black coat thirty years out of fashion, who had arrived at Lambeth that morning at nine, unannounced, and said only, I'll not let you go alone, maid. Tom would have my hide. And at the end of the bench, a little apart, in the full-dress uniform of a commander with the gold lace dimmed by salt, sat Captain Leventhorpe, with a leather-bound journal on his knee.
At the table before the black board sat the President of the Institution, and two strangers. Dr. Wray of Oxford was a small, frail, very old man with a face like a walnut and bright black eyes that went everywhere. Mr. Carrow from the Admiralty was a plump, smooth, careful person who looked as if he would very much rather be at the Admiralty.
And at the end of the table, in his gown, sat Sir Augustus Threlkeld.
He spoke first, and he spoke very well. He spoke of eleven years of labour; of his computers, all of them Cambridge men; of the testimony of officers at sea. He made a little joke about the evening of the fourteenth of March, which got a little laugh. And then he turned towards the front bench and said, with every appearance of reluctance:
"I would not wish to be ungallant. But the Commissioners must consider not only the objection but its source. It has come to my knowledge that the young lady who has made it has for some time been engaged, without the knowledge of the Board or the Astronomer Royal, in computing for the Nautical Almanac under the name of a deceased person. I make no accusation as to the accuracy of that work. I merely observe that a person who has seen fit to deceive the Board in one matter may perhaps be thought an unreliable witness in another."
There was a stir along the benches. Mr. Carrow looked deeply uncomfortable. Dr. Wray's black eyes moved, without hurry, to Judith.
"Is this true, madam?"
She stood up.
"It is quite true, sir," she said. "I had meant to tell you myself, before Sir Augustus did; but he has been beforehand with me." There was a small sound in the gallery, almost a laugh. "I have computed the moon's places for the Almanac since the year fifteen, under my late father's name, and for four years before that, at his side, when he was blind. Mr. Oakes, the comparer, knew it, and kept it to himself because my sheets were good, and he will tell you so. I deceived the Board, sir, because I did not think the Board would let a woman compute for it, and I wanted the work. I am sorry for the deception. I am not sorry for the work. It is correct. You may examine every sheet."