I pick up the copper coins, each valued at one-half an anna. I examine one, rubbing the grime off with my fingers. Queen Victoria in her imperial crown graces one side. The other spells out ‘Half Anna India’ with the date 1875, the same year we moved to Bow Bazar. A wreath twines around the coin’s edge. My reputation is worth two of these coins. I roll them in my hand before putting them in my pocket. I pick up the valise I brought today. I’m going back to Serampore on the next train.
Mr. Trevelyan shakes hands. “I know this is a blow. Rest assured, we’ll appeal. The judge completely disregarded the actual libel.”
I look at him and shake my head. “I don’t see the point.”
“The point is justice,” Mr. Trevelyan says. “The ruling is in error and must be corrected. Leave it with me.”
“Very well,” I say. “So long as I don’t have to testify.”
“Appeals are based on the law and recorded testimony. It’s most unusual to call witnesses.”
Mr. Carruthers’s clerk takes my valise. “I have a gharry for you, Miss Pigot,” he says.
I take a final look at the site of my betrayal and leave the courtroom.
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