allowing of almost no privacy at all, they have a number of witnesses to swear they were here or there, well observed, at the time. Many of them share one room with an entire family, or were working, or in a public house.”
Byam’s face quickened with hope. “But not all?”
“No, not all,” Drummond agreed. “Pitt and his men are pursuing those who were alone, or only with their wives, whose testimony cannot be relied upon. It would be most natural for a wife to say her husband was with her, as soon as she understood the meaning of the questions.” Drummond shifted his position a fraction. “And of course word of Weems’s murder spread very quickly. Some who lived outside the Clerkenwell area had not heard. But the very fact that the police are inquiring is a warning to them that something serious is amiss. They have the arts of survival.”
“Not very promising.” Byam attempted to sound light-hearted, but there was a catch in his voice; the smoothness of it was gone, the timbre thin, and the knuckles of his hands on the chair back were white.
“There is another list,” Drummond said quickly. “Of people who have borrowed considerably more heavily.”
“Why did you not try them first?” Byam asked, not abruptly, but with obvious failure to understand what seemed to him so plain a point.
“Because they are gentlemen,” Drummond replied, and phrased that way he disliked the sound of it himself. “Because they were borrowing equally according to their means,” he added. “Perhaps less. And probably they have a better likelihood of coming by the extra to repay, should their ordinary income not stretch to it. They would have possessions to sell, if that were a last resort.”
“Perhaps he was blackmailing them also,” Byam suggested.
“We had thought of that.” Drummond nodded fractionally. “Pitt will investigate that also, but it must be done with discretion, and some care, simply in order to learn the truth. Men do not usually admit easily to such things.” He met Byam’s wide, dark eyes and saw the flicker of humor in them, self-mocking. “And other secrets may not be as merely tragic as yours. They may be something for which one would have to prosecute.”
“I suppose that is true,” Byam conceded. Suddenly he became aware that Drummond was still standing. “I’m sorry! Please sit-I cannot, I simply find it too difficult to relax myself. Does it discomfit you?”
“Not at all,” Drummond lied. As a matter of courtesy he could not admit that it did. Accordingly he resumed the seat he had occupied while talking to Eleanor, and stared up at Byam still standing behind the other chair, his fingers grasping its back.
“What surprised me,” Drummond went on, “is that whoever murdered Weems did not take his list of names. It would seem such an obvious thing to do.”
Byam hesitated, looked down, and then up again facing Drummond.
“What did you do with his record of my payments to him? Does your man Pitt have it?” He swallowed painfully. “And the letter?”
“We didn’t find either of them,” Drummond replied, watching him closely.
Byam’s eyes darkened; it was almost imperceptible, a tightening of the muscles of the face, a stiffening of the body under the fine wool of his coat. It was too quick and too subtle to be assumed. It was fear, mastered almost as soon as it was there.
“Did he search properly?” Byam demanded. His voice was very slightly altered in pitch, just a fraction higher, as if his throat was tight. “Where else would Weems keep such things? Isn’t that where he lived? You said you found his other records there.”
“Yes we did,” Drummond agreed. “And that is where he lived. I can only presume the murderer either took them or destroyed them, although we found no evidence of anything having been burned or torn up. Or else Weems lied to you, and there never was any account of your dealings. Why should he keep a record of such things? It was not a debt.”
“Presumably to safeguard himself from my taking any action against him,” Byam said sharply. “He was not a fool. He must have been threatened with retaliation before.” He closed his eyes and leaned forward a little, dropping his head. “Dear God. If whoever murdered him took it, what will they do with it?” His hands curled on the back of the chair, his fingers white with the pressure he was exerting in his grip. His voice was husky with strain. “And the letter?”
“If it was a desperate man, like yourself,” Drummond said quietly, “he will most likely destroy them both, along with the evidence that implicates him. We found no evidence of other blackmail, just simple debts-”
“Unless the second list was blackmail,” Byam said, looking up at him, his face pale. “You said they were men of means. Why should such people borrow from a petty usurer like Weems? If I wanted extra money I wouldn’t go to the back streets of Clerkenwell, I’d go to a bank, or at worst I’d sell one of the pictures or something of that sort.”
“I don’t know,” Drummond confessed, feeling inadequate, angry with himself for such a futile answer. “Perhaps they had no possessions to sell, they may be in trust, or possibly they did not wish their families to be aware of their difficulties. Men need money for many things, not all of them they wish to have known.”
Byam’s mouth tightened; again the bleak humor was there.
“Well, falling into the hands of a usurer is no way out. Every week just digs you in the deeper. Anyone but a fool knows that.”
“It is possible he bought someone else’s debts,” Drummond said slowly.
Byam laughed, a low, gentle sound utterly without pleasure.
“You are trying to comfort me, but you are reaching for straws. It must have been whoever killed him who took both the list and Laura’s letter to me, and I can only pray it was because all Weems’s records were together and he had no time or inclination to look through them and find his own, and that he will not use it for gain.”
“If he does, he will betray himself as having killed Weems,” Drummond reasoned. “That would be a very dangerous thing to do.”
Byam took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.
“Please God,” he said quietly.
“At least it tends to vindicate you,” Drummond pointed out, seeing something to encourage him. “Had you known the evidence implicating you had been taken away, or destroyed, you would not have called me and told me of your involvement. You had no need to say anything at all.”
Byam smiled thinly. “Something to cling to,” he agreed. “Do you think your man Pitt will see it that way?”
“Pitt is a better detective than I am,” Drummond said frankly. “He will think of anything I do, and more.”
“But what can he do?” Byam’s face furrowed. “He can’t arrest a man simply because he cannot prove he was elsewhere. Did you find the gun?”
“No-but we found the shot.”
“Not a great achievement,” Byam said dryly. “Presumably it was still in Weems’s body. How does that help?”
“It was gold,” Drummond answered, watching Byam’s face.
“It was what?” Byam was incredulous. “You mean golden bullets? A nice touch, but who on earth would be bothered to do that, let alone have the gold to use? That doesn’t make sense!”
“Not gold bullets,” Drummond explained. “Gold coin. It may have been Weems’s own money. The trouble is there was no gun in the room capable of firing it. There was a hackbut on the wall, a beautiful thing, a collector’s piece, which is presumably why he had it, but the firing pin had been filed down. There was no way anyone fired it in years.”
“Then he brought his own gun,” Byam reasoned. “And took it with him when he left, along with whatever papers he wanted. Perhaps he brought his own ammunition, then preferred the gold, as a touch of irony.”
Drummond raised his eyebrows. “And Weems sat in his chair and watched him load, take aim and fire?”
Byam sighed and turned away, walking slowly to the window.
“You are right. It makes no sense.”
“Can you tell me anything about Weems?” Drummond asked quietly. “You went to his office several times, you said. Did anyone else call while you were there? Did he say anything about anyone else, mention any other debtors, or victims of blackmail?” He put his hands in his pockets and stood looking at Byam’s back, his hunched shoulders. “What kind of a man was he? Was he cruel, did he enjoy the power he had over you? Was he afraid? Careful? Did he take any precautions against visitors?”
