A Breach of Promise

"Sir Oliver!" McKeever recalled his attention.

"My lord?"

"Did you say you had also requested the doctor to attend?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then would you call him."

"Yes, my lord. Dr. Godwin."

There was instant rustling and creaking in the gallery as a score of people craned around to watch as the doors opened.

Godwin proved to be a sturdy man with dark hair and the music of the Welsh valleys in his voice, hi total silence from the crowd and from the jury, he swore to his name and professional status, then awaited Rathbone's questions.

"Dr. Godwin, were you summoned to Great Street at about eleven o'clock yesterday evening?"

"I was."

"By whom, and for what purpose?"

"By Mr. Isaac Wolff, to attend his friend Killian Melville, who had apparently died."

"And when you examined Mr. Melville, was he indeed dead?"

"Yes sir, he was-at least… at that point I made only a cursory examination. Very cursory."

There was absolute silence in the room.

Everyone was u

McKeever leaned forward, listening intently, frowning as if he did not completely understand.

"Your choice of words is curious," Rathbone pointed out. "Are you suggesting that later examination proved that Mr. Melville was not actually dead?" He asked it only to clarify. He entertained no hope of error.

"Oh no. Killian Melville was dead, I am afraid, poor soul," Godwin assured him, nodding and pursing his lips.

"Can you say from what cause, Dr. Godwin?"

"Not yet, not for certain, like. But it was poison of some sort, and very probably of the type of bellado

"Thank you. I have nothing else to ask you at this point."

"No-no, I daresay not." Godwin stood quite still. "But I can tell you something I imagine you did not know."

The room seemed to crackle as if there were thunder in the air.

"Yes?"

"Killian Melville was a woman."

No one moved.

A reporter broke a pencil in half and it sounded like gunfire.

A woman screamed.

"I-I beg your pardon," Rathbone said, swallowing and choking.

"Killian Melville was a woman," Godwin repeated clearly.

"You mean he was-" McKeever was startled.

"No, my lord," Godwin corrected. "I mean she was… in every way a perfectly normal woman."

Zillah Lambert slid into a faint.

There were gasps around the gallery. One of the jurors used an expletive he would not have wished to have owned he even knew.

Delphine Lambert gave a scream and jerked her hand up to her mouth. Slowly her face turned scarlet with embarrassment and rage. She stared fixedly ahead of her, refusing to risk meeting anyone else's eyes. She had been completely confounded. It was obvious to anyone who looked at her. Perhaps that, more than anything else, a

No one seemed to have noticed Zillah as she slumped momentarily insensible.

Sacheverall at last reacted. He scrambled to his feet, his arms waving.

"Hardly normal, my lord! Dr. Godwin makes a mockery of the word. Killian Melville was in no way normal. Man or woman."

"I meant medically speaking!" Godwin snapped with surprising ferocity. "Physically she was exactly like any other woman."

"Then why did she dress like a man," Sacheverall shouted, waving his arms, "behave like a man, and in every way affect to be a man? For God's sake, she even proposed marriage to a woman!"

"No, she didn't!" Rathbone was on his feet too, shouting back. "That is precisely my case! She didn't! Mrs. Lambert was so keen to have her daughter make what seemed an excellent match that she assumed Melville's affection and regard for Miss Lambert was romantic, whereas it was, in fact, exactly what Melville claimed it was: a profound friendship!" He spoke without having thought of it first, something he had sworn never to do in court, but even as he heard his voice he was certain it was the truth. Now, with the clarity of hindsight, it all seemed so apparent. Melville's passion and his silence- her silence-were all so easily understood. Of course he- she-had laughed when Rathbone had asked if the relationship with Isaac Wolff was homosexual. He remembered now how oblique Melville's answers had been. He remembered a score of things, tiny things, the burning level eyes, the fairness of Melville's skin, the small, strong hands, a lack of masculinity in movement and gesture. The husky voice could have been man's or woman's.

He thought ruefully that that must have cost an effort, an aching throat to keep the pitch permanently so u

She must have enjoyed Zillah's company, one of her own sex to befriend. No wonder the relationship was peculiarly precious to her.

Sacheverall was furious, but for once he had no ready answer.

"She was still u

"She was perverted, perhaps insane-"

"She was not-" Rathbone began angrily, but Sacheverall cut across him.

"She took advantage of Mr. Lambert's generosity for the most obvious reasons, to advance her career, if you can call it that!" He jabbed his finger in the air; his voice was almost a shriek. "She deceived him, lied to him at every turn-then deceived Miss Lambert and abused her feelings for the same crass, greedy reasons, and…"

Zillah was recovered now, sitting motionless, the tears streaming down her cheeks, although her face did not twist or crumple. She had the curious gift of being able to weep and remain beautiful.

Barton Lambert rose to his feet.

"Be quiet!" he commanded so loudly that Sacheverall stopped in the middle of his sentence, his face slack with surprise. "He dressed as a man, in that he did deceive me," Lambert went on, lowering his voice only slightly. "I never for an instant suspected he was not one. But I was not deceived in his…" He corrected himself: "Her skill. He was still one of the finest architects in Europe, and I'll swear you'll not see a better one in your lifetime!"

Sacheverall burst into laughter, derisive, jeering, an ugly sound.

McKeever slammed his gavel down like a gunshot.

"Mr. Sacheverall!" All his passionate distaste of the man was in his face. "Control yourself, sir! This is not a humorous matter!"

Sacheverall stopped laughing instantly.

"It is not, my lord! It is disgusting!" His wide mouth curled exaggeratedly. He still waved his arms as he spoke. "Every decent person in this room must be as confused and offended as I am by this u

"For heaven's sake, sit down!" It was Zillah who hissed at him, glaring through eyes still filled with tears.

He leaned forward, staring at her intently. "My dear Zillah." He lowered his voice until it was tender, almost intimate. "I can hardly imagine the suffering you must be enduring. You have been most cruelly abused. You are the victim in all this insanity, this twisted and terrible masquerade." He moved one hand as if to touch her, then changed his mind. "I ca