else was he to do? Pity he had not taken the opportunity a few minutes ago of telling Adelina-but the thought of Adelina was highly uncomfortable at the moment, better removed from mind. He must find Jemima and tell her she must leave. He need not explain to her precisely why, which would be most embarrassing-he could avoid that very well on the claim that he would not accuse her before the police did, and perhaps jeopardize the justice of her cause. Yes, that sounded excellent. He even felt a flush of rectitude, and rose from the table to set about it immediately.
Charlotte heard of it at midday when Jemima arrived on the doorstep, white-faced, a boxchest on the pavement beside her, a hansom clopping away already reaching the corner of the street. She must have stood on the step for some moments, afraid to knock.
Charlotte answered the door herself, since there was no one else; one would hardly wish to send Mrs. Wickes, with her hands wet, apron splashed, hair sprouting like a bollard willow.
“Jemima!” She saw the chest. “Whatever has happened? Come in, you look frozen and starved. Can you lift the other end of the box with me? We can’t leave it there, or someone may steal it.”
Obediently Jemima bent, and a few minutes later they were both inside and Charlotte looked at her more closely.
“What is it?” she said gently. “Has Mr. Southeron accused you of blackmailing him?”
Jemima looked up, shock and a kind of relief in her face that she did not have to break the news herself.
“You know?”
Charlotte was ashamed now for not having warned her, although perhaps it would have done little good. She should have thought of some way for Pitt to prevent Reggie giving tongue to his lies.
“Yes. I meant to tell you when I came the other day.” She put out her hands and clasped Jemima’s. “I’m so sorry. When I saw how you felt about Brandy Balantyne, I couldn’t speak of Reggie and his maids in the same breath, for fear you would think I believed you were no better.”
Jemima looked bewildered, but there was no accusation in her eyes.
“How did you know?” she repeated. “Does everyone know except me?” She swallowed hard. “Why, Charlotte? Why should he say such a thing? Certainly he lay with Mary Ann, but everyone knew! I never spoke of it, least of all to him-and asking for money! Why should he say I did?”
“Because someone was blackmailing him, and he did not wish to tell the truth of it,” Charlotte replied. “It was easy to blame you, because you are least likely to be able to defend yourself.”
“But why should anyone blackmail him over that? It is rather squalid, it is true, and it is an abuse of Mary Ann, and of his wife; but it is not a crime; it would not even be so much of a scandal: not worth paying to avoid, anyway.”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte admitted. “But come and sit down. Let me make you something to drink to warm you. I think I have a little cocoa. We must plan what to do next.” She busied herself quickly. They were in the kitchen anyway, it being the warmest room in the house. Charlotte could not afford to burn a fire in the parlor except in the evenings. Mrs. Wickes had finished the floor and gone upstairs to sweep, so they were alone.
“You can sleep in the nursery,” Charlotte went on, stirring the cocoa with a wooden spoon to get rid of the lumps. “The bed is a little small, but it will do you for a while. I’m afraid it is all we have-”
“I can’t stay here,” Jemima said quickly. “Oh, Charlotte, I am grateful, but the police will be looking for me soon. Blackmail is a crime, you know. I cannot bring that disgrace upon you-”
“Oh!” Charlotte turned round in surprise, forgetting Jemima knew so little of her. “Don’t worry about that. My husband is a policeman; in fact he is the policeman in charge of this case. He knows you did not blackmail anyone. At least,” she corrected herself, “he does not believe you did. Don’t worry, he will discover the truth. And Dr. Bolsover has been murdered. Did you know that? I found his body this morning. I was on the way again to warn you about Mr. Southeron when I nearly fell over it. Maybe he was the real blackmailer.”
“You-the police-?” Jemima was utterly confused. “But, but you are not married. Are you not Lady Ashworth’s sister? At least that is what General Balantyne said. I obtained your address from him this morning. I had to lie. I said I wished to write you a letter.” She winced and looked down for a moment. “Before Mr. Southeron should tell anyone about me and I should find no one would open their doors to me. I did not know who else to turn to-” Her eyes brimmed over and she dropped her head to hide her distress.
Charlotte put down the cocoa and went to her, putting her arms round her. For a little while Jemima wept silently; then she pulled herself together, blew her nose hard, excused herself to wash her face, and returned downstairs to take cocoa, now ready, and biscuits. Afterward she faced Charlotte and declared herself ready for battle.
Charlotte smiled back at her.
“Thomas will discover the truth,” she said firmly, although she knew that that was not necessarily the case. Sometimes crimes remained unsolved. “And if possible we shall help him,” she went on, “to have it done the more quickly. I think I must send a letter to Emily, to acquaint her with the latest events. She may be able to assist us too.”
“You are marvelous,” Jemima smiled rather weakly. “Are you so used to murders, that they do not frighten you anymore?”
“Oh no!” The horror of Cater Street came back to her with all its terror and grief. She felt a quick prickle of tears for Sarah. “Oh no,” she said quietly. “They frighten me very much, not just murder, but all the other dark things it stirs in even those who are barely involved in the first crime. It seems so often one crime begets another. People do such strange things to cover guilt. We can become so cruel and so selfish when we are afraid. Murder and investigation reveal to us so many things about each other which we would rather not have known. Believe me, I am frightened by it. But I think I would prefer that it should always frighten me. Not to be frightened would mean that I had lost the understanding of it. But it is my nature to fight, and we shall discover the truth of this yet, whomever it may involve!”
When Pitt arrived home late that evening he was only mildly surprised to see Jemima sitting with Charlotte by the fire. She was both embarrassed and nervous to begin with, but he went to some effort to put her at ease, even though he was appallingly tired, and by the time she retired, she looked as if she might sleep.
After she had gone, he told Charlotte that Reggie had accused her of the murder of Freddie also, and was relieved that Charlotte did not blaze up in temper, nor dissolve in tears, although he had never considered the latter likely.
In the morning he set out again to Callander Square, walking some part of the distance, the better to enable himself to think.
He did not doubt for a moment that Freddie Bolsover had been murdered because he was a blackmailer. He was inclined to think that it was not Reggie Southeron, if only because he lacked the nerve, and had seemed to be totally shocked by the news of the discovery of the body. Surely if he had known anything about it, he would have been prepared with a more plausible story.
But if it was not Reggie, then who were the other suspects? Surely in Callander Square there were enough secrets worth paying to keep!
He would begin with Balantyne.
He found him at home and quite willing to see him. He was shown into the morning room and a moment later the general came in, still looking grave from the news of Freddie’s murder the day before.
“Good morning, Inspector. Have you discovered something further about poor Freddie?”
“Yes, quite a lot, sir. None of it very pleasant, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t. Wretched business, poor fellow. You said yesterday he was stabbed. Was there something else?”
“Perhaps I didn’t explain myself very well. I meant that what I had discovered was about Dr. Bolsover himself, not the murder; although I believe it was the cause.”
“Oh?” Balantyne frowned slightly. “What do you mean? Not something to do with the babies in the square, surely? Always thought Freddie was a pretty sober sort of chap, not given to playing the fool with other women.”
“Not directly to do with the babies, but perhaps indirectly. He was a blackmailer.”
Balantyne stared at him.
“Blackmailer?” he repeated foolishly. “Whatever makes you think anything-so-vile?”
“One of his victims.”
