Rathbone saw a flash of amusement in Warne’s eyes and knew that those words would be brought back to haunt Drew.
Gavinton nodded. “Of course. You do not deny anyone. And I imagine that the most deeply troubled are not always obviously so to the eye?”
“No,” Drew agreed. “Some carry their wounds very deep within them. I would say this accusation, which is completely groundless, has come from a badly troubled person who labors under the delusion that he and he alone is vindicated by God to lead people. He possibly sees devils where there are none.”
Warne rose to his feet. “My lord, so far as I am aware, the only person in this case who makes any attempt to lead people, and to say that he is privy to the thoughts of God, is the accused.”
There were gasps of horror and a surge of nervous laughter from the gallery.
Rathbone had to feign a sneeze in order to cover his own laughter.
Gavinton was red-faced, his hands raised and clenched. From the witness stand Drew glared at him.
Warne stood there looking innocent. It was a feat of acting that earned Rathbone’s admiration.
“My lord,” he began again, “no witness I have called has claimed to see anything beyond what we can all see, or even suggested the existence of devils. It is Mr. Drew who is indulging in fantasy. Unless, of course, there is some monster here that Mr. Gavinton can see, and I cannot?” He looked around at the jurors, and then the gallery. “I see only human beings, good and bad, all fallible, but only human. Am I alone in that?”
Gavinton’s face blushed a deep red, but it was anger, certainly not shame.
“My learned friend does not recognize an allusion when he hears one,” he said between his teeth.
“I recognize an illusion when I see one,” Warne snapped back.
Several of the jurors laughed then checked themselves immediately, glancing around as if to confirm that no one had noticed their lapse from decorum.
Rathbone smiled. “I think it would be wiser, Mr. Gavinton, if you were to request your witness to stay within the literal. Angels and devils are beyond my jurisdiction.”
A juror wiped his eyes with a large handkerchief. In the gallery there was a definite ripple of amusement.
Gavinton looked at Drew with open warning in his expression. “Were you aware of this inquiry into Mr. Taft’s financial affairs before you were called as a witness?” he asked.
“Yes, I was,” Drew replied.
“Have you any idea where the interest came from that caused the inquiry?”
Drew squared his shoulders. “I took the time and trouble to find out, sir. We are used to having enemies, people whose beliefs are different from ours, or who feel threatened by our calls for charity toward the poor. It is a tragic aspect of human nature that many people who are more than comfortably situated themselves resent others showing the example of Christianity by sharing their substance, and asking that others do so too.” His glance wandered to the jury, then back again to Gavinton. “It makes them feel uncomfortable, even guilty. I have begun to think that there is little in the world as painful to the mind as guilt.”
A response flashed into Rathbone’s mind, but he bit it back.
Warne half rose to his feet, then subsided again without speaking.
“Did you wish to object, sir?” Gavinton asked with mock concern.
“Not at all,” Warne replied. “I realize that Mr. Drew may be uniquely qualified to speak on the subject.”
It was a second before Gavinton realized Warne’s meaning; then the laughter from the gallery enlightened him. He swung back to face Drew.
“Did you find out where this misleading information came from, Mr. Drew?” He raised his voice considerably.
“Yes I did.” Drew’s answer emerged through gritted teeth. “I am very sad to say that some of our own parishioners at one time or another gave more than they had budgeted for, and then when their expenses increased they were unable to cope. Of course, we knew nothing of it at the time, or we would have done what we could to help, in Christian charity. We could not give back their donations, if they wished us to, because they had already been passed on to the people for whom they were intended.”
“Of course,” Gavinton nodded. “Please continue.”
“Some of these people had enlisted the help, or at least the sympathy, of outside sources who do not understand us or our aims.”
“Do you know this for a fact, Mr. Drew? You have seen and spoken to such an outside source?” Gavinton interrupted.
Drew had completely regained his composure. “Yes. After I was aware of the accusations against Mr. Taft, I made it my concern to find out,” he said, pursing his lips. “One of them I have no doubt of, having seen this person actually attending one of our services. And if I may say so, asking a number of questions that I ascribed to simple curiosity at the time, but looking back I realize were attempts at learning more of our business, especially our finances.”
Gavinton looked skeptical. “Are you quite sure, Mr. Drew? Is it not possible that your own anxieties made you suspicious?”
“I thought so myself to begin with,” Drew admitted. He never took his eyes from Gavinton. This time he did not even try to draw in the jury. “But I made a few inquiries out of curiosity, and learned a great deal more of her reputation. She is a childless woman who seems to be prone to finding causes and then crusading for them, not always with fortunate results.”
Now he had the jury’s attention, if reluctantly.
Warne began to look worried. Rathbone wondered why he had not challenged Gavinton, who was allowing Drew to level charges that lacked specificity. Why had Warne not pointed that out, and required that he name this woman, if he could?
“So you learned a good deal about this woman?” Gavinton glanced at Rathbone, and then back at Drew.
“Yes,” Drew agreed. “She has done a degree of good running a free clinic for women of a certain sort, injured or diseased. But her compassion has become undisciplined, and led her into several rash enterprises …”
Rathbone froze. Drew had to be speaking of Hester. Did Warne know that, and that was why he had not pressed Drew to be specific?
“You hesitate,” Gavinton pointed out to Drew.
“I do not wish to damage the woman’s reputation unnecessarily,” Drew answered, his voice smooth. “I don’t think she intended harm, but at times she has totally misunderstood situations and, like an ill-trained horse, run off with the bit between her teeth.”
Gavinton smiled at the expression and shot a dagger-sharp glance at Rathbone. It was only a second’s deviation, so slight as to make Rathbone wonder if he had seen it at all or merely imagined it.
Warne stood up. “My lord, this is totally unsubstantiated imagination. A woman came to Mr. Taft’s Church and her curiosity was awakened as to its work. Surely only a guilty conscience would see harm or irresponsibility in that? No prudent person gives money to an organization, even one claiming to do the work of God, without making some inquiries.”
“Guard your tongue, Mr. Drew,” Rathbone warned. “Or perhaps I should suggest, bridle it!”
The nervous tension broke, and there was a wave of stifled laughter around the gallery.
This time Gavinton was not disconcerted. He smiled back at Rathbone, showing his considerable teeth and then inclining his head in a slight bow.
“I shall have my witness be very specific, my lord.” He looked up at Drew. “Perhaps, sir, you would oblige his lordship by telling the court exactly what you know of this woman, and showing us that your information is accurate, provable, and relevant. The jury at least has a right to this much, if they are to take it into account in their verdict.”
“Of course,” Drew conceded.
Rathbone grasped at last precisely why Gavinton had looked so smug when proceedings had opened today, and why he had glanced at Rathbone with a sly half smile on his face. It chilled him as if someone had opened a door and allowed in a bitter wind. But there was nothing he could do. It was a perfectly legitimate tactic. In fact, it was probably what he himself would have done in Gavinton’s place, and they both knew it. It was going to be a
