But that would have been to give way to himself, and would defeat his objective. He sat down to indicate that he intended to take some time.
Jerome sat also, arranging his coat and trousers with care. Opposite Pitt, who spread out like dumped laundry, Jerome was meticulous. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.
'How long have you taught Arthur and Godfrey Way-boume?' Pitt began.
'Three years and ten months,' Jerome replied.
'Then Arthur would have been twelve and Godfrey nine?' Pitt calculated.
'Bravo.' Jerome's voice went down at the end in weary sarcasm.
Pitt restrained his inclination to retaliate.
'Then you must know both boys well. You have observed them through most important years, the change from child to youth,' he said instead.
'Naturally.'
There was still no interest in Jerome's face, no anticipation of what was to come. Had Waybourne told him anything of the details of Arthur's death or merely of the death itself? Pitt watched him more closely, waiting for surprise in the round eyes, disgust-or any kind of fear.
'You are aware of their friends, even if you do not know them personally?' he continued.
46
'To a limited extent.' This time Jerome was more guarded, not willing to commit himself where he could not foresee.
There was no delicate way of approaching the subject. If Jerome had observed any strange personal habits in either of his charges, he could hardly afford to admit it now. And a wise tutor who wished to retain his position made it his business not to see the less attractive attributes of his employers or their friends. Pitt understood before he asked. Anything must be framed in such a way that Jerome could pretend only now to understand the meaning of what he had seen.
To be direct seemed the only avenue. He tried to make himself sound frank, to hide his instinctive dislike.
'Did Sir Anstey tell you the cause of Arthur's death?' he asked, leaning forward in an unconscious attempt to do physically what he could not do emotionally.
Jerome sat back at the same moment, viewing Pitt with a frown.
'I believe he was attacked in the street,' he replied. 'I haven't heard more than that.' His nostrils flared delicately. 'Are the details important, Inspector?'
'Yes, Mr. Jerome, they are very important indeed. Arthur Wayboume was drowned,' He watched closely: Was the incrudulity feigned, a little too much?
'Drowned?' Jerome regarded him as if he had made an attempt at humor that was repellent. Then comprehension flashed across his face. 'You mean in the river?'
'No, Mr. Jerome, in a bath.'
Jerome spread out his manicured hands. His eyes were bleak.
' 'If this sort of idiocy is part of your method of interrogation, Inspector, I find it unnecessary and most unpleasant.'
Pitt could not disbelieve him. Such a dry, sour man could not be so consummate an actor, or he would have shown humor, learned charm to make his own path easier.
'No,' Pitt answered him. 'I mean it quite literally. Arthur Waybourne was drowned in bathwater, and his naked body put down a manhole into the sewers.'
Jerome stared at him. 'In God's name! What's happening?
47
Why-I mean-who? How could-for heaven's sake, man, it's
preposterous!' j
