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“You have described some of the most terrible suffering any of us here has heard,” Rathbone began. “Did you describe these things also to Dr. Joel Lambourn?”
“Yes, I did,” she said simply. “I took ’im an’ I showed ’im.”
“And what was Dr. Lambourn’s reaction?” he asked, looking up at Agatha again.
“ ’E were sick,” she answered. “Looked like a man with the ague. At first ’e were just revolted, like anyone would be, then as we saw more, ’e got gray in the face an’ I were afraid ’e were going to ’ave a seizure or an ’eart attack. I even fetched ’im brandy.”
“And that revived him?”
“Not a lot. ’E looked like a man as ’ad seen death in front of ’im. Reckon as perhaps ’e ’ad, save it weren’t more’n a few days before ’e were found with ’is wrists cut, poor sod.” Her language was coarse, but the pity in her face, even the grief, was too powerful to belittle or ignore.
Rathbone deliberately took a risk, but time was pressing hard on him. “Did he seem to you suicidal?”
“The doctor?” she said incredulously. “Don’t be a fool! ’E were ’ell-bent on stoppin’ it, whatever it cost. Never reckoned as it’d cost ’im ’is life. Not ter even think of ’is wife too.”
“Are you referring to Zenia Gadney?”
“Never ’eard of ’er, till now. I meant Dinah. An’ if yer think she killed ’im yer dafter than them as is in Bedlam chained ter the walls an’ ’owlin’ at the moon.”
Rathbone controlled the slightly hysterical laughter that welled up inside him.
“I do not think so, Miss Nisbet. Nor do I think she killed Miss Gadney. I think Dinah Lambourn guessed some of this. Then when Zenia Gadney was murdered, she allowed herself to be accused, even adding to her appearance of guilt by telling a lie she knew would very quickly be found out.”
He hesitated only a moment. “She did this, risking her own life, so this court could discover and expose the truth. That is a truly remarkable love, a loyalty beyond death. I thank you, Miss Nisbet, for your courage in coming here to tell us of horrors I am sure you would far rather not relive. Please wait there in case Mr. Coniston has anything to ask you.”
He returned to his seat, wondering what Coniston would do, and if Pendock would support him if he objected.
Coniston rose slowly. He walked out into the center of the floor with even more grace than usual. Rathbone did not know him well enough to be certain if that was a mark of excess of confidence, or a time-wasting maneuver because he lacked confidence.
As soon as Coniston spoke, he knew it was the latter. All his original certainty had evaporated, but it was a good mask, nonetheless. The jury would not read him.
“Miss Nisbet,” he began courteously, “you have seen some shocking and very dreadful things. I respect you since they so clearly move your compassion, and your will to help and minister to the sick.” He moved two or three steps to the left and then turned. “In all this horror, did you see the face of any man responsible for the sale of opium, and the needles to administer it into the blood? Are you certain you would even recognize him if you saw him again, unconnected to his trade?”
Rathbone saw the look of confusion in Agatha’s face. He rose to his feet.
“My lord, Miss Nisbet has not stated that she would remember him, or indeed that she ever knew his name. All she said was that Dr. Lambourn had a powerful and extremely distressed reaction to her story and behaved as if he knew who it was.”
“You are quite correct, Sir Oliver,” Pendock agreed. He turned to Coniston. “Perhaps it would be simpler, Mr. Coniston, if you were merely to ask the witness if she believes she would recognize the man again, were she to see him, here or elsewhere.”
Coniston’s jaw clenched, but he obeyed.
Agatha answered simply. “I never saw ’im, far as I know. But-” She stopped abruptly.
“But …?” Coniston asked quickly.
“But that in’t no use,” she answered, clearly lying.
Coniston drew breath to ask a further question, then changed his mind. “Thank you, Miss Nisbet,” he said, turning and walking back toward his table. “Oh! Just one more thing, did Dr. Lambourn tell you that he knew who this man was, or that he was acquainted with him, that he would challenge him, ruin him, see him in prison? Anything like that?”
It was a gamble, and even the jury seemed to be aware of it. The silence was intense.
Rathbone rose again. “My lord, perhaps one question at a time might be clearer, both for Miss Nisbet and for the jury?”
“Indeed,” Pendock agreed. “Mr. Coniston, if you please?”
Coniston’s face colored deeply, and his jaw was clenched so tight the muscles in it bulged.
“My lord.” There was the slightest edge of sarcasm in his acquiescence. “Miss Nisbet, did Dr. Lambourn say that he knew this man you say sells opium for profit?”
