'May we go in?'

He shrugged and opened the door. As soon as we had passed through he shut it quickly behind us, the key rasping in the lock.

The Hole, the deepest and darkest part of the prison, had a men's and a women's dungeon. The Women's Hole was a small, square chamber, lit dimly by a barred window high up near the ceiling, through which I could see the shoes and skirts of passers-by. It was as chill as the rest of the prison, with a miasma of damp that penetrated even the stink of ordure. The floor was covered with foul straw, stained and matted with all manner of filth. Huddled in one corner was a fat old woman in a stained wadmol dress, fast asleep. I stared round, puzzled, for at first I could see no one else, but then I saw that in the furthest corner the straw had been pulled into a pile around a human figure, hiding it save for a face begrimed with dirt and framed by tangled hair as dark and curly as Joseph's. The face stared at us vacantly with large eyes, dark green like his. It was such a strange sight a shiver ran through me.

Joseph walked across to her. 'Lizzy,' he said chidingly, 'why have you piled the straw round yourself like that? It's filthy. Are you cold?'

The girl did not answer. Her eyes were unfocused; she could or would not look at us directly. I saw that under the dirt her face was pretty, delicate, with high cheekbones. A grubby hand was half visible through the straw. Joseph reached for it, but the girl drew it sharply away without altering her gaze. I went and stood directly in front of her as Joseph laid the posy at her side.

'I've brought you some flowers, Lizzy,' he said. She glanced at the posy and then she did return Joseph's gaze and to my surprise her look was full of anger. I saw a plate of bread and stockfish lying on the straw with a flagon of beer. It must be the food Joseph had brought. It was untouched, fat blackbeetles nosing over the dried fish. Elizabeth looked away again.

'Elizabeth-' there was a tremble in her uncle's voice – 'this is Master Shardlake. He's a lawyer, he has the best mind in London. He can help you. But you must talk to him.'

I squatted on my haunches so I could look into her face without sitting on that disgusting straw. 'Miss Wentworth,' I said gently, 'can you hear me? Why will you not speak? Are you protecting a secret – yours, or perhaps another's?' I paused. She looked right through me, not even stirring. In the silence I heard the tapping of feet from the street above. I felt suddenly angry.

'You know what will happen if you refuse to plead?' I said. 'You will be pressed. The judge you will come before on Saturday is a hard man and that will be his sentence without a doubt. They've told you what pressing means?' Still no response. 'A dreadful slow death that can last many days.'

At these words her eyes came to life and fixed mine, but only for a second. I shivered at the pit of misery I saw in them.

'If you speak, I may be able to save you. There are possible ways, whatever happened that day at the well.' I paused. 'What did happen, Elizabeth? I'm your lawyer, I won't tell anyone else. We could ask your uncle to leave if you would rather speak to me alone.'

'Yes,' Joseph agreed. 'Yes, if you wish.'

But still she was silent. She began picking at the straw with one hand.

'Oh, Lizzy,' Joseph burst out, 'you should be reading and playing music as you were a year ago, not lying in this terrible place.' He put a fist to his face, biting his knuckles. I shifted my position and looked the girl directly in the eyes. Something had struck me.

'Elizabeth, I know people have come down here to look at you, to taunt. Yet though you hide your body you show your face. Oh, I know that straw is vile but you could hide your head, it would be a way of preventing people from seeing you, the turnkey would not be permitted to let them in. It is almost as though you wanted them to see you.'

A shudder ran through her and for a moment I thought she would break down, but she set her jaw hard; I saw the muscles clench. I paused a moment, then got painfully to my feet. As I did so, there was a rustle from the straw on the other side of the cell and I turned to see the old woman raising herself slowly on her elbows. She shook her head solemnly.

'She won't speak, gentlemen,' she said in a cracked voice. 'I've been here three days and she's said nothing.'

'What are you here for?' I asked her.

'They say my son and I stole a horse. We're for trial on Saturday too.' She sighed and ran her tongue over her cracked lips. 'Have you any drink, sir? Even the most watery beer.'

'No, I'm sorry.'

She looked over at Elizabeth. 'They say she has a demon inside her, that one, a demon that holds her fast.' She laughed bitterly. 'But demon or no, it's all one to the hangman.'

I turned to Joseph. 'I don't think there's any more I can do here now. Come, let us go.' I led him gently to the door and knocked. It opened at once: the gaoler must have been outside listening. I glanced back; Elizabeth still lay quite still, unmoving.

'The old beldame's right,' the turnkey said as he locked the door behind us. 'She has a devil inside her.'

'Then have a care when you bring people down to goggle at her through that spy hatch,' I snapped. 'She might turn herself into a crow and fly at their faces.' I led Joseph away. A minute later we were outside again, blinking in the bright sunlight. We returned to the tavern and I set a beer in front of him.

'How many times have you visited since she was taken?' I asked.

'Today's the fourth. And each time she sits there like a stone.'

'Well, I can't move her. Not at all. I confess I've never seen anything like it.'

'You did your best, sir,' he said disappointedly.

I tapped my fingers on the table. 'Even if she were found guilty, there may just be ways of stopping her from being hanged. The jury might be persuaded she was mad, she could even claim she was pregnant, then she couldn't be hanged till the baby was born. It would buy us time.'

'Time for what, sir?'

'What? Time to investigate, find what really happened.'

He leaned forward eagerly, nearly knocking over his tankard. 'Then you believe she is innocent?'

I gave him a direct look. 'You do. Though her treatment of you, in all honesty, is cruel.'

'I believe her because I know her. And because, when I see her there, I see-' He struggled for words.

'A woman whose air is of one who has been done a great wrong, rather than one who has committed a great crime?'

'Yes,' he said eagerly. 'Yes. That is it exactly. You feel it too?'

'Ay, I do.' I looked at him evenly. 'But what you or I feel is not evidence, Joseph. And we may be wrong. It is not good for a lawyer to base his work on instinct. He needs detachment, reason. I speak from experience.'

'What can we do, sir?'

'You must go and see her every day between now and Saturday. I don't think she can be persuaded to speak, but it will show her she is not forgotten and I feel that is important, for all that she ignores us. If she says anything, if her manner changes at all, tell me and I will come again.'

'I'll do it, sir,' he said.

'And if she still does not speak, I will appear in court on Saturday. I don't know if Forbizer will even hear me, but I'll try and argue that her mind is disturbed-'

'God knows, it must be. She has no reason to treat me so. Unless – ' he hesitated – 'unless the old woman is right.'

'There's no profit in thinking that way, Joseph. I'll try to argue that the issue of her sanity should be remitted to a jury. I am sure there are precedents, though Forbizer doesn't have to follow them. Again, that would buy us time.' I looked at him seriously. 'But I am not optimistic. You must prepare your mind for the worst, Joseph.'

'No, sir,' he said. 'While you are working for us, I have hope.'