anxiety, and helpless even to know which way to turn to defend himself. He could not prove the original charge was untrue. He could not prove he had not killed the man on his doorstep, Cole or Slingsby. The fact that it was Slingsby did not clear Balantyne of suspicion; Slingsby could have been a messenger of the blackmailer.
Most of all as Pitt went down the stairs again and out into the hot, dusty street, he thought of Cornwallis, and the misery which he must feel this morning as he realized that the threats were fully intended and the blackmailer had no hesitation in carrying them out. He had the will and the means. He had demonstrated it now beyond doubt or hope.
Pitt was received in the Tannifer house immediately and was shown to Parthenope’s boudoir, that peculiarly feminine sitting room where ladies read, embroidered, or gossiped pleasantly together with very rare intrusion from men.
This particular room was unlike others he had been in. The colors were very simple and cool, with none of the usual oriental affectations that had become so fashionable over the last decade. It was most individual, catering entirely to the taste of its owner, making no concessions to what was expected. The curtains were plain, cool green, no flowers. Similarly, the green glazed vase on the small table had no blooms; its own shape was sufficient ornament. The furniture was simple, old, very English.
“Thank you for coming so rapidly, Mr. Pitt,” Parthenope said as soon as the maid had closed the door. She was dressed in dusky blue-gray with a white fichu at the throat, and it became her well enough, in spite of being rather severe. Something softer would have disguised her angular proportions. She looked extremely distressed and made no attempt to hide it. The morning newspaper was lying on the table beside her chair. Her embroidery was in a heap next to it, the needle stuck into the linen. Silks in shades of brown and taupe and cream spilled all around it where she had presumably left it last. Scissors and a silver thimble were on the carpet, as if dropped in haste.
“Have you seen it?” she demanded, pointing her finger at the newspaper. She stood in the center of the room, too angry to sit.
“Good morning, Mrs. Tannifer. If you are referring to the article about Sir Guy Stanley, yes, I have read it, and I have spoken to Sir Guy himself-”
“Have you?” she cut across him. “How is he?” Her eyes were bright, her face full of concern and pity, for a moment the fear overridden.
“Do you know him?” He was interested.
“No.” She shook her head quickly. “But I can imagine what pain he is enduring at the moment.”
“You assume he is innocent of the implications in the article,” Pitt said with some surprise. It was a kinder judgment than many people would be making.
She smiled briefly, like a flash of sunlight, there and gone. “I suppose that is because I know my husband is innocent. Am I mistaken?” That was a demand, almost a challenge.
“Not so far as I know,” he replied. “Sir Guy is a victim of the same letter writer as Mr. Tannifer, and therefore I believe him when he says the charge is unfounded.”
Her voice dropped a little. “But he had the courage to defy him … as the Duke of Wellington said, ‘Publish and be damned!’ How I admire him!” Her voice rang with sincerity, and there was a faint flush in her cheeks. “What a terrible price to pay. I cannot imagine he will now obtain the post in the government that he desired. His only comfort will be his own courage, and perhaps the respect of those friends who know him well enough to dismiss the accusation.” She took a deep breath and straightened her slender shoulders. There was a warmth in her tone that lent an extraordinary beauty to her voice. “I hope we shall face the future as well. I shall write to him this morning and tell him of my regard for him. It may be of some small comfort. It is all I can do.”
He did not know how to answer her. He did not want to lie, and perhaps he could not afford to if he were to learn anything from her; but neither was he prepared to lay open Stanley’s confidences, and his own personal doubts.
“You hesitate, Mr. Pitt,” she observed, watching him closely. “There is something you do not wish to tell me. It is worse than I feared?”
“No, Mrs. Tannifer, I was merely considering how to phrase what I say so I do not betray confidences. Even though Sir Guy Stanley and Mr. Tannifer are in the same situation, I would not discuss one with the other to their embarrassment.”
“Of course!” she agreed quickly. “That is admirable. But have you learned anything more about who this devil may be? Surely all information must be helpful? I … I called you today not just because I am at my wit’s end to know what to do, how even to begin to fight this battle, but because I have information to give you myself. Please sit down.” She indicated the soft, plain chair opposite her own.
Pitt did as he was bid as soon as she had seated herself. Suddenly there was a lift of hope.
“Yes, Mrs. Tannifer? What have you learned?”
She leaned forward a little, leaving her skirts disarranged as they had crumpled in the chair. “We have received a second letter, in much the same terms as the first, but rather more direct, using words like
“But did he ask for anything, Mrs. Tannifer?”
“No.” She shook her head. Her thin hands were clenched in her lap, her eyes grave and troubled. “He seems to be some kind of monster who merely wishes to inflict pain and terror upon people for no gain to himself beyond the pleasure it affords him.” She looked at him with desperate earnestness. “But I believe I know who may be another victim, Mr. Pitt. I have hesitated whether to tell you or not, and the fact that I do so may not please my husband. But I am distracted to know how to face this matter and avoid just the kind of ruin he has cost poor Sir Guy Stanley.”
Pitt leaned forward. “Tell me what you know, Mrs. Tannifer. It may help, and I doubt very strongly that it can hurt any more than will be inevitable, regardless of what we do.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was obviously embarrassed by what she had done, and yet the determination in her to fight, to defend her husband, did not waver in the slightest.
“I had been in the study with my husband, discussing the matter. He is far more troubled by it than I believe he allowed you to see. It is much more than financial ruin or the loss of career; it is the knowledge that ordinary people, friends, those whom one admires and whose opinions mean so much, will believe you to be dishonorable … that is what hurts beyond any reparation. Perhaps when all is said and done, a quiet conscience is the greatest possession, but a good name in the eyes of others is second.”
He did not argue. He knew how dear to himself he held the belief in others that he was honest, and perhaps even more, that he was generous, that he never deliberately caused pain.
“What did you hear, Mrs. Tannifer?”
“I had just left, but I did not quite close the door. I was in the hallway when I heard my husband pick up the telephone. We have one; it is an excellent instrument. He placed a call to Mr. Leo Cadell, of the Foreign Office. At first I was about to continue on my way to the kitchen-I was intending to speak to the cook-but I heard his voice change. Suddenly he became very grave, and there was both sympathy and fear in his tone.”
She regarded Pitt intently. “I know my husband very well. We have always been extremely close, and keep nothing from each other. I knew straightaway that Mr. Cadell had told him something grave and confidential. I concluded from what I could hear of my husband’s part of the conversation that Mr. Cadell had asked about raising money, a large amount, at very short notice. He is a man of considerable means, but it does not necessarily follow that a large sum can be realized with ease. Good financial advice is imperative if one is not to lose a great deal.” She took a breath. “Sigmund tried to be of every assistance to him, but I know from what he said that he guessed it was to pay some suddenly incurred debt, the size of which was not yet known, but it could not be avoided or delayed in any way.”
“It does sound as if it could be blackmail,” Pitt agreed. “But if that is the case, he is the first one to be asked for anything specific. No one else has been asked for money at all.”
