‘Yes, sir. I understand.’
‘Good. Sit.’
She sat.
‘Mr. Broham,’ said Justice Kemp, ‘the Court will now hear your statement.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Broham was a slender man with a ginger moustache and sharp, watery eyes. He rose, squaring the edges of his papers with the edge of the desk.
‘Mr. Justice Kemp, fellow members of the Court, ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘That the smoke of the poppy is a drug primitive in its temptations, devastating in its effects, and reprehensible in its associations, both social and historical, ought among all decent citizens to be a commonplace. Today we shall examine a sorry case in point: a young woman whose weakness for the drug has besmirched not only Hokitika’s public countenance, but the countenance of our newly anointed District of Westland at large …’
Broham’s statement was lengthy. He reminded the members of the Court that Anna had made an attempt upon her life once before, drawing a connexion between that failed attempt and her collapse on the afternoon of the 20th of March—‘both of which,’ he added, with a cynical accent, ‘did well to draw the attention of the public eye’. He devoted a great deal of time to her forgery of Staines’s signature upon the deed of gift, casting doubt upon the validity of the document as written, and emphasising the degree to which Anna stood to gain, by falsifying it. Turning to the charge of assault, he spoke in general terms about the dangerous and unpredictable character of the opium addict, and then described Staines’s gunshot wound in such frank detail that a woman in the gallery had to be escorted from the building. In closing, he invited all present to consider how much opium two thousand pounds would buy; and then he asked, rhetorically, whether the public would suffer such a quantity to be placed in the hands of such a damaged and ill-connected person as Miss Anna Wetherell, former lady of the night.
‘Mr. Moody,’ the justice said, when Broham sat down. ‘A statement for the defence.’
Moody rose promptly. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said to the justice. ‘I shall be brief.’ His hands were shaking: he splayed them firmly on the desktop before him, to steady himself, and then in a voice that sounded much more confident than he felt, he said,
‘I will begin by reminding Mr. Broham that Miss Wetherell has in fact thrown off her dependency, an achievement for which she has earned my most sincere admiration and respect. Certainly, as Mr. Broham has taken such pleasure in describing to you all, Miss Wetherell’s disposition is of the kind that leaves her prey to the myriad temptations of addiction. I myself have never touched the smoke of the poppy, as Mr. Broham has also assured you he has not, and I hazard to guess that one reason for our mutual abstinence is fear: fear of the drug’s probable power over us; fear of its addictive quality; fear of what we might see, or do, were we to succumb to its effects. I make this remark to emphasise the fact that Miss Wetherell’s weakness in this regard is not unique to her, and I say again that she has my commendation for having committed herself so wholeheartedly to the project of her own reform.
‘But—whatever Mr. Broham might have you believe—we are not here to adjudicate Miss Wetherell’s temperament, nor to deliver a verdict upon her character. We are here to adjudicate how justice might best be served with respect to three accusations: one of forgery, one of disorderly conduct, and one of assault. I do not disagree with Mr. Broham’s contention that forgery is a serious crime, and nor do I find fault with his assertion that grievous assault is the close cousin of homicide; however, and as my case will shortly demonstrate, Miss Wetherell is innocent of all three crimes. She has not committed forgery; she has attempted in no way to assault Mr. Emery Staines; and her collapse on the afternoon of the twentieth of March could hardly be called disorderly, any more than the lady who was escorted from this very courtroom ten minutes ago could be accused of the same. I have not the slightest doubt that the testimony of witnesses will demonstrate my client’s innocence, and that they will do so in very short order. In anticipation of this happy outcome, Mr. Justice, esteemed members of the court, ladies and gentlemen, I do not hesitate to place the matter in the good hands of the law.’
Moody sat, his heart thumping. He looked up at the justice, hoping for some token of affirmation, but Justice Kemp was bent over his ledger, taking notes. Broham was looking down the bench at Moody, a very nasty expression on his face. Fellowes, sitting next to him, leaned over to whisper something in his ear, and after a moment he smiled, and whispered something back.
‘Thank you, Mr. Moody,’ the justice said at last, underlining what he had written with a flourish, and putting down his pen. ‘The defendant will now rise. Mr. Broham, you have the floor.’
Broham stood, and thanked the justice a second time.
‘Miss Wetherell,’ he said, turning to her. ‘Until the night of the fourteenth of January, how did you make your living?’
‘Mr. Broham!’ snapped the justice at once. ‘What did I just say? Miss Wetherell is a member of the old profession. Let that suffice.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Broham. He began again. ‘Miss Wetherell. On the night of the fourteenth of January you made a decision regarding your former employment, is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was it?’
‘I quit.’
‘What do you mean when you say that you “quit”?’
‘I quit whoring.’
The justice sighed. ‘Continue,’ he said, with a tone of resignation.
‘Did you take up alternative employment at once?’ Broham said, moving on.
‘Not at once,’ Anna said. ‘But when Mrs. Wells arrived in town she took me in at the Wayfarer’s Fortune. I started learning the Tarot, and astral charts, with the idea that I might assist her in telling fortunes. I thought I might earn a living as her assistant.’
‘At the time that you quit your former employment, did you have this future purpose in mind?’
‘No,’ said Anna. ‘I didn’t know that Mrs. Wells was coming before she arrived.’
‘In the period before Mrs. Wells arrived in Hokitika, how then did you expect that you would support yourself?’
‘I didn’t have a plan,’ Anna said.
‘No plan at all?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You did not have a nest egg, perhaps? Or another form of surety?’
‘No, sir.’
‘In that case, you made a radical step,’ said Broham, pleasantly.
‘Mr. Broham!’ snapped the justice.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Make your point.’
‘Certainly. This deed of gift’—Broham produced it—‘names you, Miss Wetherell, as the lucky inheritor of
‘I object,’ said Moody, rising. ‘Mr. Broham has not established that Miss Wetherell had no provocation to change her circumstances of employment.’
The justice allowed this, and Broham, looking peeved, was obliged to put the question to Anna: ‘Did you have provocation, Miss Wetherell, in making the decision to cease prostituting yourself?’
‘Yes,’ said Anna. She looked at Moody again. He nodded slightly, encouraging her to speak. She drew a breath, and said, ‘I fell in love. With Mr. Staines. The night of the fourteenth of January was the first night we spent together, and—well, I didn’t want to keep whoring after that.’
Broham was frowning. ‘That was the very same night you were arrested for attempted suicide, was it not?’
‘Yes,’ Anna said. ‘I thought he didn’t love me—that he couldn’t love me—and I couldn’t bear it—and I did a terrible thing.’
