The Gryphon stood up and walked to the jury box. They all recoiled in fear as he scratched his chin with a large paw. The dormouse put up his hand again to be excused and was allowed to leave. When he had returned the Gryphon began.

'The question here is not whether Miss Next took a few textual and narrative liberties with the end of Jane Eyre, as my learne friend the prosecution has made so abundantly clear. We admit that she did.'

There was a gasp from the jury.

'No, I contend that while Miss Next broke the law in a technical sense, she did so for the best possible motives – love.'

The Gryphon paused for dramatic effect.

'Love?' said the King. 'Is that a defence?'

'Historically speaking,' whispered the White Rabbit, 'one of the best, Your Majesty.'

'Ah!' said the King. 'Proceed.'

'And not for her own love either,' continued the Gryphon. 'She did it so that two others who were in love might stay that way and not be parted. For such things are against the natural order, a court far higher than the court Miss Next faces today.'

There was silence, so he continued:

'I contend that Miss Next is a very extraordinary person with a selfless streak that demands the highest leniency from this court. I have only one witness to call who will prove the veracity of this defence. I call … Edward Rochester!'

There was a sharp intake of breath and the remaining guinea pig fainted clean away. The clerks of the court, unsure what to do, popped the guinea pig in a sack and sat on it.

'Call Edward Rochester!' cried the White Rabbit in his shrill voice, a demand that was echoed four times with a succession of voices each diminished further by the distance.

We heard his footfalls shuffle on the floor before we saw him, a slightly hesitant stride with the click of a cane for punctuation. He walked slowly into the courtroom with a fragile yet resolute air, and scanned the room carefully to gauge, as well as he could, which of the shapes before him were judge, jury and counsel. The change I had wrought upon Jane Eyre had not been without its price. Rochester had lost a hand and had only the milkiest vision in one eye. I put my hand to my mouth as I watched his form shuffle into the silenced courtroom. If I had known the outcome of my actions, would I still have taken them? Acheron's perfidy had been the author of Rochester's ills, but I had been the catalyst.

Edward's face was healed although badly scarred, but it did no desperate harm to his looks. He took the oath, his features glowering beneath the dark hair that hung in front of his face.

'Excuse me,' said the dormouse who was sitting closest to Rochester, 'would you sign my slate, please?'

Rochester gave a dour half-smile, took the stylus and said: