‘It’s quite ironic, isn’t it,’ said Webster, poking his beak forward, ‘that the very reservoir built to supply the mills on the banks of the Loxley should instead prove to be the instrument of their destruction.’

This sounded rehearsed, but Gunson couldn’t let it pass. ‘This town’s population has quadrupled in the past fifty years and every resident expects a ready water supply, from the housemaid to the mill owner.’

Perronet nodded in agreement. ‘Indeed, indeed. Sheffield is certainly a sizeable town now, for the north.’

‘And the people continue to flow in,’ said Gunson.

Matthew Jackson laid his hand on Gunson’s arm. ‘An apt analogy, John, if somewhat insensitive in the present circumstances. Well, shall we go in, gentlemen?’

Smarting from his gaffe, Gunson braced himself for more from Webster who always ensured he had the final word. Sure enough, the man spoke up. ‘Would that this town had the control of the flow of its water supplies.’

Gunson stamped into the room, his earlier equilibrium destroyed.

The rustle of papers and murmur of voices subsided as Gunson stepped into the witness box. He glanced at the newspaper editor, who was watching him with weary eyes, his chin resting on an ink-stained hand. Gunson straightened his shoulders. He would not show how wounded he was by the evidence Matthew Jackson had just given, how it pierced his heart to hear his fellow engineer blame poor construction for the disaster. It was one man’s opinion only.

John Webster immediately went on the attack.

‘It would not be so bad if the water company could admit they had made a single mistake in the construction of this dam. You assume that everything was perfect!’

‘Not perfect,’ said Gunson. His hand was shaking and he tapped the rail of the witness box to cover it. ‘Not perfect, no, but we did everything for the best so far as our knowledge goes.’

‘Very well then,’ said Webster, nodding sagely. ‘I am sorry you have so very little knowledge.’

He would bear this so that he could deliver his point. ‘It is a great misfortune.’

‘When destruction is visited upon us, you say the work was perfect.’ Webster banged both fists upon the table. ‘This will not do at all!’

There was a stir in the jury box and the foreman raised his hand. ‘Coroner, you might wish to take this more deliberately.’

‘It is difficult to do so when the work has destroyed nearly three hundred of our fellow citizens!’ But Webster subsided and had the grace to look somewhat abashed.

‘Mr Gunson,’ said Perronet.

‘Thank you.’ From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of peacock blue leaving the chamber. He hid his dismay. Matthew Jackson would not hear the assertion Gunson was about to make. He spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘It is my contention that the catastrophe was caused by a landslip and not by any fault in the design or construction. The downstream toe of the dam was built on an old landslide area. I believe this is the true cause of the disaster and that no fault can be laid at the door of my employer.’