he was able to tell her of each affair in which he involved himself. Which was what he was doing this evening in the dining room, over an excellent supper of cold pickled eel and fresh summer vegetables. He knew, because she had told him, that there was plum pie and cream to follow, and a fine Stilton cheese.
'It is totally unprovable,' he answered her question. 'There is nothing whatever except Marianne's word for it that the whole event ever took place at all, let alone that it took place as she described it.'
'Do you doubt her?' she said curiously, but there was no offense in her voice.
He hesitated several moments, unsure, now that she asked, whether he did or not. She did not interrupt his silence, nor draw the obvious conclusion, but went on eating her fish.
'Some of what she says is the truth,' he said finally. 'But I think she is also concealing something of importance.'
'That she was willing?' She looked up at him, watching his face.
'No-no I don't think so.'
'Then what?'
'I don't know.'
'And what do they intend to do if you should discover who it is?' she asked with raised eyebrows. 'After all, who could it be? Total strangers do not vault over suburban garden walls in the hope of finding some maiden alone in the summerhouse whom they can ravish, sufficiently quietly not to rouse the gardener or servants, and then leap back again and disappear.'
'You make it sound absurd,' he said dryly, taking a little more of the eel. It really was excellent.
'Life is often absurd,' she replied, passing him the sauce. 'But this is also unlikely, don't you agree?'
'Yes I do.' He spooned sauce onto his plate liberally. 'What is most unlikely is that it is really someone who was a complete stranger to her. If it was someone she knew, who came through the house, and therefore was aware that there was no one within earshot, and that his mere presence would not alarm her, as a stranger would, then it becomes much less unlikely.'
'What concerns me far more,' Callandra went on thoughtfully, 'is what they intend to do when you tell them who it is-if you do.'
It was something which had troubled him also.
Callandra grunted. 'Sounds like a private revenge. I think perhaps you should consider very carefully what you tell them. And William…'
'Yes?'
'You had better be absolutely sure you are right!'
Monk sighed. It was getting uglier and more complicated with each new thought that came to him.
'What impression did you form of the sister and her husband?' Callandra pursued.
'Of them?' He was surprised. 'Very sympathetic to her. I can't believe she has anything to fear from them, even if she did not resist as thoroughly as she might.'
Callandra said nothing. They finished their course in companionable silence and the plum pie was brought in and served. It was so delicious that they both ate without speaking for several minutes, then finally Callandra set her spoon down.
'Have you seen Hester lately?'
'No.'
She smiled with some inner amusement. He felt annoyed and then unaccountably foolish.
'I have not seen her,' he went on. 'The last time we parted it was with less than amiability. She is the most opinionated and abrasive woman I have ever met, and dogmatic to the degree that she does not listen to anyone else. And she is absurdly complacent about it, which makes it insufferable.'
'Qualities you do not like?' she asked innocently.
'Good God no!' he exploded. 'Does anyone?'
'You find firmly held opinions and spirited defense of them displeasing?'
'Yes!' he said vehemently, setting down his spoon momentarily. 'It is unbecoming, irritating in manner, and makes all intelligent and open conversation impossible. Not that most men would be seeking an intelligent conversation with a woman of her age,' he added.
'Especially when her views are mistaken,' she said with her eyes bright.
'That adds to it, of course,' he conceded, quite sure now that she was laughing.
'You know she said something very similar about you when she was here about three weeks ago. She is nursing an elderly lady with a broken leg, but at that point the woman was almost recovered, and I don't think she has a further position offered her yet.'
'Perhaps if she were to guard her tongue a little and make herself more obliging-and modest?' he suggested.
'I am sure you are right,' Callandra agreed. 'With your own experience of the value of such qualities, perhaps you might give her some excellent advice.' She made the suggestion with a face almost wiped of humor.
He looked at her more closely. There was the slightest curl of a smile on her mouth and her eyes avoided his.
'After all,' she continued, keeping a sober expression with an effort, 'intelligent conversation with the open- minded is so agreeable, don't you think?'
'You are twisting my words,' he said between his teeth.
'No I am not,' she denied, looking up at him with quite open affection and amusement. 'You mean that when Hester has an opinion and will not move from it, it is dogmatic and unbecoming and it annoys you incredibly. When you have one it is courageous and committed, and the only path for anyone with integrity. That is what you said, one way or another, and I am quite sure it is what you mean.'.
'You think I am wrong.' He leaned forward on the table.
'Oh frequently. But I should never dare to say so. Would you care for more cream with your pie? I suppose you have not heard from Oliver Rathbone lately either?'
He helped himself to the cream.
'I looked into a minor case for him ten days ago.' Rathbone was the highly successful barrister with whom Monk had worked on all his outstanding cases since the accident. He admired Rathbone's professional ability profoundly and found the man himself both attractive and irritating. There was a suaveness and a self-confidence in him which caught a nerve in Monk's nature. They were too alike in some aspects, and too unalike in others. 'He seemed in excellent health,' he finished with a tight smile, meeting Callandra's eyes. 'And how are you? We have spoken of everything else…'
She looked down at her plate for a moment, then up again at him.
'I am very well, thank you. Do I not look it?'
'Indeed, you look exceptionally well,' he replied truthfully, although he had actually just noticed it for the first time. 'You have found an interest?'
'How perceptive of you.'
'I am a detective.'
She looked at him very steadily and for that moment there was honest and equal friendship between them, without barrier of words.
'What is it?' he said quietly.
'I am on the Board of Governors in the Royal Free Hospital.'
'I am delighted.' He knew her late husband had been an army surgeon. It was a position which would suit her experience and her natural abilities and inclinations admirably. He was genuinely pleased for her. 'How long?'
'Only a month, but already I feel I have been of some service.' Her face was quickened with excitement and her eyes brilliant. 'There is so much to be done.' She leaned forward across the table. 'I know a little about the new methods, Miss Nightingale's beliefs about air and cleanliness. It will take time, but we can accomplish what will seem like miracles if we work hard enough.' Unconsciously she was beating her forefinger on the tablecloth. 'There are so many progressive doctors, as well as the die-hards. And the difference it makes to have anesthetic! You have no idea how things have changed in the last ten or twelve years.'
She pushed the sugar scuttle away, her eyes intent upon his. 'Do you know they can make a person completely senseless, oblivious of pain, and then recover him without harm!' Again her finger beat on the cloth. 'That means all manner of surgery can be performed. There is no longer any need to tie a person down and hope to complete
