Madame Juror.

Chapter 6

I was still deep in thought ten minutes later, sitting in the room I assumed we had to make our decisions in. I couldn't say Marta was guilty, because until I sorted out this irritating little issue she could quite easily be innocent.

Harry Bright and Mr. Chatt sandwiched me from either side.

"So, Miss Winter, how was your first court case?" Chatt asked cheerily. "Mighty boring, don't you think?"

"Mmm" I murmured vaguely, still trying to think straight.

Chatt and Bright were joined by Mr. Samuels, the farmer, and the couch we were sitting on sagged indefinitely as he sat down.

"Sad, tha' 'nt ih?" he asked, and the three of us looked confusedly at each other. None of us, I believed, had caught that.

"I'm sorry?" I said politely. "I didn't quite hear you."

"Sorry" Samuels replied, looking guilty. "Meant th' case. Sad."

"Very" Bright agreed, and the rest of us agreed.

"She was a beautiful lady. Full of fire, and je ne sais quoi. It's a crying shame she will be hanged."

Mr. Vendradaire leant casually over the back of the couch, joining in our conversation with his usual sickly flair.

"Well you know what foreigners are like" Harry Bright pointed out. "Some of them are quite uncultured."

I was disappointed in him for coming up with such a narrow minded remark.

"Still, at least this won't take too much time" Chatt joked. "We'll be out of here and home safe before an hour's up."

There was a general chuckle amongst the men. I couldn't help but think how utterly innocent they were now. Things were going to get pretty nasty before I was done here, I had decided.

"Come along then, gentlemen, and lady, I suppose, this won't take long." Mr. Abernarthy ordered, sitting down at the head of the big table in the centre of the room. One by one, we all took our seats as well, and I was sure to sit at the foot. Since I assumed all the men were going to vote guilty, I wanted to be in a relatively powerful position when I had to contradict them.

"We'll do this as simply as possible, everyone writes their opinion on a slip of paper, places them in a bowl, and I'll read them all out anonymously to see where we stand" Mr. Abernarthy said briskly, passing around slips of paper and pens to us all. I obediently wrote my opinion, and folded it up neatly, placing it in the bowl with all the others. Mr. Abernarthy flashed us all a quick smile before beginning to read the verdicts out.

"Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty..." he read, picking up each paper, unfolding it, reading what was written and putting it down. My confidence wavered a little when I realized I was actually alone. I had been secretly praying for a bit of backup, I had to admit. But they could do nothing to hurt me, and if I was the victim of some of their ill will for a while then so be it.

Abernarthy fumbled a little with the final slip-mine. He opened it, and his face changed to an absolute picture of frustration.

"Not guilty" he read, throwing it down on the table with a grunt.

"Who the hell put Not Guilty?" Mr. Patience shouted over the rabble of general irritated chitchat.

"I don't know. Quiet. QUIET!" Mr. Price, the buisnessman, yelled finally, shutting all the men up.

"For the sake of diplomacy, I will ask nicely once, who put Not Guilty?" Mr. Abernarthy asked, sounding decidedly undiplomatic as he stood at the head of the table. I stood up.