"That's what he tells me; what do you want me to tell him?"

"If I had my druthers I'd tell him to go fuck himself, but I guess I'd better ask my client first."

"The fee is not out of line, Stone. After all, you're asking a top-flight barrister to fly halfway across the world on short notice and to stay indefinitely. A top New York man would cost at least that. Oh, by the way, he'll want to bring a clerk with him; that's seventy-five pounds an hour."

"And he'll want to fly first class, too, I suppose."

"Of course."

"Tell him you'll get back to him after I've talked to my client."

"Okay. When will you want him?"

"We'll probably get a trial date set today, and it could be soon; things move quickly here."

"I'll tell him. See you." Eggers hung up.

Stone turned to Thomas. "Well, I hope her husband turns out to have had a hell of a lot of money."

Thomas Hardy pulled into the Government House parking lot simultaneously with Sir Leslie Hewitt, who was driving an ancient Morris Minor station wagon festooned with rotting wood paneling.

"Good morning, Leslie," Stone said, getting out of Thomas's car.

"Good morning, Stone, Thomas," Sir Leslie called back. He reached into the rear of the little car and removed a long plastic garment bag and a small suitcase, then led the way into the building.

They signed in to the jail, were searched for weapons, then were led to a small cell that held a table and four chairs.

A moment later Allison Manning was led into the cell by a black matron. She was pale and rumpled and seemed to have had little sleep. She went to Stone and put her head on his shoulder. "I am so glad to see you," she whimpered.

Stone patted her back awkwardly, then introduced Sir Leslie, "Sir Leslie is going to represent you at ithe hearing and apply for bail," he said.

She shook the banister's hand. "Thank you so much for being here, Sir Leslie," she said.

"I am happy to represent you," the little man replied. "Please sit down, and I'll tell you what is going to happen this morning." Everyone sat down, and Sir Leslie continued. "This will be a short meeting of the court at which the presiding judge will ask the prosecutor if he has sufficient evidence to bring a charge of murder to trial. Then we will ask for bail, and I'm told you have a yacht which might serve as your security."

"Wait a minute," Stone said. "Won't the prosecution have to present evidence of the crime? I was hoping we might get a dismissal."

"Oh, no," Sir Leslie replied. "The judge will simply take Sir Winston's affidavit that he has enough evidence for trial; it's all very gentlemanly."

"It's all very unheard of," Stone said.

"Stone, you must understand that although our court system is based on English law, over the years, in the interest of efficiency, certain procedures that the court thinks superfluous have been pared away from the process."

"Superfluous? This court thinks that the presenting of evidence in a preliminary hearing is superfluous?"

"I'm afraid so," Sir Leslie said. "I assure you that if Sir Winston wants this to go to trial, it will go to trial, no matter what evidence might be presented, and no matter how we might challenge that evidence."

"Leslie," Stone said, "this crime-I mean the alleged crime-occurred on the high seas, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Can't we ask for a dismissal on jurisdictional grounds?"

"Oh, no," Sir Leslie said. "You see, many of the cases tried in our courts over the past two hundred years were based on crimes that occurred at sea. The local rule is that the defendant will be tried in the jurisdiction of the first port he puts into after the act."

Stone nodded dumbly.

"Now, Mrs.Manning," Sir Leslie continued, "I understand you have a yacht which might be used to secure your bail, is that correct?"

"Yes," she replied.

"What is the value of the yacht?"

"I don't really know," she said. "I'm sure it's expensive."

Stone spoke up. "A minimum of a million and a half dollars American."

"Oh, that should be quite sufficient. And where does the yacht lie?"

"In English Harbour."

"Good, good."

"Leslie," Stone said, "Mrs.Manning will need to live aboard the yacht until this matter is disposed of."

"I'm sure His Lordship would agree to that."

"Who?"

"The judge, Lord Cornwall."

"Oh."

"Stone, did you ever see the film Witness for the Prosecution?"

"Yes."

"Well, that is a pretty good model for how court is I expect you've seen other such films as well."

"Yes, I suppose so. Oh, Allison, I brought you some things." He shoved the duffel across the table. I couldn't find a…I hope these are all right.

Allison held up the dress and looked at it. "Well, at least you didn't bring the sequined cocktail dress."

Sir Leslie opened his garment bag and removed two black robes, handing one to Stone. "You'd better get into this."

Stone stood up and put on the robe; it was ridiculously small on him.

"And this," Sir Leslie said, opening his small case. He handed Stone a wig.

"You can't be serious," Stone said, regarding the thing at arm's length.

"Oh, yes, quite serious," Sir Leslie said. "On second thought, just carry it; don't put it on."

"Good," Stone said. "I'll carry it."

Thomas put a hand over his face and laughed quietly.

CHAPTER 9

Allison was taken away by the matron, and Stone, Sir Leslie, and Thomas left the jail, walked upstairs, and found the courtroom. Thomas took a front row seat, and Sir Leslie led Stone to the defense table. Sir Winston and another man, probably his supporting attorney, were already seated at the prosecution table. Various people milled around the room until the bailiff stood and shouted for all to stand. A moment later a red-gowned, bewigged black man entered from a side door and took the bench. He was middle-aged, tall and thin, with short, graying hair under his gray wig.

"Be seated," the judge said. "Bring up the prisoner."

Stone turned and watched as Allison came up from a hidden stairway and entered the dock. She had pulled back her hair, and in her fresh dress looked quite normal.

"Madam, would you like a chair?" the judge asked.

"Thank you, yes, Your Lordship," she replied, giving him a grateful smile.

That's it, Stone thought, pour on the charm for the judge; wouldn't be the first time that had worked.

"Sir Winston," the judge said, "do you have a request for this court?"

Sir Winston stood and handed a folder to the bailiff. "Thank you, Your Lordship, yes. The government petitions this court for the trial on a charge of murder of one Allison Ames Manning, now present in the dock. We certify that we have sufficient evidence to bring this case to trial and to convict the defendant."

The judge accepted the folder, flipped through it for a moment, and addressed the middle distance. "All is in order; who will appear for the prosecution?"

"I will, Your Lordship," Sir Winston replied, "assisted by Henry Porter."

The judge turned to the court reporter. "Write down that Sir Winston Sutherland and Mr. Henry Porter will appear for the prosecution." He looked over at the defense table. "And who will act for the defense?"

"I will, Your Lordship," Sir Leslie said, standing, "and I request to be assisted by Mr.Stone Barrington." He turned to Stone and whispered, "Stand up."

Stone stood, feeling foolish in the tight robe, the wig in his hand.

"I do not recognize Mr.Barrington," the judge said.

"Your Lordship, Mr.Barrington is an American barrister, a prominent member of the New York bar. I request that he be admitted to the St.Marks bar for the duration of this action, so that I might have his advice."