morning to speak for the accused on this very serious charge?’
Theodora glanced towards the dock, then said quietly:
‘Mr Fortune forbade me to.’
‘He forbade you? Why?’
‘He wished to face this charge alone. Knowing his innocence, and being sure of an acquittal, he did not wish my name to be mentioned in any way.’
‘I see, I see. And now he’s not so sure of an acquittal – is that it?’
‘I heard Mr Fortune giving evidence this morning. English is not his mother tongue, and an African has greater difficulty in expressing himself clearly than many of us realise. With this language handicap I didn’t feel he was doing his case justice, and I therefore felt I ought to appear myself, even if against his wishes, to tell the court what I knew.’
‘Did you, Miss Pace! Then please tell my Lord how you account for the fact that if the accused, as you say, had only to come to you for money, he chose to live with a prostitute in an East End slum?’
‘Mr Fortune, as I have said, is a very independent man, and preferred to live his Bohemian student life in a quarter inhabited largely by his fellow countrymen. He told me, of course, of his staying for a while in the same house as this woman – which he regarded as an interesting way of catching a glimpse of the seamier side of London life.’
‘So this man, who has admitted he was a penniless labourer, prefers living in squalor with a prostitute when he has a rich mistress willing, and no doubt anxious, to accommodate him at any time?’
‘I need hardly say that I would have preferred him to live in more conventional surroundings.’
‘With you, in other words.’
‘Yes.’
‘But he didn’t. Miss Pace: you have heard the accused admit that he had intercourse with this woman. Did you know of this?’
‘No. I expect he was ashamed to tell me of this momentary lapse.’
‘I expect so, indeed. How old did you say you were, Miss Pace.’
‘Twenty-eight.’
‘And the accused is eighteen?’
‘Nineteen, now.’
‘Is there not a considerable discrepancy between your ages?’
‘Yes, unfortunately.’
‘And you ask us seriously to believe—’
The judge leant forward. ‘I don’t wish to hinder you, Mr Gillespie. But as the witness has admitted her relationship with the defendant, I really don’t think you need press this point any further.’
Theodora turned towards the judge, and said softly, ‘I am pregnant by him, my Lord. I hope to marry the defendant.’
The judge nodded slightly and said nothing. He turned to Mr Gillespie. ‘I have no more questions, my Lord,’ said the Crown counsel.
Theodora left the box, and the two lawyers addressed the jury.
‘You must not attribute,’ said Mr Gillespie, ‘any undue weight to the testimony of Miss Theodora Pace. Remember that this woman who admits – indeed, I should say, glories in – an illicit relationship with the accused, is no doubt under the domination of her obsession. Keep firmly in your minds, rather, the contrast between the evidence you have heard from the two police officers, and that of the accused himself. If there may be, in the evidence of these officers, some slight discrepancies – of which my learned friend has naturally tried to make the most – you must surely conclude that the evidence of the accused is totally, utterly incredible. It simply cannot be believed! No, members of the jury: your duty in this matter is quite clear. Banish from your minds any thought that a verdict against the defendant might be imputed to anything in the nature of racial prejudice. In a British court, all men are equal before the law: and if you believe the defendant to be guilty, as you are bound to do, you should return a verdict in that sense with the same impartiality as you would show were he a fellow citizen of your own.’
To which Mr Vial, raising himself like Moses bringing down the tablets from the Mount, rejoined:
‘My learned friend has asked you to discount the evidence of Miss Theodora Pace. But is her testimony not supremely to be believed? Here is a woman – a courageous woman, I would say, whatever you may think of her moral conduct (which is not what is on trial today) – who is prepared to risk – possibly even to sacrifice irrevocably – an honoured and established position in society, to bear witness to the truth, whatever the cost! Is this mere infatuation? Is this what my learned friend has called the consequences of an