by Tara Haigh
Just as she was about to leave, she was stopped by an old Indian woman wrapped in blankets, whose face had been marked by the sun and was shrivelled like a raisin. The woman held a garland of flowers towards her, and there was a wooden box beside her containing many more. She was selling them to the worshippers. Ella bought one and wondered where she ought to hang it. Once again, it was Durga – the beautiful woman riding the lion – who caught her eye. Would she hear the prayers of a Christian? Ella laid the wreath below her statue and hoped fervently that the forces of evil wouldn’t carry the day this time.
Now that the start of the trial was only one day away, Ella felt it necessary to pay a visit to Puteri – especially as he would have met with Jones by now. She was only too glad to pass on Puteri’s – or rather, the lawyer’s – good news to Amar. ‘The mask has been accepted as evidence in court,’ were the first words out of her mouth once he had released her from his close embrace. But that wasn’t the only thing he needed to know. She recounted her meeting with Raj.
Amar sat down on his bunk, overwhelmed by the flood of new information from both her father’s diary and her encounter in the temple. It was a lot to digest in just ten minutes, for once again, Puteri couldn’t let them spend any longer together without being accused of giving them preferential treatment. And they still hadn’t discussed everything that was weighing on Ella’s mind.
Amar likewise had plenty to say.
‘Have you told Puteri about your father’s diary?’ he asked her.
‘No.’ After careful thought, Ella had decided against it.
‘Why not?’ Amar was baffled. ‘It would have incriminated Marjory.’
‘Raj expects her to attend the trial in the morning. I’ve already told Puteri about my suspicions that Marjory might have something to do with Rudolf’s death. If I also give him a concrete motive then she’ll be placed under arrest tomorrow. There is nothing I would like better than that – but then I wouldn’t have anything to use against her in court.’
Amar didn’t look as though he quite followed her logic.
‘I feel sure she was behind your arrest. She wants to harm me indirectly and force me to leave the country.’
Amar nodded thoughtfully.
‘To do that, however, she needs Compton. I don’t know what obstacles she will try to put in my path tomorrow, but it can’t hurt to have an ace up my sleeve to play against her,’ Ella explained.
‘But why would Heather do this? What would drive a woman to incriminate her own mother?’ Amar seemed just as puzzled by Heather’s behaviour as Ella.
‘She must believe that Marjory had a hand in Rudolf’s death,’ Ella answered.
Amar paused to reflect. He obviously wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘But Marjory is her mother . . .’ he objected.
He had a valid point. She recalled how loving their relationship had been. Heather seemed to mean the world to Marjory.
‘Something terrible must have happened. Something we don’t know about yet,’ he conjectured.
And then came the knock at the door. The visit was over. As she gave Amar a farewell embrace, she hoped this was the last time she would have to see him behind bars.
The following morning, Ella found the wait before she had to leave for the courthouse unbearable, so she set out half an hour before she needed to, as she didn’t know how else to occupy herself or what else she could possibly say to Lee. The innkeeper had joined her at breakfast and given her a few words of encouragement, but Ella’s anxiety was such that she had no idea how to respond. Lee had also been a godsend the previous night, as it was only thanks to her knowledge of Chinese herbs that Ella had managed to get any sleep at all. Before Lee’s intervention, she had stayed up late into the night, reading and rereading her father’s diary entries, noticing as she did so that the pain they caused her was gradually giving way to a different emotion: anger towards Richard Foster. Her fingers had instinctively reached for Rudolf’s document case – which she had obtained from Puteri – as though she could draw strength from it.
Now Ella found herself circling the courthouse, which shared a wall with the plain-looking police headquarters, for at least the second time. With no sign of Jones just yet, she went back to sit on her cart. There was no point in keeping a lookout for Amar. The police station and high court were interconnected, so she wouldn’t see him until she entered the courthouse herself. Instead, she used the time to consider how the two of them could leave Johore and meet Bujang as quickly – and above all, as safely – as possible. The road in front of the courthouse was broad and bustling with people. Compton wouldn’t be able to apprehend them here – but what would happen when they reached the edge of town? Puteri had intimated to her that the police couldn’t stand up to the army. In other words, he wouldn’t be able to help her. That worried Ella more than the outcome at the court, which Puteri had told her would be in the English tradition of a trial by jury.
Jones still hadn’t appeared, but she spotted the familiar sight of the Fosters’ carriage with Raj sitting on the coach box. He drove right up to the courthouse entrance before dismounting and helping Marjory down. Ella felt a cramp in her stomach and instinctively reached for the document case.
‘Miss Kaltenbach. I knew I would be able to rely on German punctuality.’ Jones had come on foot and appeared beside her cart as if from nowhere.
‘I’ve already met with the Crown prosecutor. There will only be one witness – an officer named Bennett, who allegedly saw Amar at the scene. I’m already looking forward to cross-examining him in the witness box.’ Jones seemed so confident of victory that Ella felt certain she would soon have one thing less to worry about.
Jones had made sure that Ella had a seat in the front row. Although the sight of Marjory made her feel ill, she wanted to be as close to Amar as possible. He was sitting in a wooden dock that looked a little like a theatre box, though it was far from luxurious. The jurors sat down on some benches off to the right, while Jones and the prosecutor shared a long table directly in front of Ella.
As she took her seat, Ella sensed that Marjory was looking in her direction, and when she turned to face her, the other woman shot her a baleful glare before looking away again to concentrate on the opening address given by the judge – an elderly man in a white wig. Ella kept her head held high, since for once she knew more than the black-clad plantation owner did. Marjory probably had no idea that Heather had already made her way to the harbour in Singapore and abandoned her mother forever. Nor did she know what Ella had in her case. Ella was unsurprised to see Compton take the empty seat beside Marjory just before the judge began to speak.
The list of charges was read out – an endless succession of trumped-up nonsense. No wonder Jones was already rolling his eyes.
‘Not guilty.’ Jones’s voice was so emphatic it made an impression not only on Ella but on the jurors too. Then the prosecutor rose to his feet and described the events of Mohan’s rescue. Bennett was called to the stand. Ella thought he looked nervous, and he kept glancing across at Compton – clearly looking to him for encouragement. As he described the course of events, Bennett began to look calmer and more composed. That was hardly a surprise, for he was telling the truth. Amar had already told Ella what had happened, and Bennett’s account roughly matched what she already knew. The crucial moment came at the end, however.
‘Can you identify the man who lost his mask as he fled the scene?’ asked the prosecutor – a gaunt figure, to whom Ella took an instant dislike.
Bennett nodded and pointed at Amar.
‘No further questions, Your Honour.’
Ella didn’t know what made her angrier – the prosecutor’s smug smirk or the triumphant glint in Compton’s eye.
Jones stood up and began by walking over to the jurors and surveying them closely. Then he turned to face the witness, but remained standing by the jury. He evidently wanted to give them the impression that he was on their side. Jones was certainly a very skilled lawyer.
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‘I believe you are an officer of the British Army?’ he opened.
The officer calmly confirmed that he was.
‘And do you have to follow orders from your superiors?’ Jones went on.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Objection,’ the prosecutor. ‘This question is irrelevant.’
The judge gave Jones a quizzical look.
‘I will demonstrate to the court that it is relevant,’ he said, before glancing over at Compton and Marjory, who looked unmoved.
Ella could see that the officer was growing nervous and beginning to sweat. That was no surprise, for Compton had instructed him to lie – an Achilles heel that Jones was plainly bearing down on.
‘Did somebody order you to identify the defendant as one of the individuals involved in the crime?’ asked Jones.
A murmur passed through the hall.
‘This is outrageous!’ Compton shouted over the tumult.
‘Order, order!’ The judge pounded his gavel on the wooden block in front of him.
‘Of course not,’ Bennett stuttered.
‘I am glad to hear it,’ said Jones, before casting another significant look at Compton, who seemingly still felt secure in his sense of complacency and godlike omnipotence. Only Marjory began to gnaw at her lip.
‘Can you identify the mask that you claim the defendant was wearing?’
Bennett nodded.
Jones walked over to the table where the mask was lying. He picked it up and held it out to the officer.
‘Is this it?’
The officer looked at it and nodded.
‘Are you quite sure?’
‘Positive,’ he confirmed.
Still holding the mask, Jones walked over to the jury.
‘Would you try this mask on for me please?’ he asked one of the younger jurors.
‘Objection. What is the point of this game?’ the prosecutor spluttered.
‘Overruled. I’m intrigued to see what Mr Jones is getting at,’ said the judge.
The young man tried to put the mask on.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t quite get it to fit,’ he admitted, after trying in vain to place the grotesque-looking wooden mask over his face.
Jones took it back and walked over to Amar.
‘Would you also try the mask on for me?’
Amar tried too – just as unsuccessfully.
‘This mask is made of rigid wood. It needs to fit perfectly, as it’s impossible to see through it otherwise. The eyeholes need to fit. The breathing holes need to fit.’ He turned Amar’s head to let the jurors see it in profile.
‘As you can see’ – Jones pointed to the contours of the mask – ‘it doesn’t fit.’
Another murmur passed through the courtroom.
‘Do you stand by your statement that you saw this man? I trust you are aware of the consequences of lying under oath – and I am prepared to insist that you be sworn in as a witness. Moreover, you are an officer of the Crown. That status alone would make the consequences facing you even more severe.’ Jones delivered his threat in a caustic tone.
By now, Bennett was drenched in sweat. The judge had noticed too. It was plain for all to see.
‘Do you stand by your statement, or would you like to reconsider the matter? Take a good look at Amar. It is easy, in the confusion of an affray, to make a mistake. You said yourself that it all happened so quickly. Are you still entirely sure that you saw this man?’ Jones demanded. He fixed his gaze on the jury as he spoke.
The lieutenant sought eye contact with Compton, and then thankfully lost his nerve. ‘No. I can’t be certain,’ he confessed.
The jurors exchanged meaningful looks among themselves.
Jones laughed confidently – though not arrogantly – before looking at Compton. ‘No further questions, Your Honour.’
Ella could see that Compton was incandescent with rage.
‘Next, we will call the defendant to the stand,’ announced the judge, once Bennett had shuffled back to his seat opposite the jury like a dog with its tail between its legs.
The prosecutor stepped forward and turned to Amar, who was now standing in the witness box beside the judge.
‘Let us discuss the second charge – that of high treason. You stand accused of being the ringleader of a collection of agitators and rebels whose goal it is to disrupt the peaceful rule of law in this country.’
Jones rolled his eyes again and looked encouragingly at Ella.
‘That isn’t true,’ said Amar – and because he didn’t have to lie, he sounded credible. He wasn’t the ringleader, because there was no ringleader, as Ella knew from Puteri.
‘We have a statement from the former detainee, Mohan bin Bhatak, which he made personally to the governor,’ the prosecutor declared.
Jones shot a baffled, quizzical look at Ella. He seemed to be worried now.
‘That can’t be true,’ she whispered to him.
‘So – do you stand by that claim and maintain your innocence?’ asked the prosecutor.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Amar, his head held high.
‘No further questions. I ask the high court to call the governor to the stand,’ the prosecutor requested, while Amar made his way back to the dock.
‘I knew nothing of this,’ said Jones to Ella.
‘Don’t worry. It won’t get that far,’ she answered.
Ella now sought eye contact with Marjory, who gave her a triumphant smile. But Ella planned to wipe it off her face. She quickly pulled out the document case and held it so that the witch couldn’t help but see it. With a certain satisfaction – but with trembling hands too – Ella pulled out the three pages from her father’s diary. She didn’t need to say anything – it was enough to simply wave the pages back and forth like a pendulum.
Marjory went deathly pale. Her eyes gaped as she stared at the document.
‘Governor Compton. Would you please come to the stand?’ The judge was growing impatient.
Compton was about to stand up when Marjory’s hand clawed at his arm. She whispered something in his ear.
Now it was Compton’s turn to stare at the three pages, which Ella held out towards them both – although she did so in such a way that it looked as if she were merely reviewing her notes. This time, she shot Compton a triumphant smile, and he too turned white with shock.
‘Governor Compton?’ asked the judge, by now somewhat confused.
Compton waved the prosecutor over and whispered to him.
When he had finished, the gaunt lawyer turned to face the judge. ‘Governor Compton no longer wishes to testify before the court. He should not have interviewed the prisoner, so it would be against due process under English law. It would serve no purpose for him to take the stand,’ explained the lawyer.
The judge scrutinised first Compton, then Jones, who gave him a knowing smile.
‘In that case, there is nothing for the jurors to decide. The charges are dismissed.’ Visibly irritated, he brought the trial to a close with a clap of his gavel.
Marjory stood up, staring blankly ahead, and hurried past Compton out of the courtroom.
Amar beamed. He looked as though he might leap from his seat at any moment and fall into Ella’s arms. Ella felt exactly the same, but she knew that the most difficult part still lay ahead of them – and judging by the hateful glare that Compton had given her before he stormed out of the court in a fury, it would likely be hell on earth.
CHAPTER 20
The air above the courthouse almost seemed to crackle as if there were a storm coming, even though the trial had ended well and Ella had been able to leave the building unmolested together with Amar and Jones.
Jones was still laughing at Compton’s loss of face. Everybody had noticed it, since the prosecutor’s reason for why Compton declined to give evidence was patently just an excuse.
‘What leverage did you have?’ Jones eventually enquired as they reached the steps at the front of the building.
Ell
a saw no reason not to tell him. ‘My father’s diary.’
Jones was baffled, and gave her a quizzical look.
‘An incriminating document. It was obvious to me that Marjory Foster egged Compton on to arrest Amar. The diary entries were found in her house, and the man who presumably used them to blackmail her over the fact that I am the illegitimate daughter of her late husband is now dead.’
Jones must have seen and heard many things throughout his career as a lawyer, but this still took him by surprise.
‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could have called Mrs Foster to the witness box too.’
‘I only came into possession of the papers yesterday, and to be honest, I never expected Compton to go so far as to commit perjury,’ Ella explained.
‘That was indeed an unusual course of action for a governor. I wonder what Marjory is holding over his head. After all, it was obvious that it was she who induced him not to speak,’ he mused.
Ella was wondering the same thing, but she put those thoughts to one side. There were more pressing matters to attend to right now.
‘Amar and I need to leave the country as soon as possible. I’m afraid it’ll be a few days before I can pay you for your services.’
‘There’s no need. My fees have already been paid,’ Jones answered.
Now it was Ella’s turn to look baffled. ‘I suppose your duty of confidentiality means you can’t tell me by whom?’
‘Not necessarily,’ Jones replied.
‘Was it Otto Ludwig?’ she asked.
‘I wouldn’t put it past Otto, but in this instance, it wasn’t him. Mary Bridgewater instructed me to send the bill to her.’
Ella was speechless.
Amar was every bit as astonished. ‘Why would she do that?’ he asked.
‘I’m afraid that’s connected to my other mandate, so . . .’ He said nothing more.
‘You aren’t permitted to share that information with me, I presume?’ Ella conjectured.