hands, poor woman. You’ve taken a fancy to her, haven’t you?’
‘Never mind,’ said Moscrop. There were limits to plain speaking.
Bridget was not so easily deflected. ‘I’ve seen you with the glasses to your eyes, Mr. Moscrop, and I’ve watched you on the beach and outside the hotel when the mistress hasn’t known you were there. I take you for a man that goes to a great deal of trouble to get what he wants. I saw you talking to the bathing-machine woman the other day when I was in the water with Guy. Oh, don’t concern yourself. It don’t bother me what you’ve seen or what she told you. I wouldn’t be the first of my sort to give a little tuition to the gentry-not that Guy needs much. Takes after his father, I can tell you, and that’s why I’ve no fears from that quarter. But you’re different, aren’t you? You wouldn’t make a pass at me if I invited you. Single-minded, that’s you.’
Was this meant for provocation, or was the girl trying to make a point? Either way, the conversation had taken a personal turn he was determined to correct.
‘If you know that Mrs. Prothero is being deceived by her husband, why don’t you tell her?’
‘I’ve got my
‘But if her husband is unfaithful-‘ ‘You think the knowledge of it might throw her into another’s arms? Don’t believe it, sir. Oh, I know you’ve watched her by the hour. You’re a patient man, I don’t deny it, and you deserve something for your persistence. I’ve followed each stage of it, the binocular-work, the day you brought back Jason, the meeting at the toy-shop and yesterday I watched from the window as she took some of her sleeping-draught to you at the croquet-lawn. Do you expect to find there’s arsenic in it, Mr. Moscrop? Do you think he’s killing her? Of course he ain’t! He’s perfectly content with things the way they are.’
‘I had no such thought. I was simply doing a lady a good turn.’ Really, Bridget was altogether too uppish. A chit of a servant-wench addressing him like this! He should have walked out at once. If the subject of their conversation were not so riveting he would certainly have done so.
‘Take my word for it,’ she continued. ‘She’s the same with everyone-generous, warm-hearted and open in her speech. It don’t mean a thing, Mr. Moscrop. There’s only one man for her and that’s my master, with all his faults. If you tell her about them she won’t thank you for it. Take as many walks as you like with her, try all your charms on her-who am I to say you haven’t no chance at all? But one thing I do ask of you-and this is why I had to find you this morning-don’t tell her the truth about her husband, sir. God knows what will happen if you do.’
He was glad he chose to walk along the front that evening in preference to the route through the town. The sound of the waves on the shingle was infinitely clearer by night. It synchronised with some small pulse in his brain, calming his mood and stabilizing his thoughts, like the tick of the grandfather clock downstairs when he was alone at night as a child. He could begin to feel in control again. He was so unused to being involved in people’s lives, least of all in the secrets of man and wife. Oh, he had seen infidelities enough through his glasses-anyone with sharp observation and a good memory for faces could pick out three or four in a fortnight by the sea-but he had always remained quite detached from the parties involved. In the present case he had deliberately eschewed the glasses, and-he admitted it-surrendered his objectivity. Complications were inevitable in the circumstances. Now it was necessary to resolve them in as calm and business-like a manner as possible. He had started this and he would see it through.
Ahead, a shaft of moonlight bisected the sea, to form a continuous line with the lantern-reflections under the Chain Pier. The chill of autumn had kept all but a handful of stalwarts off the front. Most were soldiers in town on a pass, a girl on one arm, swagger-stick under the other, pork-pie hat rakishly askew, spurs jingling long after they passed.
Near the aquarium he fancied he could hear voices coming from the beach. The glow of gas-lamps on the promenade made it difficult to see much below, and in the usual way he would not have tried to distinguish who was down there. By all accounts the nocturnal activities on the pebbles were not intended to be overseen. Nor did they usually involve much conversation. But he was sure, as he came nearer, that several men were down there tonight, engaging in animated talk. And hammering. There were no boats so far along for them to be working on. He drew level with the clock-tower and approached the promenade-railing, shading his eyes with both hands.
There must have been a dozen men in a working-party sinking stakes into the shingle near the water’s edge. Farther along, he made out a line of uprights jutting starkly against the glinting luminosity of the water. Some were twice as tall as the men and had cross-pieces fixed with diagonal struts. If this had not been Brighton-and in the season-he would have sworn that he was looking at a row of gibbets. He shivered, pulled up his overcoat collar and moved away towards the Marine Parade at a tidy step, without accounting for what he had seen.
The Albemarle was situated in a favoured position overlooking the Chain Pier, its crenellated facade and porticoed entrance proclaiming it one of the more exclusive hotels in a fashionable terrace. The crimson velvet curtains at the dining-room windows were only half-drawn, so that passersby were treated to glimpses of waiters dancing attendance with silver coffee-pots. Moscrop paced the pavement opposite, like a sentry. Cabs were beginning to line the kerbs in anticipation of trade; this evening most would be making for the Dome. The ball in the regiment’s honour was certain to be one of the principal events of the season.
He took out his watch and held it to the light. Half past eight, she had said, and it was already twenty minutes to nine. Perhaps it was less easy to slip away unobtrusively than she had thought.
The hotel door opened and a figure emerged. Not Zena, unhappily. A man in full evening dress, with cape and stick. As he stepped forward to secure a cab, his face passed close to the ornamental lamp attached to one of the columns. Dr. Prothero, for sure. The spry movements would have given him away if the lamp had not. He was across the pavement and into a growler so fast that he might have been going to a patient in labour. The driver executed a neat turn in the road and made off in the direction of Black Rock and-Moscrop reflected-Lewes Crescent.
Others followed at intervals, couples mostly, fussing over their gowns and cloaks as they negotiated the carriage-steps. Almost nine o’clock. Had she forgotten? With Prothero gone, what could be keeping her?
On turning, he practically collided with a female figure wrapped in a shawl.
‘What the devil. .?’ She had appeared from nowhere.
‘Hello, Mr. Moscrop.’
Bridget’s voice, dammit. She drew back the shawl a little and he could see that malapert little face beaming delightedly at the effect it produced on him.
‘Caught you by surprise, didn’t I? There’s another entrance round the corner and scarcely anyone uses it. Have you got the formula for my mistress?’
‘I was intending to hand it to her personally.’
‘Well you can’t, can you? She ain’t here. Oh, yes, I’ve to tell you that she’s sorry she can’t come down. She took to her bed straight after dinner to please Dr. Prothero-him being set on an evening out and wanting to see her asleep before he went.’
‘Asleep, you say. Did she take the sleeping-draught?’
Bridget winked in a most embarrassing fashion. ‘No, she was foxing when he looked in on her. She’s taking no more of that stuff until she hears from you. But of course she can’t come down here in her night-things, and nor could you go up, being a gentleman.’
‘Indeed not!’
‘So that’s why I’ve been sent down, to act as messenger. Have you found out what it is she’s been taking?’
He felt in his breast pocket for the piece of blue paper on which the chemist had summarised the result of his analysis. ‘Perhaps you will kindly convey this to Mrs. Prothero, then. It will set her mind at rest. The preparation is nothing more sinister than chloral hydrate. You probably know it as chloral. Thousands dose themselves with it to induce sleep. Taken to excess, it can produce a morbid condition known as chloralism, but the solution your mistress has is unlikely to have that effect.’
‘I told you he wasn’t poisoning her.’
‘There has never been any suggestion that he was. I think you should guard your tongue, young lady. Good God! What was that?’
A crack like a pistol-shot from behind them. Someone along the street screamed in fright. A dog started
