Gridiron Hotel on the afternoon of the twenty-seventh of January; questioned by Moody, he agreed that the notion was very possible. He returned to his place below the dais, and once he was seated again, the justice called the gaol-house chaplain, Cowell Devlin.
‘Reverend Devlin,’ said Broham, once the clergyman had been sworn in. He held up the deed of gift. ‘How did this document first come to be in your possession?’
‘I found it in Crosbie Wells’s cottage, the morning after his death,’ Devlin said. ‘Mr. Lauderback had brought news of Mr. Wells’s death to Hokitika, and I had been charged by Governor Shepard to go to the cottage and assist in the collection of the man’s remains.’
‘Where exactly did you find this document?’
‘I found it in the ash drawer at the bottom of the stove,’ said Devlin. ‘The place had an unhappy atmosphere, and the day was very wet; I decided to light a fire. I opened the drawer, and saw that document lying in the grate.’
‘What did you do next?’
‘I confiscated it,’ said Devlin.
‘Why?’
‘The document concerned a great deal of money,’ the chaplain said calmly, ‘and I judged it prudent not to make the information public until Miss Wetherell’s health had improved: she had been brought into the Police Camp late the previous night on a suspected charge of
‘Was that the only reason for your confiscation?’
‘No,’ Devlin said. ‘As I later explained to Governor Shepard, the document did not seem worth sharing with the police: it was, at that time, invalid.’
‘Why was it invalid?’
‘Mr. Staines had not signed his name to authorise the bequest,’ said Devlin.
‘And yet the document that I am holding
‘I am afraid I can’t,’ Devlin said. ‘I did not witness the signing first-hand.’
Broham faltered. ‘When did you first become aware that the deed had been signed?’
‘On the morning of the twentieth of March, when I took the deed to Miss Wetherell at the Wayfarer’s Fortune. We had been discussing other matters, and it was during our conversation that I first noticed the document had acquired a signature.’
‘Did you see Miss Wetherell sign this deed of gift?’
‘No, I did not.’
Broham was plainly flummoxed by this; to regain composure, he said, ‘What were you discussing?’
‘The nature of our discussion that morning was confidential to my status as a clergyman,’ Devlin said. ‘I cannot be asked to repeat it, or to testify against her.’
Broham was astonished. Devlin, however, was in the right, and after a great deal of protestation and argument, Broham surrendered his witness to Moody, looking very upset. Moody took a moment to arrange his papers before he began.
‘Reverend Devlin,’ he said. ‘Did you show this deed of gift to Governor Shepard immediately after you discovered it?’
‘No, I did not,’ said Devlin.
‘How then did Governor Shepard become aware of its existence?’
‘Quite by accident,’ replied Devlin. ‘I was keeping the document in my Bible to keep it flat, and Governor Shepard chanced upon it while browsing. This occurred perhaps a month after Mr. Wells’s death.’
Moody nodded. ‘Was Mr. Shepard alone when this accidental discovery occurred?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did he do?’
‘He advised me to share the deed with Miss Wetherell, and I did so.’
‘Immediately?’
‘No: I waited some weeks. I wanted to speak with her alone, without Mrs. Carver’s knowledge, and there were few opportunities to do so, given that the two women were living together, and very rarely spent any length of time apart.’
‘Why did you want your conversation with Miss Wetherell to happen without Mrs. Carver’s knowledge?’
‘At the time I believed Mrs. Carver to be the rightful inheritor of the fortune discovered in Mr. Wells’s cottage,’ Devlin said. ‘I did not want to drive a wedge between her and Miss Wetherell, on account of a document that, for all I knew, might have been somebody’s idea of a joke. On the morning of the twentieth of March, as you may remember, Mrs. Carver was summoned to the courthourse. I read of the summons in the morning paper, and made for the Wayfarer’s Fortune at once.’
Moody nodded. ‘Had the deed remained in your Bible, in the meantime?’
‘Yes,’ said Devlin.
‘Were there any subsequent occasions, following Governor Shepard’s initial discovery of the deed of gift, where Governor Shepard was alone with your Bible?’
‘A great many,’ said Devlin. ‘I take it with me to the Police Camp every morning, and I often leave it in the gaol-house office while completing other tasks.’
Moody paused a moment, to let this implication settle. Then he said, changing the subject, ‘How long have you known Miss Wetherell, Reverend?’
‘I had not met her personally before the afternoon of the twentieth of March, when I called on her at the Wayfarer’s Fortune. Since that day, however, she has been in my custody at the Police Camp gaol-house, and I have seen her every day.’
‘Have you had opportunity, over this period, to observe her and converse with her?’
‘Ample opportunity.’
‘Can you describe the general impression you have formed of her character?’
‘My impression is favourable,’ said Devlin. ‘Of course she has been exploited, and of course her past is chequered, but it takes a great deal of courage to reform one’s character, and I am gratified by the efforts she has made. She has thrown off her dependency, for a start; and she is determined never to sell her body again. For those things, I commend her.’
‘What is your opinion of her mental state?’
‘Oh, she is perfectly sane,’ said Devlin, blinking. ‘I have no doubt about that.’
‘Thank you, Reverend,’ Moody said, and then, to the justice, ‘Thank you, sir.’
Next came the expert testimonies from Dr. Gillies; a Dr. Sanders, called down from Kumara to deliver a second medical opinion upon Anna’s mental state; and a Mr. Walsham, police inspector from the Greymouth Police.
The plaintiff, George Shepard, was the last to be called.
As Moody had expected, Shepard dwelled long upon Anna Wetherell’s poor character, citing her opium dependency, her unsavoury profession, and her former suicide attempt as proof of her ignominy. He detailed the ways in which her behaviour had wasted police resources and offended the standards of moral decency, and recommended strongly that she be committed to the newly built asylum at Seaview. But Moody had planned his defence well: following the revelation about Ah Sook, and Devlin’s testimony, Shepard’s admonitions came off as rancorous, even petty. Moody congratulated himself, silently, for raising the issue of Anna’s lunacy before the plaintiff had a chance.
When at last Broham sat down, the justice peered down at the barristers’ bench, and said, ‘Your witness, Mr. Moody.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Moody. He turned to the gaoler. ‘Governor Shepard. To your eye, is the signature of Emery Staines upon this deed of gift a demonstrable forgery?’
Shepard lifted his chin. ‘I’d call it a near enough replica.’
‘Pardon me, sir—why “near enough”?’
Shepard looked annoyed. ‘It is a good replica,’ he amended.
‘Might one call it an
