While Siddons outlined his case for the defence, Jasper watched the countenances of the jury for any signs of sympathy or disbelief. They all seemed intent on looking studious and grave, though, and he couldn't discern how their thoughts might be tending.

The story of Edwin being lured to his unknown grandmother's house by an opium dealer sounded unlikely, of course. But he had the evidence of her neighbour to corroborate the family connection, plus another of the cottage-dwellers had seen him loading up the cart, which meant that the location of the bones was not in question.

Whether or not the mysterious 'Mrs Johnson' was Jasper's mother, Siddons said, she had certainly lived on top of Drood's bones for upwards of five years. Impossible that she should not have known something about it.

But of course, this didn't exonerate Jasper. There was nobody to say that he hadn't been there himself that night.

"As I have said before, my Lord," said Siddons to the judge, "we are in some difficulties as to ascertaining the whereabouts of our witness. However, I have had some instruction from my client, and I wonder if you would allow me to call somebody who has not been listed."

The Judge gave Siddons a withering stare.

"Somebody who has not been listed? You mean you wish an adjournment while we try to find another witness? Most irregular."

"No, with your Honour's permission, there will be no need to adjourn. For the witness we seek to examine is in this very room."

Everybody looked curiously at each other and a low murmur started up around the gallery.

"Well, I suppose I have no objection to it, if the person in question is amenable. Call your witness."

"Thank you, my Lord. I call – and I'm afraid we don't know the name of his baptism – the young gentleman known as Deputy."

Deputy leapt up and looked around wildly, as if for an escape route.

"I don't know nuffink," he insisted, but Rosa left her seat and took his hand and spoke some low words to him. He was listening eagerly and Jasper was desperate to know what she might be saying. Whatever it was, she didn't finish it, for her complexion developed a nauseous greenish tinge and she clamped her hand over her mouth, bolting for the back stairs.

Amid the general consternation, Jasper spoke from the dock some words of explanation.

"She is with child."

At that, Deputy turned and stared at him, his face pale.

"All right," he said, leaning over the gallery rail and looking down over the assembly. "I'll do it. I'll answer your questions."

He came down to take the oath – the clerk having first established that he knew the Bible and was a Christian – and stared fiercely at Jasper throughout.

Jasper was going to have to conduct this cross-examination himself, as it dealt with material his counsel had no knowledge of, so he looked over at the Judge, who nodded at him, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Is somebody attending to my wife?"

"This is not part of the cross-examination, I take it?" said the Judge dryly. "I'm sure she is being taken care of. Please proceed to question your witness."

"Of course. She expects a child, you see, so I'm…"

"Mr Jasper! Proceed, or I will place you in contempt of court."

"Very well. Deputy – should I call you Deputy?"

"It's Mr Roker to you," he said, folding his arms.

"Mr Roker, then. We met, did we not, on one occasion earlier this year."

"Yes, we did. Not through any wish of mine, though. I'd have been happy never to see your mug again."

"Yes, be that as it may, perhaps you could tell the jury with whom you lodge at present."

"With Durdles."

"The stonemason?"

"Don't know any other Durdles around here, do you?"

"To whom did you open Durdles' door on that morning in April?"

"You know it."

"The jury does not."

"To you. And that lovely girl – Rosa, is it?"

"Mrs Jasper to you."

"Don't get narky with me, mister. You've picked the wrong lad to put the threats on."

But there was laughter in the courtroom at Jasper's neat inversion of Deputy's earlier hostility, and it spurred him on.

"What were you asked to do?"

"To get a key, and let you into the Sapsea vault."

Suddenly the courtroom was silent. The gentlemen of the jury leant forwards as one, keen not to miss a word.

"That's right. You came with us, didn't you, to the cathedral?"

"I did. Couldn't risk losing one of Durdles' keys. He'd have me…sorry. Nearly forget meself there. But I'd be in hot water, any rate."

"And who was it who unlocked the vault?"

"Why, it was me, of course."

"And what did you find in there?"

"Well, nothing much. Just the usual, you know. The tombs and whatnot. Some cobwebs."

"But no bones?"

"No, nothing like that."

"So you are quite clear that there were no bones in the Sapsea vault?"

"I've said so, ain't I?"

"Thank you, Dep―, that is, Mr Roker."

"That it?"

"My, er, learned friend may have some questions for you."

Mr Cartwright took his cue and gave Deputy a long look.

"This is irregular and I have had no opportunity to prepare, but I feel compelled to ask…you and the prisoner do not seem to be on amiable terms. Why is that?"

"Objection!" said Jasper, but the Judge waved his hand.

"Your brief legal career is now at an end, Mr Jasper, I suggest you allow your counsel to take things from this point."

"'E tried to strangle me," said Deputy indignantly. "I swear on my life. He had me by the throat and I thought I was a goner."

Consternation grew into uproar.

Jasper shut his eyes and slumped forwards on the dock bar. A cold sweat broke out above his upper lip and the noise around him sounded as if it came from afar, waves crashing in his head. He was going to hang. He might as well accept it. He was going to hang.

The Judge hammered his gavel with a will while the Clerk called most strenuously for order, which slowly returned to the court.

"Mr Roker, you have made a serious accusation. Did you report this alleged assault at the time?"

"No. I'm a workus boy. He was a choirmaster. Who'd believe me over him? There weren't no point. But he did it."

"Surely there would have been bruises?"

"I was always covered in bruises, mister. He'd say I'd got it roughhousing in the street with my pals. Come on, don't deny it. Nobody takes no notice of a boy like me."

"Then it's a poor state of affairs," said Mr Cartwright sombrely, "when a child can be half-killed in the street and find no recourse to law. A poor state of affairs indeed."

The appalled hush which greeted this remark lent an air tacit agreement to the atmosphere.

"So," resumed Cartwright, "we know that there were no human remains in that vault at that time. Not a startling revelation, as we know that those bones had been at the house of this woman, Mrs Johnson, who may or may not have been the prisoner's mother. And, thanks to this young man, we have made a discovery of a much more valuable nature. The discovery of the prisoner's wickedly violent nature."

Rosa had by now returned to the courtroom, looking stricken by the changed air in the room and the way the wave of opinion had turned so completely against her husband.

"Oh, but he is not guilty," she cried. "He did not kill Edwin."

"Young woman," said the judge, "I shall commit you for contempt of court if you cannot hold your tongue."

"Leave her be," said Jasper hotly.

"And you I most certainly shall commit, before I find myself in the same position as that unfortunate young man in the witness box once did."

Jasper threw up his hands in frustrated ire, but he knew it would be no use to speak again. Instead he exchanged an anguished look with Rosa.

"Thank you, Mr Roker," said Cartwright smoothly. "You may stand down."

But Deputy did not move from his position in the box. Instead, he looked between Rosa and Jasper, and then at the judge, and then at his feet, and finally he cleared his throat.

Jasper forgot his anger and fixed Deputy with a look of astonished curiosity. For the boy looked genuinely haunted and fearful.

"I…the thing is…I don't want to get into trouble."

"Trouble?" said the Judge. "Have you been entirely honest with us?"

"Everything I've said's been the truth, I swear. But…if I tell you I know something…but I never told nobody…will I get into trouble?"

"What is it that you know, boy?" asked the Judge, impatient now. "You have sworn to tell the whole truth. You will be answerable to a higher power than this court if you withhold information necessary to the due process of justice."

"I…s'pose you're right. Oh Lor'. I don't want to go down to the flames. And if he hangs, she suffers…oh. I have to tell it. I can't keep it under me 'at no longer."

Jasper literally quivered with anticipation. Rosa's eyes were fit to pop from her head.

"Thing is, your lordship, your honour. I know 'e didn't do it."

The collective intake of breath was like an inverse gust of wind around the room.

"Oh, Deputy," cried Rosa.

"How?" exclaimed Jasper, clawing at the dock bar as if he meant to vault over it and repeat his earlier misdemeanour with Deputy's throat. "Why have you said nothing?"

"Mr Jasper!" snapped the Judge. "Guilty or not of murder, I am quite tired of your contempt for this court. Desist from this behaviour or I shall have you taken down to the cells to compose yourself."

Easy enough for the Judge to say such things, thought Jasper with incredulity. Would he be so calm if he had just had the threat of certain death lifted?

"I'm sorry I never said nothing," said Deputy, clearly on the verge of tears. "I just thought if someone was going to swing for it, it might as well be you. But now I know you've up and married that lovely girl…I don't want her baby to 'ave no father…"

"Never mind that," said the Judge. "State your evidence for this assertion that the prisoner at the bar did not commit murder."

Deputy made an effort to control his breathing then spoke, looking all the time at Rosa.

"Christmas Eve, there was that storm. And I wanted to be out in it. I didn't want to be watching it through the window bars at the workhouse. I'm for the outdoors, me. When something's going on, I like to take a look at it."

Jasper felt as if his collar was strangling him. He put two fingers in the top and tugged at it, trying to free his airway.

"I thought I might go and look for Durdles. He didn't want my usual service, on account of its bein' Christmas Eve, but I thought he might want company all the same."

"Your usual service?" said the Judge.

"That's right – someone mentioned it before. I used to stone him home. Make sure he didn't fall asleep in the graveyard, you see. But 'e didn't have to work Christmas Day, so he could stay out as late as he liked."

"So you went looking for Mr Durdles?" The Judge asked. "And what time of night was this?"

"Past workhouse bedtime. But I knew all the dodges. I 'eard the cathedral bells chime the 'alf hour as I walked through the Close, so I think it was half past ten or thereabouts. I couldn't find Durdles so I took a stroll up the High Street and followed the Waits around town. I even tried to join in with 'em, but I ain't no singer and they wouldn't let me."

Scattered laughter greeted this statement.

"The storm got too powerful for 'em and they fetched up in one o' the public houses by the marketplace. Well, I couldn't go in there, could I? So I thought I'd go for a walk up by the cathedral and maybe down by the sea, cos that'd be the best place to see the waves crashing and whatnot. It was getting late by then – about midnight, maybe."

"This tells us nothing about the accused man's guilt or lack thereof," the judge reminded him.

"No, I know, but I was getting to it. If I wanted to get from the High Street to the cathedral, I had to pass underneath his gatehouse. Just as I was getting into the arch, I heard voices, so I hid myself in a corner and waited. Two young gentlemen came out."

"Who were these two young gentlemen?"

"Well, I didn't know either of 'em, but I'd suppose they was the dead bloke and the one from Ceylon."

"You saw them leave Mr Jasper's lodgings?"

"I saw their backs. They walked on towards the cathedral. They looked and sounded a little bit the worse for drink, and I suppose they must've been, cos they didn't think to shut the door after 'em."

"They left the lower door open?"

"Not just the lower door. I went over and peeked inside, and I could see a crack of light at the top of the stair, like the door was a little bit ajar."

"I see. And what did you do then?"

"Well, it gave me an idea, you see. Cos I wanted my revenge on that feller there. He needn't think he could get away with what he did to me. I decided I was going to give 'im a proper fright."

The courtroom was silent now, every eye trained on the youngster.

"I 'ad a box of firecrackers what'd fallen off the back of a barrow. I was going to use 'em instead of stones on Durdles. Thought he might get less bruises, see. And I was a bit worried I might kill him one of these nights, without meaning to. I thought I'd creep up to the top of Jasper's stairs and chuck a couple of 'em in there. Serve 'im right, I thought."

"A reckless course of action, but do please proceed," advised the Judge.

"So I did it. I went up the steps and threw in the crackers, but nothing 'appened. I couldn't understand it. No shouts, no leaping up, no rushing to the door. I waited on the bottom step, ready to run, but I couldn't tell if he'd heard 'em or not. Well, it struck me that perhaps I'd frighted him to death. It can happen. I've heard stories. I thought, best go back up there and check."

"And what did you find?"

"He was in his armchair. I thought he might be dead. I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not and he had that whiteness about the face, you know. I went a bit closer and I saw he'd dropped something on the floor. It was a bottle of laudanum, a big 'un. There was a glass on its side on the table beside him, with spilled wine dripping on the floor too. He was that corned, nothing was going to wake him."

"By which you intend us to understand that the prisoner was in a state of advanced intoxication?"

"Very advanced, your Honour. Worse'n Durdles. It'd have taken a bloomin' rock to shift 'im from that chair."

"So you left the room?"

"After I left me calling card, yes. Which I'd better not describe with ladies present in the courtroom, but let's just say his water jug had a different kind of water in it when he woke up the next morning…"

"That was you!" Jasper could not help expostulating. He had thought he must have done it himself, in his deliriously opiated state.

"I went back down the steps," continued Deputy, "and I looked out into the storm. I saw two people walking up towards the gatehouse so I hid myself in the stairwell till they passed. But one of 'em got hold of the outside door and seemed about to open it. I thought 'e was coming straight in and I was going to be found out. But the lady 'e was with persuaded him to go with her, and I watched 'em pass through the Gatehouse and turn on to the High Street."

Jasper shut his eyes, overwhelmed almost to the point of tears. What Deputy said tallied exactly with Princess Puffer's story.

"Could you describe the pair?" asked the Judge.

"Again, I didn't see 'em too well, but he was a young feller, bit flash, fair-haired, unsteady on his pins. She was a lot older, a drab in a shawl, I couldn't tell you much more'n that."

"What did you do after that?"

"The storm was so bad I was scared to go out again. A tree fell right across the other side of the path and there was branches and whatnot flying everywhere. I decided I was safest bedding down on the bottom step there until it died down."

"So you slept there at the Gatehouse?"

"I can't say as I did, no. I didn't sleep. But I spent the night there. When the storm dropped it was seven or half-past and I thought I'd best get back to the workhouse if I wanted my Christmas breakfast. I crept up the stair and had a look at him before I went, but he was still dead to the world."

"In other words, you have sworn to us that John Jasper spent the entire night of his nephew's disappearance asleep, under the influence of heavy narcotics, in his lodging house?"

"Yes. I couldn't have been him. And I'm sorry I didn't come forward earlier, truly I am. I hope you can forgive it."

"Young man, I'm inclined to be lenient with you, but you must consider that your silence, had you not broken it, could well have led to a grave miscarriage of justice and the death of an innocent man."

"I know, your Honour." Deputy's voice, so chirpy and confident, was now a whisper.

The Judge did not quite dismiss the case, accepting the Prosecution's contention that Drood could have been killed after Christmas Eve, but in his summing up to the jury he made it clear that there was no clear evidence of murder at all and much to suggest that Jasper's version of events was the correct one.

The jury didn't stay out for long but, as far as Jasper was concerned, it might as well have been a thousand years. He waited in the downstairs cell, eyes shut, far away from the muttering and jostling of his fellow prisoners, imagining the drop. The drop, then the darkness. Where would he go after that? Would he ever do enough to expiate his transgressions? Was there enough goodness and charity in the world for that?

He thought of Rosa, bilious and terrified, facing an uncertain future for herself and her child. How had he put her through this? Why could he seem to do nothing but torture her? She should have heeded Helena Landless's imprecations and turned from him.

As if he would have let that happen.

Somebody called down the staircase and the marshal took Jasper's upper arm, preparatory to helping him to his feet.

"Verdict's in," he said gruffly. "Look lively."

Jasper had rarely felt less lively in his life, but he made the arduous journey up the stairs for the final time and limped into the dock once more.

Rosa, in the gallery, gripped the brass hand rail and gazed down at him with eyes that seemed to communicate every strong emotion in the human lexicon. Faith, terror, anguish, love. Most of all, love.

If he was going to hang, at least he had been loved. And so loved, by such a woman.

It was enough to bring a twitch to his lips, but it remained there only until the foreman of the jury rose to his feet.

"Have you reached a verdict upon which you are all agreed?"

"We have."

"And do you find the prisoner, John Jasper, guilty or not guilty of murder?"