him, he should have found someone else already so inclined-stuck to the willing, not have gone scaring the sense out of some child like Titus. He's a nice boy, Titus. A bit like Fanny, only not so clever, thank heaven. Clever girls Fanny's age terrify me. They notice everything and then remark it with
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piercing clarity, at the most unfortunate times. Comes of having too little to do.'
At that point Fanny returned, proudly carrying Charlotte's punch, and Vanderley excused himself and wandered away, leaving Charlotte puzzled and vaguely excited. He had sowed seeds of ideas she had hardly even thought of, and, she believed, neither had Pitt.
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Pitt was quite unaware of Charlotte's enterprise. He was so preoccupied with his own doubts about the proof of Jerome's guilt that he accepted at face value her having gone calling with Great-Aunt Vespasia, something that at another time he would have regarded with sensible suspicion. Charlotte had respect and considerable affection for Aunt Vespasia, but she would not have gone calling with her for purely social reasons. It was a circle in which Charlotte had neither place nor interest.
Concern about Jerome tantalized Pitt's thoughts and made concentration on anything else almost impossible. He performed his other investigations mechanically, so much so that a junior sergeant had to point out to him his oversights, at which Pitt lost his temper, principally because he knew he was at fault, and then had to apologize to the man. To his credit, the man accepted it with grace; he recognized worry when he saw it, and appreciated a senior who could unbend enough to admit fault.
But Pitt knew it for a warning. He must do something more about Jerome or his conscience would intrude further and further until it upset all decent thought and he made some mistake that could not be undone.
Like hanging: that, too, could not be undone. A man imprisoned wrongfully could be released, could begin to rebuild his life. But a man hanged was gone forever.
It was morning. Pitt was sitting at his desk sorting through a pile of reports. He had looked at every sheet and read the words
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with his eyes, but not a single fraction of their meaning penetrated his brain.
Gillivray was sitting opposite, waiting, staring.
Pitt picked the reports upagain and began again at the beginning. Then he looked up. 'Gillivray?'
'Yes, sir?'
'How did you find Abigail Winters?'
'Abigail Winters?' Gillivray frowned.
'That's what I said. How did you find her?'
'Process of elimination, sir,' Gillivray replied a little irritably. 'I investigated lots of prostitutes. I was prepared to go through them all, if necessary. She was about twenty-fifth, or something like that. Why? I can't see that it matters now.'
'Did anyone suggest her to you?'
'Of course they did! How else do you think I find any prostitutes? I don't know them for myself. I got her name from some of the contacts I got the other names from. I didn't get hers from anyone special, if that's what you mean. Look, sir.' He leaned forward over the desk. It was a mannerism that Pitt found particularly irritating. It smacked of familiarity, as if they were professional equals. 'Look, sir,' Gillivray said again. 'We've done our job on the Wayboume case. Jerome has been found guilty by the courts. He was tried fairly, on the testimony of witnesses. And even if you don't have any time for Abigail Winters or her kind-or, God knows, Albie Frobisher either- you've got to admit young Titus Swynford and Godfrey Way-bourne are honest and decent youths, and had no possible connection with the prostitutes. To suggest they did is just running into the absurd. The prosecution has to prove guilt beyond all reasonable doubt, not beyond all doubt at all! And with respect, Mr. Pitt, the doubts you are entertaining now are not reasonable. They are farfetched and ridiculous! The only thing lacking was an eyewitness, and nobody commits a clever and premeditated murder in front of witnesses. Hotblooded killings, yes-out of fear maybe, or temper, or even jealousy. But this was planned and executed with care! Now leave it alone, sir! It's finished. You'll only get yourself into trouble.'
