“Certainly not,” Hewitt replied, looking around the courtroom. He rose to his feet and bowed to the bench, then, ignoring the gallery, turned his full attention to the jury. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said pleasantly. Two or three of them nodded in response. “I trust Sir Winston has not clouded your minds,” he said with a chuckle. “The defense has quite a different view of his so-called evidence, as you might imagine, and as you will come to see during the course of this trial.”

He indicated Allison with a warm smile. “Here we have a young woman who, with her much-loved husband, set off on the adventure of a lifetime, sailing across the Atlantic from America to Europe, just the two of them. This is not the act of two people who do not love each other—to be confined for weeks at a time at sea with only each other for company. This was a positive act, showing that these two people were happy together. You will hear from her own lips how they enjoyed their adventure and how, on the voyage back to the Americas, her husband suddenly fell ill and died, struck with an illness about which he had been warned by his doctors, but which he had taken none of the prescribed steps to prevent. You will hear how his death endangered the life of his young wife and how with courage and fortitude she managed to sail a large yacht alone across the sea, to make landfall on our island.”

Sir Leslie cleared his throat and rearranged his robes. “Finally,” he said, “when this trial has been concluded, you will see how this charge of murder is spurious and should never have been brought.” He gestured toward Sir Winston. “You will wonder at the motives of the prosecution in bringing it. And you will have the opportunity to set things right, to return this dear young woman to freedom and her native country, to live out her life as best she can without the sorely missed companionship of her beloved husband.” With a flourish he bowed to the bench, returned to the defense table, and sat down.

Not bad, Stone thought, for a periodically senile old man who had recently been asleep in the courtroom. While it may not have been all he had wished, Hewitt’s opening was at least the equal of Sir Winston’s, maybe even a little better. He was relieved that Sir Winston had not mentioned any witnesses or evidence in his opening statement that the defense didn’t know about. The playing field was level, and that was as much as he could wish for at this point.

The judge turned to the prosecution table. “Sir Winston, call your first witness.”

Sir Winston rose and spoke. “Call Mr. Frank Stendahl,” he said.

Stone sat up straight. “What the hell?” he said aloud.

The judge looked at him sharply.