Sons of Fortune

“Could we drive around the block a few times?” said Su Ling, “I need to think about what I’m going to say.”

“No,” said Nat firmly, “try to remember how the professor of statistics at Harvard reacted when he first met you.”

“Yes, but I didn’t want to marry his son.”

“I feel sure he would have agreed to that if he’d thought it might have convinced you to join his team.” Su Ling laughed for the first time in over an hour, just as Nat brought the car to a halt outside the house. He went quickly around to Su Ling’s side and opened the door for her. She stepped out and lost one of her shoes in the gutter.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said as she slipped it back on. “I’m sorry.”

Nat laughed and took her in his arms.

“No, no,” said Su Ling, “your mother might see us.”

“I hope she does,” said Nat. He smiled and took her by the hand as they walked up the short driveway.

The door was opened long before they’d reached it, and Susan ran out to greet them. She immediately took Su Ling in her arms and said, “Nat didn’t exaggerate. You are quite beautiful.”

Fletcher walked slowly back down the corridor toward the court room, surprised to find that the professor remained by his side. When they reached the swing doors, the young counselor assumed his mentor would return to his place a couple of rows behind Annie and Jimmy, but he continued walking toward the front of the court room and took the vacant seat next to Fletcher’s. Annie and Jimmy could barely conceal their surprise. The court usher announced, “All rise. His Honor Judge Abernathy presiding.”

Once he was seated, the judge looked toward the attorney general and acknowledged him, then turned his attention to the defense team, and for the second time during the trial, surprise registered on his face.

“I see you have acquired an assistant, Mr. Davenport. Is his name to be entered on the register before I recall the jury?”

Fletcher turned to the professor, who rose from his place and said, “That would be my wish, your honor.”

“Name?” asked the judge, as if he had never seen him before.

“Karl Abrahams, your honor.”

“Are you qualified to appear in my c

ourt?” asked the judge solemnly.

“I believe I am, sir,” said Abrahams, “I first became a member of the Connecticut bar in 1937, though I have never had the privilege of appearing before your honor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Abrahams. If the attorney general has no objection, I will enter your name on my register as Mr. Davenport’s co-counsel.”

The attorney general rose, gave the professor a slight bow, and said, “It is a privilege to be in the same court as Mr. Davenport’s assistant.”

“Then I think we should waste no more time in recalling the jury,” said the judge.

Fletcher examined the faces of the seven men and five women as they filed back to their places. The professor had suggested that Fletcher check to see if any jury members looked directly at their client, which would possibly indicate a verdict of not guilty. He thought two or three of them did, but he couldn’t be sure.

The foreman rose. “Have you reached a verdict in this case?” the judge asked.

“No, your honor, we have been unable to do so,” the foreman replied.

Fletcher could feel the sweat on the palms of his hands even more intensely than when he had first stood to address the jury. The judge tried a second time. “Are you able to return a majority verdict?”

“No, we are not, your honor,” replied the foreman.

“Do you feel, given more time, you might eventually reach a majority verdict?”

“I don’t think so, your honor. We have been equally divided for the past three hours.”

“Then I have no choice but to declare a mistrial, and dismiss the jury. On behalf of the state, I thank you for your service.” He turned his attention to the attorney general, and as he did so Mr. Abrahams rose to his feet.

“I wonder, your honor, if I might seek your guidance on a small matter of protocol.”