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(CARLA, taken aback, looks up at Justin)

(He crosses below Carla to R) Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Nobody else had the slightest motive. If you were to read up the reports of the case . . .

CARLA. I have. I’ve gone to the files. I’ve read up every single detail of the trial.

(JUSTIN crosses behind the desk and goes through the file he put on it)

JUSTIN. Well, then, take the facts. Aside from your mother and father, there were five people in the house that day. There were the Blakes—Philip and Meredith, two brothers, two of your father’s closest friends. There was a girl of fourteen, your mother’s half-sister—Angela Warren, and her governess—Miss—something or other, and there was Elsa Greer, your father’s mistress—and there wasn’t the least suspicion against any of them—and besides, if you’d seen . . . (He breaks off)

CARLA. (eagerly) Yes—go on . . .

JUSTIN. (turning to the window; with feeling) If you’d seen her standing there in the witness-box. So brave, so polite—bearing it all so patiently, but never—for one moment—fighting. (He looks at Carla) You’re like her, you know, to look at. It might be her sitting there. There’s only one difference. You’re a fighter. (He looks in the file)

CARLA. (looking out front; puzzled) She didn’t fight—why?

JUSTIN. (crossing downL) Montagu Depleach led for the defence. I think now that may have been a mistake. He had an enormous reputation, but he was—theatrical. His client had to play up. But your mother didn’t play up.

CARLA. Why?

JUSTIN. She answered his questions with all the right answers—but it was like a docile child repeating a lesson—it didn’t give old Monty his chance. He built up to the last question—“I ask you, Mrs. Crale, did you kill your husband?” And she said: “No—er—no, really I d-didn’t.” She stammered. It was a complete anti-climax, utterly unconvincing.

CARLA. And then what happened?

JUSTIN. (crossing above Carla to the desk) Then it was Asprey’s turn. He was Attorney-General, later. Quiet, but quite deadly. Logic—after old Monty’s fireworks. He made mincemeat of her. Brought out every damning detail. I—I could hardly bear it . . .

CARLA. (studying him) You remember it all very well.

JUSTIN. Yes.

CARLA. Why?

JUSTIN. (taken aback) I suppose . . .

CARLA. Yes?

JUSTIN. I was young, impressionable.

CARLA. You fell in love with my mother.

(JUSTIN forces a laugh and sits at the desk)

JUSTIN. Something of the kind—she was so lovely—so helpless—she’d been through so much—I—I’d have died for her. (He smiles) Romantic age—eighteen.

CARLA. (frowning) You’d have died for her—but you thought her guilty.

JUSTIN. (firmly) Yes, I did.

(CARLA is really shaken. She bends her head, fighting back her tears. TURNBALL enters and moves to L of the desk)

TURNBALL. A Mr. Rogers is here, sir, asking for Miss Le Marchant. (He looks at Carla)

CARLA. Jeff. (To Turnball) Please—ask him to wait.

TURNBALL. Certainly, Miss Le Marchant.

(TURNBALL looks closely at Carla for a moment, then exits)

CARLA. (looking after Turnball) He looked at me . . . (She breaks off)

JUSTIN. Turnball was at your mother’s trial. He’s been with us for nearly forty years.

CARLA. Please, ask him back.

(JUSTIN rises and moves to the arch)

JUSTIN. (calling) Turnball. (He returns toRof the desk)

(TURNBALL enters)

TURNBALL. Yes, sir?

(JUSTIN motions to Carla. TURNBALL moves down L of Carla)

CARLA. Mr. Turnball—I’m Carla Crale. I believe you were at my mother’s trial.

TURNBALL. Yes, Miss Crale, I was. Er—I knew at once who you were.

CARLA. Because I’m so like my mother?

TURNBALL. The dead spit of her, if I may put it so.

CARLA. What did you think—at the trial? Did you think she was guilty?

(TURNBALL looks at Justin. JUSTIN nods for Turnball to answer)

TURNBALL. (kindly) You don’t want to put it that way. She was a sweet, gentle lady—but she’d been pushed too far. As I’ve always seen it, she didn’t rightly know what she was doing.

CARLA. (to herself; ironically) Extenuating circumstances. (She looks at Justin)