The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [214]
“Now,” continued the Magistrate in a quieter voice, “either you tell me what Fräulein N has written in this book or I will be forced to arrest you for wasting the court’s time.”
Two guards had pushed their way through the throng and now stood behind Hopkins, ready to seize him. The Magistrate waved the book and fixed the lawyer with an imperious stare.
“Well?” he inquired. “What was the most popular color?”
“Blue,” said Hopkins in a miserable voice.
“What’s that you say?”
“Blue,” repeated Hopkins in a louder voice.
“Blue, he said!” bellowed the Magistrate. The crowd were silent and pushed and shoved to get closer to the action. Slowly and with high drama, the Magistrate opened the book to reveal the word green written across the page. The crowd burst into an excited cry, several cheers went up, and hats rained down upon our heads.
“Not blue, green,” said the Magistrate, shaking his head sadly and signaling to the guards to take hold of Hopkins. “You have brought shame upon your profession, Herr H. You are under arrest!”
“On what charge?” replied Hopkins arrogantly.
“I am not authorized to tell you,” said the Magistrate triumphantly. “Proceedings have been started and you will be informed in due course.”
“But this is preposterous!” shouted Hopkins as he was dragged away.
“No,” replied the Magistrate, “this is Kafka.”
When Hopkins had gone and the crowd had stopped chattering, the Magistrate turned back to me and said: “You are Thursday N, age thirty-six, one hour and five minutes late and occupation housepainter?”
“Yes?”
“You are brought before this court on a charge of—what is the charge?”
There was silence.
“Where,” asked the magistrate, “is the prosecution counsel?”
One of his clerks whispered in his ear as the crowd spontaneously burst into laughter.
“Indeed,” said the Magistrate grimly. “Most remiss of him. I am afraid, in the absence of prosecuting counsel, this court has no alternative but to grant a postponement.”
And so saying he pulled a large rubber stamp from his pocket and brought it down with a crash on some papers that Snell, quick as a flash, managed to place beneath it.
“Thank you, your honor,” I managed to say before Snell grasped me by the arm, whispered in my ear, “Let’s get the hell out of here!” and steered me ahead of him past the throng of dark suits to the door.
“Bravo!” yelled a man from the gallery. “Bravo!... and bravo again!”
We walked out to find Miss Havisham deep in conversation with Esther about the perfidious nature of men in general and Esther’s husband in particular. They were not the only ones in the room. A bronzed Greek was sitting sullenly next to a Cyclops who had a bloodied bandage round his head. The lawyers who were accompanying them were discussing the case quietly in the corner.
“How did it go?” asked Havisham.
“Postponement,” said Snell, mopping his brow and shaking me by the hand. “Well done, Thursday. Caught me unawares with your housepainter defense. Very good indeed!”
“But only a postponement?”
“Oh yes. I’ve never known a single acquittal from this court. But next time we’ll be up before a proper judge—one of my choosing!”
“And what will become of Hopkins?”
“He,” laughed Snell, “will have to get a very good lawyer!”
“Good!” said Havisham, getting to her feet. “It’s time we were at the sales. Come along!”
As we made for the door, the Magistrate called into the kitchen parlor: “Odysseus? Charge of Grievous Bodily Harm against Polyphemus the Cyclops?”
“He devoured my comrades—!” growled Odysseus angrily.
“That’s tomorrow’s case. We will not hear about that today. You’re next up—and you’re late.”
And the Examining Magistrate shut the door again.
19.
Bargain Books
Jurisfiction was the fastest learning curve I had ever experienced. I think they were all expecting me to arrive a lot earlier than I did. Miss Havisham tested my bookjumping prowess soon after I arrived and I was marked up a dismal 38 out of a hundred. Mrs. Nakajima was 93 and Havisham a 99. I would always need a book to read from to make a jump,