impatiently. Horses stamped and whinnied, jingling harnesses.
Lucius sat rigid, still unspeaking.
Stourbridge clenched and unclenched his hands.
They moved forward again at last.
Monk would tell Robb as little as possible. All they knew for certain was that Miriam had left at the same moment as Treadwell. How far they had gone together was another matter. Should he warn Stourbridge and Lucius to say no more about Miriam than they had to?
He looked at their tense faces, each staring into space, consumed in their fears, and decided that any advice would only be overridden by emotion and probably do more harm than good. If they remembered it to begin with, then forgot, it would give the impression of dishonesty.
He kept silent also.
They reached the morgue at ten minutes past four. Robb was already there, pacing restlessly up and down, but he made no comment on the time as they alighted. They were all too eager to complete the business for which they had come to do more than acknowledge each other with the briefest courtesies and then follow Robb inside.
The morgue attendant drew the sheet back from the body, showing only the head.
Lucius drew in his breath sharply and seemed to sway a little on his feet.
Stourbridge let out a soft sigh. He was a soldier, and he must have seen death many times before, and usually of men he had known to a greater or lesser extent, but this was a man of his own household, and murder was different from war. War was not an individual evil. Soldiers expected to kill and be killed. Frequently, they even respected their enemies. There was no hatred involved. The violence was huge and impersonal. It did not make the pain less, or the death or the bereavement less final, but death in war was mischance. This was different, a close, intended and covert evil, meant for this man alone.
'Is it your coachman, sir?' Robb asked, but he could not help being aware that the question was unnecessary. The recognition was in both their faces.
'Yes, it is,' Stourbridge said quietly. 'This is James Treadwell. Where did you find him?'
The morgue attendant drew back the sheet to cover the face.
'In the street, sir,' Robb replied, leading them away from the table and back towards the door. 'On the path to one of a row of houses on Green Man Hill, about half a mile or so from here.' Robb was sympathetic, but the detective in him was paramount. 'Are you aware of his knowing anyone in this area?'
'What?' Stourbridge looked up. 'Oh … no, I don’t think so. He is a nephew of our cook. I can ask her. I have no idea where he went on his days off.'
'Was it one of his days off when he disappeared, sir?'
'No…'
'Did he have your permission to use your coach, sir?'
Stourbridge hesitated a moment before replying. He looked across at Lucius, then away again.
'No, he did not. I am afraid the circumstances of his leaving the house are somewhat mysterious, and not understood by any of us, Sergeant. We know when he left, but nothing more than that.'
'You knew he had taken your coach,' Robb pointed out. 'But you did not report it to the police. It is a very handsome coach, sir, and exceptionally well matched horses. Worth a considerable amount.'
'Major Stourbridge has already mentioned that Treadwell was related to his cook,' Monk interrupted, 'who is a longstanding servant of the family. He wished to avoid scandal, if possible. He hoped Treadwell would come to his senses and return … even with a reasonable explanation.'
Lucius could bear it no longer. 'My fiancee was with him!' he burst out. 'Mrs. Miriam Gardiner. It was to find her that we employed Mr. Monk’s services. Treadwell is beyond our help, poor soul, but where is Miriam? We should be turning all our skill and attention to searching for her! She may be hurt … in danger …' His voice was rising out of control as his imagination tortured him.
Robb looked startled for a moment, then his jaw hardened. He did not even glance at Monk. 'Do I understand Mrs. Gardiner left your house in the carriage with Treadwell driving?' he demanded.
'We believe so,' Stourbridge answered before Lucius could speak. 'No one saw them go.' He seemed to have appreciated something of the situation in spite of Monk’s silence. 'But we have not heard from her since, nor do we know what has happened to her. We are at our wits’ end with worry.'
'We must look for her!' Lucius cut across them. 'Treadwell is dead and Miriam may be in danger. At the very least she must be in fear and distress. You must deploy every man you can to search for her!'
Robb stood still for a moment, surprise taking the words from him. Then slowly he turned to Monk, his eyes narrow and hard. 'You omitted to mention that a young woman was a passenger in the carriage when Treadwell was murdered and that she has since disappeared. Why is that, Mr. Monk?'
Monk had foreseen the question, though there was no excuse that was satisfactory, and Robb would know that as well as he did.
'Mrs. Gardiner left with Treadwell,' he replied with as honest a bearing as he could. 'We have no idea when she left him….'
Lucius was staring at him, his eyes wide and horrified.
'Sophistry!' Robb snapped.
'Reality!' Monk returned with equal harshness. 'This was five days ago. If anything happened to Mrs. Gardiner we are far too late to affect it now, except by careful thought and consideration before we act.' He was acutely conscious of Lucius and of Harry Stourbridge. Their emotions filled the air. 'If she met with violence as well, she would have been found long before now.' He did not glance at either of them but kept his eyes level on Robb. 'If she was kidnapped, then a ransom will be asked for, and it has not so far. If she witnessed the murder, then she may well have run away, for her own safety, and we must be careful how we look for her, in case we bring upon her the very harm she fears.' He drew in his breath. 'And until Major Stourbridge identified the body as that of Treadwell, we did not know that it was anything more than a domestic misunderstanding between Mr. Stourbridge and Mrs. Gardiner.'
Lucius stood appalled.
Stourbridge looked from one to the other of them. 'We know now,' he said grimly. 'The question is what we are to do next.'
'Discover all the facts that we can,' Monk answered him. 'And then deduce what we can from them.'
Robb bit his lip, his face pale. He turned to Lucius. 'You have no idea why Mrs. Gardiner left your home?'
'No, none at all,' Lucius said quickly. 'There was no quarrel, no incident at all which sparked it. Mrs. Gardiner was standing alone, watching the croquet match when, without warning or explanation, she simply left.'
'With Treadwell?'
'She left in the carriage,' Stourbridge corrected him. 'She could hardly have driven it herself.'
A flash of irritation crossed Robb’s face and then disappeared, as if he had remembered their distress. 'Had Mrs. Gardiner any previous acquaintance with Treadwell, perhaps through the cook?'
'No,' Lucius said instantly. 'She had met no one in the house before I first took her there.'
'Where did you meet Mrs. Gardiner?'
'On Hampstead Heath. Why? It is natural enough that he should bring her back here. She lives on Lyndhurst Road.'
Robb pursed his lips. 'That is about three quarters of a mile from where the carriage was found, and rather more from where Treadwell’s body was. I assume you have already been to her home to see if she was there?'
'Of course! No one has seen her since she left to come to Bayswater,' Lucius answered. 'It is the first place we looked. Please, tell us what you know of Treadwell’s death, I beg you.'
They were outside in the street again now. Lucius stood breathing deeply, as if trying to clear his lungs of the choking air of the morgue with its close smell of death. Even so, he did not take his eyes from Robb’s face.
'We know nothing except that he was murdered,' Robb replied. 'We did not even know his name until you gave it to us, although from his clothes we assumed his occupation.'
'Was there nothing found in the carriage?' Stourbridge asked with a frown. 'No marks or stains to indicate where it had been? What about the horses? Are they hurt?'
'No, they were lost, confused, aware that something was wrong. There was nothing to indicate they had
