The judge looked at Allison. “The prisoner will rise,” he said.
Stone looked over his shoulder at Allison, who was still seated. Her head jerked up, and slowly, she got to her feet. There was fear written across her face.
“Allison Ames Manning,” the judge intoned, “you have been found guilty of the crime of murder by a properly constituted jury of St. Marks freemen. Do you have anything to say before sentence is pronounced?”
Allison looked bleakly at him. “I am innocent,” she said, her voice breaking.
The judge nodded, then continued. “By the power vested in me by the people of St. Marks, I now direct that on the morrow, at the hour of sunset, you be taken from a cell in this building to the inner courtyard, where a scaffold shall have been erected, and be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May God have mercy on your soul.”
Allison looked briefly at the wall above the judge; then her eyes rolled up in her head, and she collapsed backward, sending her chair skittering across the floor.
“Court is adjourned,” the judge said, then left the bench.
Stone and the bailiff ran for the dock.
Chapter
58
Stone reached Allison simultaneously with the bailiff, and a moment later, a court aide appeared with a folding canvas stretcher and placed it on the floor beside the inert woman. Stone slapped her cheeks lightly, but she did not respond. “Please get a doctor,” he said to the bailiff.
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr. Barrington,” the bailiff said. “Let’s get her onto the stretcher.”
Together, the two men lifted Allison and set her gently on the stretcher. The bailiff and the court aide each took an end and carried her from the courtroom. Stone and Sir Leslie followed them down the stairs and past the front desk of the jail into a corridor, then to the last cell before the hallway ended in a stout wooden door. By the time they had laid her on the cell’s bunk, Allison was stirring. Stone put a pillow under her head and felt her neck for a pulse. It was rapid, but strong.
“What is this place?” Allison asked weakly.
“The jail,” Stone replied. “You fainted; how do you feel now?”
“Weak,” she said.
“I’ll get her some food,” Sir Leslie said, then disappeared.
“Did I dream it all?” Allison asked.
“No, but don’t worry about it; your appeal has already gone to the prime minister. We should hear something tomorrow sometime.”
Allison nodded. “I’m sorry I fainted,” she said. “I’m usually better under pressure.”
“I don’t blame you,” Stone said. “I still can’t believe it myself. An American jury would have acquitted you in minutes.”
“I’d like to sit up,” she said. As she did, with Stone’s help, a woman in a denim shift came into the cell, bearing a bowl of something hot.
“Here you are, dear,” she said to Allison, setting the tray on her lap. “This’ll do you good; I made it myself.”
Allison began eating the stew. “It’s good,” she said. “Lots of fish in it.”
From the direction of the inner courtyard, the sound of hammering came through the window high over the outside door.
“What’s that?” Allison asked.
“Oh, just some work being done,” he lied. “Ignore it.” He knew exactly what that hammering meant.
Stone sat beside her on the bunk, and Sir Leslie returned with a chair.
“I don’t want you to worry,” Hewitt said. “Your appeal will be in the prime minister’s hands in just a few minutes.” He reached into his briefcase and retrieved two sheets of paper, handing them to Stone and Allison. “Here’s a copy for you.”
“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Allison said, continuing to eat the stew.