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  ‘But in this case, as I understand it,’ said Lord Justice Arnott, ‘you will be attempting to prove the exact opposite, namely that a sheet of paper was removed, not added.’

  ‘That is correct, Your Honour. And if you’ll allow me to examine the evidence in your presence, I believe I will also be able to establish whether it was Arthur Rainsford or DI Stern who lied under oath. Because they can’t both have been telling the truth.’ The professor now had everyone in the courtroom’s close attention.

  ‘Beyond reasonable doubt?’ asked Arnott, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Scientists don’t deal in doubt, Your Honour. It’s either fact or fiction.’

  This silenced his lordship.

  ‘But in order to prove my case, Your Honour, I will need your permission to leave the witness box and conduct an experiment.’

  The judge nodded. Professor Abrahams stepped down from the box and walked across to a machine that looked like a desktop photocopier. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and turned to face the judges.

  ‘Your Honour, may I suggest,’ said Grace, ‘that you and your colleagues join us so we can all follow the experiment more closely?’

  Lord Justice Arnott nodded, and all three judges left the bench and descended into the well of the court, where they were joined by both counsel to form a ring around the ESDA.

  ‘Pay attention,’ said Abrahams, as he always did when he was about to address the students at his lectures. ‘No one has suggested,’ he began, ‘that Mr Rainsford didn’t initial the first page of his statement that was later produced as evidence in court. The only dispute is whether there were three pages rather than two. And if I’m to prove that, I will require the original two-page statement.’

  ‘This has been agreed by both sides, My Lords,’ interjected Grace.

  Arnott nodded to the clerk, who handed the original statement to Professor Abrahams.

  ‘Now, I suspect,’ said Abrahams, ‘that we will all need to be reminded of the wording of the original statement. I repeat, there is no dispute concerning page one from either party.’ He began to read.

  ‘My name is Arthur Edward Rainsford. I am fifty-one years old and currently reside at 32 Fulham Gardens, London SW7. I am the sales director of a small finance company that specializes in investing in burgeoning pharmaceutical companies.

  ‘On 5 May 1983 I travelled to Coventry by train to meet a potential new investor. Following that meeting, we had lunch together. When the bill came, I presented my company credit card and was embarrassed when it was declined, as this was hardly the way to impress a potential client. I was extremely angry, and contacted our finance director, Gary Kirkland, to find out how this could have been possible. He assured me that there was nothing to worry about, and that it must simply be a banking error. He suggested that I drop by the office on my way home that evening, when he would go over the accounts with me. I later regretted that I had lost my temper, and I should never have – ’

  The professor put the first page down and picked up the second.

  ‘This, as you know,’ he said to his attentive audience, ‘is the second page of the statement given in evidence, although Mr Rainsford still maintains it is in fact the third page.’ He began to read again.

  ‘ – struck him. I immediately realized when I saw the deep gash on the back of his head that he must have hit the edge of the mantelpiece or the brass fender as he collapsed to the floor. The next thing I recall was hearing a siren, and a few moments later half a dozen policemen stormed into the room. One of them, a Detective Inspector Stern, arrested me, and later charged me with the murder of Gary Kirkland, one of my oldest friends. I will regret his death for the rest of my life.

  Arthur Rainsford

  I have read this statement in the presence of DI Stern and DC Clarkson.’

  Professor Abrahams stopped for a moment to make sure he still had the attention of his students. Satisfied, he continued. ‘I now want you to turn your attention to the ESDA machine – the Electrostatic Detection Apparatus. I’m about to place this second page on the ESDA’s bronze plate. Are there any questions?’

  No one spoke.

  ‘Good. I will now cover the page with a sheet of Mylar film, before sealing it.’

  The professor took a small roller from his box of tricks, and proceeded to roll it backwards and forwards over the Mylar film until he was confident that he’d eliminated any air bubbles. Next, he took a thin metal device from his bag, explaining that it was a corona. It made a faint buzzing sound when he turned it on. He held it an inch above the plate and scanned it back and forth over the page several times.

  ‘What’s the corona doing?’ asked Lord Justice Arnott.

  ‘It’s bombarding the Mylar film with positive charges, Your Honour, which will be attracted to any indentations on the page.’

  Once he’d completed the task, the professor switched off the corona and announced, ‘I am now ready to sprinkle some photocopy toner over the surface of the paper, after which we’ll quickly discover if my experiment has served its purpose or has been a complete waste of time.’

  The attentive audience, heads down, stared at the piece of paper as the professor lifted one side of the bronze plate, before sprinkling the page with minute, pepper-like black filings that ran down its surface and disappeared into a narrow trough at the bottom of the plate. Once he was satisfied the paper had been completely covered with filings, he lowered the bronze plate back in place, and peered down at his handiwork.

  ‘Look at Arthur,’ whispered Grace.

  Sir Julian glanced up at the defendant, who was still standing in the dock. Arthur didn’t seem to be in any doubt about what the result would be, whereas Lord Justice Arnott and his two colleagues still appeared sceptical, and Mr Llewellyn downright unconvinced.

  Professor Abrahams bent over the machine and placed a sheet of sticky-backed plastic carefully on top of the Mylar film, then deftly peeled the film from the plate. Finally, he separated the sticky-backed plastic sheet from the film, and placing a blank sheet of white paper behind it, held it up for everyone to see.

  No one could have failed to observe the unmistakable impressions on the missing page.

  Mr Llewellyn still looked unimpressed when Lord Justice Arnott said, ‘Perhaps you would be kind enough, professor, to read out the words that are indented on the page, as I have a feeling you may have done this before.’

  ‘On several occasions, Your Honour. But I should warn you that there are bound to be some gaps. But first may I remind you of the final sentence on the first page, before I move on to the disputed second page.’ The judge nodded. ‘I later regretted that I had lost my temper with him, and I should never have . . .’ The Professor took a large magnifying glass from his bag and studied the indented page closely before he continued.

  ‘done so before I heard side story. On arrival back Euston S I took taxi to our,’ he hesitated, ‘office in Marylebone. When I open the door I saw heavily built ma rush wards me. I held op the doo for him, but barged past me and to street. I didn’t think about at tim but ater realiz he co have be the mur erer. I went s up to Gary’ offi on the loor, and fo im pread on t floor by the mant piec. I rush across bu it was ready late. Someon must ave

  The professor turned to the third page of the statement and continued, ‘struck him.’ One or two of those standing around the machine burst into applause, while the others remained stony silent.

  ‘Thank you, professor,’ said Lord Justice Arnott, before adding, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, would you please return to your seats.’

  Grace waited until everyone had settled before she rose from her place and said, ‘No more questions, My Lords,’ and collapsed onto the bench.

  ‘Chapeau,’ her father whispered, touching his forehead with the fingers of his right hand.

  ‘Mr Llewellyn, do you wish to cross-examine this witness?’ asked Lord Justice Arnott.

  Professor Abrahams braced himself for the Crown’s rebuttal.