‘You wish to know for what purpose she wrote – or scribbled, like any woman – these notes, this diary? There is not much of any meaningful intelligence in them. It is true she speaks in passing of Citizen Égalité’s politics, of Citizeness Buffon’s convictions, their polite conversation with Citizen Biron and with Citizen Beaujolais – with Citizen Égalité’s English bankers. She records what he said to Marat, what he said to Danton . . . there is nothing in those pages but chatter and bons mots. There are no secrets, merely anecdotes: what wine was had, what dishes prepared, what gown Citizeness Buffon wore,’ he fibbed. ‘What you suspect is plainly untrue; not a word is spoken against the Revolution or the aims of the Convention. They sing in constant praise of it. Indeed, if ever aspersions are to be cast upon Citizen Égalité, upon his intentions and his love for the Republic, let these journals serve as testimony to his patriotism.’ Allenham then softened his tone. ‘But you wish to know, brothers, what was the cause of her keeping a memorandum of this nature? It was . . . for me.’

He smiled at me across the hall. His eyes luminescent with love, light and conviction.

‘She hoped to entertain me. She wished to regain my affection by way of amusement. This she told me upon many occasions as she pleaded with me . . . pleaded for my love to be returned to her,’ he fairly whispered, before raising his voice to a crescendo. ‘Citizen Fouquier-Tinville wished to know why Citizeness Lightfoot possessed no correspondence among her effects. This is because, in a rage, she burned all of the letters that had ever passed between us – and I believe into that bonfire went other correspondence in an indiscriminate fit of passion.’ He folded his arms against himself, in a gesture of defiance, and then pointed his chin towards the members of the tribunal.

‘Citizen president, you would accuse this prisoner of wilfully conspiring with a traitoress, maintaining her within her household – a household, my fellow patriots, where she was scarcely in residence. This is so much the case that Citizeness Lightfoot failed to recognize the very neighbour who denounced her to the section house! She could have had no knowledge of her housemaid’s activities for, as it has been evidenced in her pocketbooks, she was then residing at the Maison Égalité!’

‘She is innocent!’ came a cry from the gallery, and then another. A rumble of agreement rolled through the crowd.

Allenham paused. He permitted the calls of support and the murmurs to rise behind him. He wished them to gather volume before he continued, this time in a more measured, softer tone.

‘I should like to address the prisoner . . . with your leave, citizen president?’

The hush returned once more. Neither the president nor Fouquier-Tinville made any motion to contradict him. He gazed at me, his face open and pleading, his expression a true one.