‘He gave me this and told me to spy on Leah,’ she continues, almost gleeful, almost enjoying herself. Saul lurches for her again and Viola dances from his grip. She catches her breath and carries on: ‘Leah Cedars told Benjamin Hailey that it was his baby, so that he’d take her with him on the April ship.’

Saul gives up the chase and spins on his heels, meeting the gaze of the Council men who watch this petty scene with growing anger and impatience.

‘This is a complete lie,’ he says, palms flattening the electric atmosphere.

Leah Cedars takes hold of Benjamin Hailey’s arm, an appeal for him to look at her, but his attention is fixed on Saul, regarding him with an almost tangible air of violence.

‘It’s not true,’ Saul persists in his official tone – a quavering version of it. ‘The stranger… I mean, Mr Hailey… isn’t even registered for travel today.’ He says it as if this piece of trivial bureaucracy is the real crux of the allegations.

Viola pokes at the embers; she throws on petrol. ‘No, Mr Hailey’s actually leaving on the August ship, because he’s promised to take the Eldest Girls with him.’

The tremulous chorus from the mothers soars again, a shrill jigsaw of ‘What!?’ and ‘Why?’ and ‘What’s going on?’ Mary Ahearn seizes Benjamin Hailey’s shoulder, demanding he turn around and look her in the eye.

‘Stop this!’

Jacob Crane’s voice is like a sledgehammer against glass.

‘A boy has been murdered,’ he says, pacing the room, reclaiming it. ‘Lured to his death. And these girls here have admitted to it.’

All eyes return to the shaven captives, up on the stage, quivering in their seats.

‘No!’ wails Ingrid Duchamp, and Anna can’t help but respond, an involuntary sound like an animal trapped.

Jacob Crane continues: ‘They have confessed to the sin of murder, and also to the sin of witchcraft.’ Dr Bishy and Jed Springer fold their arms and nod. ‘They carried out these acts in the service of the Devil.’

Murder, witchcraft, the Devil.

The hands of the onlookers fly to their faces, to their breasts, in shock. Any sympathy for the wretched girls immediately fades.

‘Under duress!’ objects Mary Ahearn. ‘They confessed after you brought them here and tortured them!’

The headmaster rounds on the woman. ‘We brought them here to separate the diseased sheep from the lambs, to be done with their sorcery of silence.’

‘To strip them of their ornaments,’ Diana Crane puts in, receiving a sharp glance from her husband – this is not her time to speak.