"Go ahead, then. What is your startling new evidence?"

"I'm not sure it's in the nature of evidence at all, Judge. But I think I've uncovered an interesting avenue of exploration. If you could put these pictures up on the big screen..."

They were projected, and I felt a stab in my heart. It was four pictures of my father. Publicity stills, smiling, his best profile showing. Pictures I hadn't seen in many years.

There were some gasps, and a building buzz of whispered conversation. I didn't know what was going on.

"I was just looking at these today," Hildy went on. "As you know, I haven't seen Sparky... er, Kenneth in many years. The last time I saw him he was twenty-nine, but still in the body of a teenager. When he was arrested two days ago he had the appearance of an old man, King Lear. I don't imagine that in the seventy years of his exile he has worn what we might call 'his own' face many times, if at all."

"Never, Your Honor," I confirmed.

"I suspected that," Hildy said. "He was unlikely to be recognized as Sparky; Sparky never grew beyond eight years old. But the psychology of the fugitive, if nothing else, made me think he would shun his natural appearance. Until today."

"Yes, I see what you mean," said the Judge. He might have, but I still didn't. I had been commanded by the court to abandon all artifices for my appearance in the court, true enough. When I did that, I saw a face in the mirror that very closely resembled my father.

"The picture in the upper right," said Hildy, "is not John Valentine, but his son, Kenneth, taken off the video feed from this courtroom not ten minutes ago."

I looked at it dubiously. I had to take her word for it. I couldn't have picked it out among the four, except that I now noticed that "John Valentine" was wearing clothes identical to what I was wearing.

"There's a very strong family resemblance," the Judge agreed.

"I think it's more than that, Judge. A lot more. I think this man, Kenneth Valentine, is John Valentine."

This would have been the point, in an ordinary drama, for the judge to bang on his gavel and shout for "order in the court!" The Judge simply let the outburst of shock from the audience play itself out. Toby lifted his head, wondering if it was time for him to go on. Then he went back to sleep. The next thing we all could hear was Hildy raising her voice.

"Judge, I'd like to request that you compare the DNA pattern of the late John Valentine with that of his son."

There was no need to order samples taken or tests made. Everything was already present in the CC's memory. After a pause of a few seconds the Judge spoke again.

"They are identical, as I suspect you knew they would be."

"Not until a short while ago," Hildy said. She didn't mention a specific time interval, and I wondered if anyone else would notice that. But whatever she was up to, I knew she was too careful to break any laws. "But I did recently speak with someone who confirmed my suspicion. He's here in this courtroom today, and he has something to tell you. Mr. Edwin Booth Valentine."

Uncle Ed? Here in the courtroom? Surely I'd have seen the forklift needed to move him about.

But instead of a human mountain, it was only a foothill that rose from two seats in the audience (and that must have cost Hildy a pretty penny). Uncle Ed was a shadow of his former self; I doubt he was much over five hundred pounds. He lumbered carefully down the aisle and once more there was a growing murmur, this time one of recognition. I heard whispers: "Ed Ventura. That's Ed Ventura." To which many of the younger observers must have been replying, "Ed who?"

Ah, but they'd know soon. This was building into a circus of monumental proportions. An ancient patricide, involving Luna's most beloved moppet. Seventy years on the run. Dramatic backstage arrest. Luna's best criminal-defense attorney versus King City's brightest rising political star. Last-minute genetic revelations I still hadn't grasped. And now, it wouldn't be a circus without an elephant! A famous face from the Old Stars' Burial Ground, grown to enormous size (and if only they knew; but they would, they would, when the reporters started digging).

It had Hildy Johnson's fingerprints all over it.

Even the new Uncle Ed, a shadow of his former self, would not fit into any of the chairs around the table. This didn't seem to bother him. He just stood near the railing, waiting. If he was in any way upset at this public revelation of his love affair with corpulence he never showed it.

"John Valentine was my brother," he said, in his commanding baritone. "We were not... close. There were many disagreements over the years, primarily centering around my career, which he viewed as selling out the craft of acting. He wasn't above accepting a 'loan' from time to time, though. I knew I'd never see any of it again, but I was making lots of money and... well, that has nothing to do with this case.

"I had not seen him for several years when he appeared at my door one day with an infant child. A boy. He had no very convincing story as to the origins of this child, but I had my fears. You see, we had a sister, Sarah. Sarah was not... very bright, I'm afraid. And not very worldly. In fact, she was quite unstable. Our father was a demanding perfectionist, and could be quite a brutal man. It scarred all three of us, but Sarah was the least equipped to survive it. She was left emotionally crippled, unable to function very well in the world. But she had her older brother, John, who protected her from what he could. John became her emotional anchor, her very reason for living.

"Not to put too fine a point to it, they were lovers."

He paused, and wiped at his eyes. I began to get an idea of what this was costing him. What it might cost me I'd have to wait to find out. I was feeling rather numb, to tell the truth.

I had stopped asking about my mother quite early in my life. I had my fantasies, like any child growing up without a mother. I think I'll just keep those private, if you don't mind. Precious little else in my life is private now that my origins have been turned into one of the most widely watched soap operas in the history of Luna.

My father's answers to my questions had always been vague. He told me my mother was dead, but never told me how she died. My impression was that it was too painful for him to talk about it.

He said her name had been Sara. No H. Should I have made the connection with the mysterious aunt that my father never talked about either? I don't know. It's a common enough name.

"Pardon me, Judge," Ed went on. "I loved her, too. More than John, in some ways, but I'm afraid I never had the nerve to stand up to our father, either for myself or for her, until I made my final break with the family and took the part that led... oh, no one wants to hear about my old career."

He was wrong, and his films were shortly to be resurrected and shown endlessly, until all the fuss died down. But he was right that the Judge had no interest in it.

"Sarah clung even more tightly to John after I left. I'm afraid I'm old-fashioned; I don't really approve, though I know that brother/sister incest has gained more acceptance in society since my youth. No one advocates natural procreation from such a union, of course... and I don't believe that is what happened here."

"Sir, do you have any actual evidence to submit to the court?" the Judge asked.

"No, sir, I don't. Other than the incontrovertible news that Kenneth is not John's son, but his clone. Or what we used to call his identical twin. I'll point out that if I hadn't come forward, this court would never have discovered the nature of the relationship."

"This is true," the Judge said. And why should it have? I've heard criticism of the Judge over this point, but it makes no sense. Why didn't the Judge compare the DNA earlier? Well, why didn't it compare my DNA with yours, or Toby's, or Banquo's ghost? Because there was no reason to, and even the CC can only do so much.