'A coachman this morning told Mr. Thompson that he brought Mrs. Chapman to Middle Temple last Monday afternoon,' I said. 'Let her off in Middle Temple Lane. Which was mostly deserted, I imagine, with everyone at dinner.'
Gower nodded. 'Would have been, yes.'
'It was an excellent hour,' I said, 'in which to meet her.'
The lanky youth simply looked at me.
'That's the truth,' Thompson agreed. 'It was just dark. Everyone would be eating or diligently finishing his work. Or smoking cheroots,' he added, with a grin at Gower.
'What did you see?' I asked him.
Gower stared across the river into the mists slowly consuming the buildings on the far bank. His brows drew together, then he shook his head, his face open.
'Nothing. I'm sorry, gentlemen. I smoked, grew cold, and bolted back inside.'
'Hmm,' I said.
Gower shrugged again. His long arms stuck out of his robe to reveal the coat sleeves that Grenville had noticed.
'I find it interesting,' I said. 'You told us that you'd come to Middle Temple to apprentice because, you said, someone in your family needed to make money. Yet, Mr. Grenville identified your suit as being made by a fine tailor in Bond Street. He was much impressed. Very few men can afford a suit that would impress Lucius Grenville.'
Gower shrugged, looking pleased. 'I had a windfall. Had a flutter on the races and made a packet. Spent it all on fine living.'
I watched him, and so did Thompson. Sir Montague kept staring at the water.
'You would make a fine barrister, Mr. Gower,' I said. 'You have a smooth answer for every question. What if I ask you one point blank-did you meet Mrs. Chapman here last Monday afternoon? And ask her for money?'
Gower met my gaze easily, his blue eyes warm and friendly. 'Why do you ask, Captain?'
'Because I believe you did. And I believe that you killed her.'
Gower at last lost his smile. The freckles stood out on his face in dark patches. 'Why should I? I barely knew the woman.'
'Because Mrs. Chapman kept her share of the profits from The Glass House in her attic room, a sum that ought to have been substantial. Yet, when a man broke in after her death and stole her money box, he found it disappointingly empty. He assumed that she'd spent it all, but I do not think so. While I found a few trinkets and fripperies in her rooms, there were no jewels or anything very expensive-nothing a middle-class woman living on a barrister's income could not buy for herself, or have given to her as a gift. Mrs. Chapman wore no jewelry when she died, only a keepsake ring belonging to her lover. But The Glass House was one of the most popular houses in town-the wealthiest of gentlemen went there. She must have made quite a lot of money from it. So I wonder, where has all that money gone?'
'Perhaps this bloke that broke into her room stole it,' Gower said. 'Killed her too.'
I touched the collar of Gower's fine coat. 'I think, instead, that some of it went to a Bond Street tailor.'
'What did you blackmail her for?' Thompson asked.
Gower looked back and forth between us. 'You have no evidence that I did.'
'Life with Chapman was dull, you told us,' I said. 'I imagine the tedium in his rooms made you look for ways in which to entertain yourself. I am not certain how you discovered Mrs. Chapman's secrets, but you did. Did you threaten to tell her husband that she had a lover, or to tell him about The Glass House? Either would suffice. Chapman could have her arrested for adultery, or if he did not want that humiliation, he could at least restrict her movements and make certain she never saw Lord Barbury again. He also could have demanded the money she made from The Glass House, taken it from her, forced her to end what had become a lucrative business. In short, Chapman could make her life with him even more miserable than it already was.'
Gower didn't look worried. 'What was between Chapman and his wife has nothing to do with me.'
'Perhaps not at first. How did you find out about Mrs. Chapman's life, by the bye? From your university friends who might have known Lord Barbury? From research into such dull subjects as trusts for Chapman? Or, was it another reason? She was a pretty young woman. Perhaps you fancied her, and she snubbed you.'
'She had a lover, didn't she?' Gower said, belligerent. 'Yes, Mrs. Chapman was pretty, so I followed her about. I saw her with her lover one night, her dressed like a high-flyer, his arm around her waist, them billing and cooing. Wasn't that interesting? I thought. Poor old Chapman.'
'So you blackmailed her,' I said.
'Not right away. I followed her for nigh on a sixmonth, until I knew every single one of Mrs. Chapman's dirty little secrets.'
'Blackmailers always come to bad ends,' Thompson remarked. 'The law frowns on it, you know.'
'Why did you kill her?' I asked. 'If she was keeping you in fine suits?'
Gower looked stricken. 'I didn't. She only gave me money a few times. It's not like I bled her dry.'
'She came here to see you last Monday evening, just after dark,' I said. 'You met her in the Gardens-here- and she gave you another payment. Perhaps you quarreled, perhaps she threatened to tell Lord Barbury, perhaps she told you she'd already informed him of everything. Perhaps you panicked and killed her to keep her quiet.'
Gower shook his head. 'You're wrong. I never killed her. She was angry with me, right enough. She told me it was for the last time.'
'What did you do then? Did you strike her? Or perhaps you asked her for more than money, and killed her when she refused you?'
'She slapped me.' Gower's eyes sparkled in outrage. 'Acted like she was better than me, her an actress and a tart. So I slapped her back. Then Mrs. Chapman flew at me, ready to claw my eyes out. It was raining hard. She slipped and fell and came crashing down on the steps. She gasped once, and then she just lay there.'
He stared down at the steps, looked bewildered, as though he still saw her body crumpled in the rain.
'Why the devil didn't you run for help?' I demanded, holding onto my temper with effort.
'She was dead already. Besides, if I’d gone for help, I'd have had to explain what I was doing out on the Temple Stairs with Chapman's wife. I didn't want Chapman to sack me, dull as he is. I must become a barrister; I told you, my family needs the money. But no one had seen. So I rolled her off into the Thames. The rain took care of the blood. Simple as that.'
I walked down a few stairs, then turned and looked back. The dome of St. Paul's cathedral, ghostly in the rain and mists, rose above the high houses of the Temples behind the quivering Gower.
'She died here,' I said. 'While you stood and watched. Then you took the money and bought yourself a new suit.'
'What would you have done?' Gower asked. 'I didn't kill her. It was an accident.'
I moved back up the stairs, anger suffusing my every move. 'You did kill her. You brought her here because of your greed and your meanness. Peaches would not have been here to die, if not for you.'
'She was the one cuckolding her husband and running a bawdy house,' Gower said.
I made for him. Gower backed away in some alarm, and Thompson stepped between us. 'Now, Captain,' he said, eyes quiet. 'Let us not have another body in the Thames.'
The jovial admonition made Gower look still more worried, but it stopped me. 'Accident or no, you are responsible,' I said.
Sir Montague at last turned from watching the river, as though he'd done no more in the last twenty minutes than enjoy the view. 'On the other hand, Lord Barbury's death was no accident,' he said in his cheerful tones. 'Unless you accidentally put a gun to his head and shot him?'
Gower went dead white.
'I am a magistrate, Mr. Gower,' Sir Montague went on. 'Why don't you tell me what happened?'
Gower looked at him for a long while, then at Thompson, who stood quietly beside him, then at me. 'You must have proof to arrest me,' he said. 'Or a witness. You cannot prosecute on Captain Lacey's speculations. You must have evidence. I know the law.'
Sir Montague chuckled. 'That you do. But so do I, Mr. Gower. And I have a witness.'
Gower stared. 'I don't believe you.'
'There is a Bow Street Runner called Mr. Pomeroy,' Sir Montague said. 'He much enjoys his duties. He pounded Mount Street up and down for two days, questioning everyone he could get his hands on. And he found a
