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.