Spark [Sheldon_Sidney]_The_Other_Side_of_Midnight(BookSe | Seite 283

who had been found with their fingers in the public coffers, to murderers who had been
caught red-handed by the police, and he had never lost a major case. Chotas was thin and
emaciated-looking and he sat in the courtroom watching the spectators with large, sad
bloodhound eyes in a ruined face. When Chotas addressed a jury, his speech was slow and
hesitant, and he had great difficulty expressing himself. Sometimes he was in such an
agony of embarrassment that a juror would helpfully blurt out the word that Napoleon
Chotas was fumbling for, and when this happened the lawyer’s face would fill with such
relief and inexpressible gratitude that the entire panel of jurors would feel a wave of
affection for the man. Outside the courtroom Chotas was a crisp, incisive speaker with a
consummate mastery of language and syntax. He spoke seven languages fluently and
when his busy schedule permitted, he gave lectures to jurists all over the world.
Seated on the lawyer’s bench a few feet away from Chotas, was Frederick Stavros,
the defense attorney for Larry Douglas. The experts agreed that while Stavros might be
competent enough to handle routine cases, he was hopelessly out of his depth in this one.
Noelle Page and Larry Douglas had already been tried in the newspapers and in the
minds of the populace and had been found guilty. No one doubted their guilt for a
moment. Professional gamblers were offering thirty to one that the defendants would be
convicted. To the trial, then, was lent the added excitement of watching the greatest
criminal lawyer in Europe work his magic against enormous odds.
When it had been announced that Chotas was going to defend Noelle Page, the
woman who had betrayed Constantin Demiris and held him up to public ridicule, the news
had created a furor. As powerful as Chotas was, Constantin Demiris was a hundred times
more powerful and no one could imagine what had possessed Chotas to go against
Constantin Demiris. The truth was even more interesting than the bizarre rumors that were
flying around.
The lawyer had taken on Noelle Page’s defense at the personal request of Demiris.
Three months before the trial was scheduled to begin, the warden himself had come
to Noelle’s cell at the Saint Nikodemous Street Prison to tell her that Constantin Demiris
had asked permission to visit her. Noelle had wondered when she would hear from
Demiris. There had been no word from him since her arrest, only a deep, foreboding
silence.
Noelle had lived with Demiris long enough to know how deep was his sense of
amour-propre and to what lengths he would go to avenge even the smallest slight. Noelle
had humiliated him as no other person ever had before, and he was powerful enough to
exact a terrible retribution. The only question was: How would he go about it? Noelle was
certain Demiris would disdain anything as simple as the bribing of a jury or judges. He
would be satisfied with no less than some complex Machiavellian plot to exact his
revenge, and Noelle had lain awake on her cell cot night after night putting herself in
Demiris’ mind, discarding strategy after strategy, just as he must have done, searching for
a perfect plan. It was like playing mental chess with Demiris, except that she and Larry
were the pawns, and the stakes were life and death.