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"Prisoner at the bar," the justice said, "you stand convicted of grand larceny and embezzlement. I call upon the Procurator of Dooms to pronounce sentence."
Master Elias Shadman rose to his feet, tall, spare and commanding.
"Hearken to your appointed doom," he said matter-of-factly. "You will be taken from this place to Southampton Dock and placed aboard the freighter Henry Esmond. You will be given a package and a temporary passport. You will work your passage to Bangkok, in the lowest capacity. You will present the package to the ship's captain for inspection each morning and evening. His authority over you will be absolute.
"When the ship docks at Bangkok you will be given directions to a certain lamasery in the interior of Siam. A member of the consular staff will accompany you as far as the gate; he will also inspect the package twice daily. You will hand that package to the High Lama, to whom it is addressed. He will give you another, addressed to me. At this point your doom is ended. It is up to you to bring back the second package, or not, as you wish.
"While you are away your assets will be seized by the Crown and reasonable provision made for your dependents therefrom. If you return within a year with the second package, you may apply for the return of whatever is left. If you do not, it will be considered forfeit. Any further offence you may commit while in another country will be dealt with under that country's laws: the Government offers you no protection or immunity whatsoever, and your passport is so annotated." He sat down.
"Do you understand the doom appointed to you?" the justice demanded.
White-faced and trembling, the prisoner nodded jerkily.
"Then it begins. This case is closed."
Mlle de Douleur was waiting for Master Shadman when he emerged from the robing room twenty minutes later.
"A strange punishment," she observed. "Some might find it quite tolerable."
"Not he," Master Shadman said. "Did you not remark his reaction? The whole idea is repugnant to him: I designed it to be so. Last week a sailor was convicted of murdering a shipmate in a drunken quarrel. He is now sitting in a small stuffy office, allowed only water and weak tea to drink, balancing the accounts of a rural town council for the past twenty years. For every mistake he makes he must do the whole ledger again. By the end, he will either be quite mad, or, which is more likely, he will have become sober, chastened, and possessed of a useful new skill, and a long-neglected task will have been done."
"Our way is simpler," said the lady.
"Death serves no purpose save vengeance," said Master Shadman, "and prison is likewise at best a waste of space and humanity, at worst merely an academy of evil. To be effective, a punishment must not only fit the crime, but the criminal. I determine exactly what each felon would least like to do, and the court compels him to do it."
"I cannot win," Mlle de Douleur laughed. "You are defending your livelihood!"
Master Shadman bowed.
"And yet," she continued, "suppose you encountered a person who was prepared to embrace any task with equal relish?"
"I should have to hope," he rejoined, "that such a person would never turn to crime. Shall we go?"
Master Elias Shadman rose to his feet, tall, spare and commanding.
"Hearken to your appointed doom," he said matter-of-factly. "You will be taken from this place to Southampton Dock and placed aboard the freighter Henry Esmond. You will be given a package and a temporary passport. You will work your passage to Bangkok, in the lowest capacity. You will present the package to the ship's captain for inspection each morning and evening. His authority over you will be absolute.
"When the ship docks at Bangkok you will be given directions to a certain lamasery in the interior of Siam. A member of the consular staff will accompany you as far as the gate; he will also inspect the package twice daily. You will hand that package to the High Lama, to whom it is addressed. He will give you another, addressed to me. At this point your doom is ended. It is up to you to bring back the second package, or not, as you wish.
"While you are away your assets will be seized by the Crown and reasonable provision made for your dependents therefrom. If you return within a year with the second package, you may apply for the return of whatever is left. If you do not, it will be considered forfeit. Any further offence you may commit while in another country will be dealt with under that country's laws: the Government offers you no protection or immunity whatsoever, and your passport is so annotated." He sat down.
"Do you understand the doom appointed to you?" the justice demanded.
White-faced and trembling, the prisoner nodded jerkily.
"Then it begins. This case is closed."
Mlle de Douleur was waiting for Master Shadman when he emerged from the robing room twenty minutes later.
"A strange punishment," she observed. "Some might find it quite tolerable."
"Not he," Master Shadman said. "Did you not remark his reaction? The whole idea is repugnant to him: I designed it to be so. Last week a sailor was convicted of murdering a shipmate in a drunken quarrel. He is now sitting in a small stuffy office, allowed only water and weak tea to drink, balancing the accounts of a rural town council for the past twenty years. For every mistake he makes he must do the whole ledger again. By the end, he will either be quite mad, or, which is more likely, he will have become sober, chastened, and possessed of a useful new skill, and a long-neglected task will have been done."
"Our way is simpler," said the lady.
"Death serves no purpose save vengeance," said Master Shadman, "and prison is likewise at best a waste of space and humanity, at worst merely an academy of evil. To be effective, a punishment must not only fit the crime, but the criminal. I determine exactly what each felon would least like to do, and the court compels him to do it."
"I cannot win," Mlle de Douleur laughed. "You are defending your livelihood!"
Master Shadman bowed.
"And yet," she continued, "suppose you encountered a person who was prepared to embrace any task with equal relish?"
"I should have to hope," he rejoined, "that such a person would never turn to crime. Shall we go?"