She reached out to touch his arm. 'But he is afraid of sleep, Doctor!
That is when he dreams…”
'Miss Latterly, I know very well that you have his interests at heart.”
His voice was quite quiet, almost gentle, but there was no mistaking the iron in his will. 'But his injuries are severe, more severe than you are aware of. I cannot risk his becoming agitated again and perhaps tearing them open. The results could be fatal.' He stared at her earnestly. 'This is not the kind of violence either you or I are accustomed to dealing with. We know war and its heroes, which, God knows, are horrible enough. This is the trial of a different kind of strength. We must protect him from himself, at least for a while. In a few weeks he may be better, we can only hope.”
There was nothing she could do but acquiesce.
'Thank you.' His face softened. 'I am sure we shall work together excellently. We have much in common, tests of endurance and judgement we have both passed.' He smiled briefly, a look of pain and uncertainty, then turned and continued on up the stairs.
Hesterand Sylvestra waited in the withdrawing room. They sat on either side of the fire, stiff-backed, upright, speaking only occasionally, in stifled, jerky sentences.
'I have known Corriden Wade for years,' Sylvestra said suddenly. 'He was an excellent friend of my husband's. Leighton trusted him absolutely. He will do everything for Rhys that is possible.”
'Of course. I have heard of him. His reputation is excellent. Very high.”
'Is it? Yes. Yes, of course it is.”
Minutes ticked by. The coals settled in the fire. Neither of them moved to ring the bell for the maid to add more.
'His sister… Eglantyne, is a dear friend of mine.”
'Yes. He told me. He said she may call upon you soon.”
'I hope so. Did he say that?”
'Yes.”
'Should you be… with him?”
'No. He said it would be better if he went alone. Less disturbing.”
'Will it?”
'I don't know.”
More minutes ticked by. Hester decided to rebuild the fire herself.
Corriden Wade returned, his face grim.
'How is he?' Sylvestra demanded, her voice tight and high with fear.
She rose to her feet without being aware of it.
'He is very ill, my dear,' he replied quietly. 'But I have every hope that he will recover. He must have as much rest as possible. Do not permit him to be disturbed again. He can tell the police nothing. He must not be harassed as he was today. Any reminder of the terrible events which he undoubtedly both saw and suffered, will make him considerably worse. They may even cause a complete relapse. That is hardly to be wondered at.”
He looked at Hester. 'We must protect him, Miss Latterly. I trust you to do that! I shall leave you some powders to give him in warm milk, or beef tea should he prefer it, which will help him to sleep deeply, and without dreams.' He frowned. 'And I must insist absolutely that you do not speak of his ordeal, or bring it to his mind in any way. He is not able to recall anything of it without the most terrible distress. That is natural to a young man of any decency or sensitivity whatever. I imagine you or I would feel exactly the same.”
Hester had no doubt that what he said was true. She had seen it only too vividly herself.
'Of course,' she agreed. 'Thank you. I shall be glad to see him find some ease, and some rest that is without trouble.”
He smiled at her. His face was charming, full of warmth.
'I am sure you are, Miss Latterly. He is fortunate to have you with him. I shall continue to call every day, but do not hesitate to send for me more often if you should need me.' He turned to Sylvestra. 'I believe Eglantyne will come tomorrow, if she may? May I tell her you will receive her?”
At last Sylvestra too relaxed a little, a faint smile touching her lips.
'Please do. Thank you, Corriden. I cannot imagine how we would have survived this without your kindness, and your skill.”
He looked vaguely uncomfortable. 'I wish… I wish it were not necessary. This is all… tragic… quite tragic.' He straightened up. 'I shall call again tomorrow, my dear, until then, have courage.
We shall do all we can, Miss Latterly and I.”
Chapter Three
Monk sat alone in the large chair in his rooms in Fitzroy Street. He was unaware of Evan's case, or of Hester's involvement with one of the victims. He had not seen Hester for more than two weeks, and it was high to the front of his mind that he did not wish to see her in the immediate future. His participation in Rathbone's slander case had taken him to the Continent, both to Venice and to the small German principality of Felzburg. It had given him a taste of an entirely different life of glamour, wealth and idleness, laughter and superficiality, which he had found highly seductive. There were also elements not unfamiliar to him. It had awoken memories of his distant past, before he had joined the police. He had struggled hard to catch them more firmly, and failed. Like all the rest, it was lost but for a few glimpses now and then, sudden windows opening, showing only a little, and then closing again and leaving him more confused than before.
He had fallen in love with Evelyn von Seidlitz. At least he thought it was love. It was certainly delicious, exciting, filling his mind and very definitely quickening his pulse. He had been hurt, but not as profoundly surprised as he should have been, to discover she was shallow and, under the surface charm and wit, thoroughly selfish. By the end of the matter he had longed for Hester's leaner, harder virtues, her honesty, her love of courage and truth. Even her morality and frequently self-righteous opinions had a kind of cleanness to them, like a sweet, cold wind after heat and a cloud of flies.
He leaned forward and picked up the poker to move the coals. He prodded at them viciously. He did not wish to think of Hester. She was arbitrary, arrogant and at times pompous, a fault he had hitherto thought entirely a masculine one. He could not afford to be vulnerable to such thoughts.
He had no case of interest at present, which added to his dark mood.
There were petty thefts to deal with, usually either a servant who was tragically easy to apprehend, or a housebreaker who was almost impossible, appearing out of the massed tens of thousands of the slums, and disappearing into them again within the space of an hour.
But such cases were better than no work at all. He could always go and see if there was any information Rathbone wanted, but that was a last resort, as a matter of pride. He liked Rathbone. They had shared many causes and dangers together. They had worked with every ounce of imagination, courage and intelligence for too many common purposes not to know a certain strength in each other which demanded admiration. And because they had shared both triumph and failure, they had a bond of friendship.
But there was also an irritation, a difference which rankled too often, pride and judgements which clashed rather than complemented. And there was always Hester. She both drew them together, and kept them apart.
But he preferred not to think about Hester, especially in relation to Rathbone.
He was pleased when the doorbell rang and a minute la tera woman came in. She was in early middle-age, but handsome in a full-blown, obvious way. Her mouth was too large, but sensuously shaped, her eyes were magnificent, her bones rather too well padded with flesh. Her figure was definitely buxom. Her clothes were dark and plain, of indifferent quality, but there was an air about her which at once proclaimed a confidence, even a brashness. She was neither a lady, nor one who associated with ladies.
'Are you William Monk?' she asked before he had time to speak. 'Yes, I can see you are.' She looked him up and down very candidly. 'Yer've changed. Can't say what, exac'ly, but yer different. Point is…
are yer still any good?”
'Yes, I am extremely good!' he replied warily. It seemed she knew him, but he had no idea who she was,
