the court. Neither the judge's flowing size and rippling wig nor Land's thundering voice made any impression on him. Under the pomposity of the court were only human bodies. And he had seen bodies naked, had taken them apart when they were dead. He was only too aware of their frailty, their common indignities and needs.
Charlotte tried to imagine members of the court in white dust sheets, without the centuries of dignity their robes lent them, and suddenly it all seemed faintly ridiculous. She wondered if the judge was hot under that great wig; did it itch?
Perhaps the white dust sheets would be just as delusionary as the gowns and robes?
The surgeon was talking. He had a good face, strong without arrogance. He told the truth, sparing nothing. But he stated it as fact, without emotion or judgment. Arthur Wayboume had
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been homosexually used. A ripple of disgust spread through the room. Everyone doubtless already knew, but it was a pleasure, a kind of catharsis to be able to express the feeling and wallow in it. After all, that was what they had come for!
Arthur Waybourne had recently contracted syphilis. Another wave of revulsion-this time also a shudder of surprise and fear. This was disease; it was contagious. TJiere were things about it one knew, and decent people stood in no peril. But there was always mystery with disease, and they were close enough to it for a thrill of apprehension, the cold brush of real danger. It was a disease for which there was no cure.
Then came the surprise. Giles stood up.
'You say, Dr. Cutler, that Arthur Waybourne had recently contracted syphilis?'
'Yes, that is so.'
'Unquestionably?'
'Unquestionably.'
'You could not have made a mistake? It could not be some other disease with similar symptoms?'
'No, it could not.'
'From whom did he contract this disease?'
'I have no way of knowing, sir. Except, of course, that it must have been someone who suffered from the disease.'
'Precisely. That would not tell you who it was-but it would tell you undoubtedly who it was not!'
'Of course.'
There was a shifting in the seats. The judge leaned forward.
'So much would appear to be obvious, Mr. Giles, even to the veriest imbecile. If you have a point, please come to it, sir!'
'Yes, my lord. Dr. Cutler, have you examined the prisoner with the purpose of determining whether he has or has ever had syphilis?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And has he that disease?'
'No, sir, he has not. Nor has he any other communicable disease. He is in good health, as good as a man may be under such stress.'
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There was silence. The judge screwed up his face and stared at the doctor with dislike.
'Do I understand you to say, sir, that the prisoner did not pass on this disease to the victim, Arthur Waybourne?' he asked icily.
'That is correct, my lord. It would have been impossible.'
'Then who did? How did he get it? Did he
