you caught her-and why she did it.' And she went to the sink, washed her hands, and began again to pummel the bread dough, sprinkling more flour on the board.
Pitt filled the kettle and put it on the stove as he was bidden, then began to recount the story of Royce's offer and how they had carried it out. Of course she already knew about the abortive attempts with Micah Drummond.
'So it wasn't blind,'' she said when he finished.' 'I mean, she wasn't after members of Parliament in general. She knew Royce-you said she called out his name.'
Pitt remembered the blaze of hatred on the woman's voice, the triumph in the moment she recognized him and knew beyond doubt it was he. 'I've got you at last,' she had said, and careless of the cab looming behind her, or Pitt leaping from it, she had lifted and swung the razor to kill. She was insane, a creature beyond the reach of reason, a destroyer- and yet there had been something very human in that hatred.
Charlotte's voice cut into his thoughts.
'Do you think she was after Royce all the time, and mistook the others for him? They all lived on the south side of the river, they all walked home, as it was not far, and they all had Mr or gray hair.''
'They were all Parliamentary Private Secretaries to the Home Secretary at some part in their careers. Except perhaps Royce himself-I don't know about him,' he answered slowly. ' 'I wonder what he was doing seventeen years ago.''
She split the dough and put it into three tins and left them to rise. 'You do think so! Why? Why did she hate Royce so much? Because he put her into Bedlam?'
'Perhaps.' The faint dissatisfaction at the back of his mind was stronger, more like a prickle. It was Garnet Royce
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she had attacked, not Jasper, the doctor. Was that simply because he was the elder brother, the stronger, the one in whose house she had served? But what had turned melancholia over the death of her mistress into a homicidal mania such as he had seen on Westminster Bridge?
He finished his tea and stood up. 'You go and tell Aunt Vespasia. I think I shall go back and talk to Drummond again.''
' 'About Elsie Draper?''
'Yes; yes I think so.'
All the way back to Bow Street he saw the newsboys carrying .placards for extra editions. Headlines screamed westminster CUTTHROAT CAUGHT! PARLIAMENT SAFE AGAIN! MANIAC SHOT DEAD ON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE! He bought a
paper just before he went into the police station. Under the big black leader was an article on how the threat of anarchy had receded and law had prevailed once more, thanks to the skill and dedication of the Metropolitan Police and the daring of an unknown member of Parliament. The whole of the nation's capital rejoiced in the return of order and safety to the streets.
Micah Drummond was startled to see Pitt back so soon, and on a spring day when he might have found gardening such a pleasure.
'What is it, Pitt?' There was a shadow of alarm in his face.
Pitt closed the door behind him. 'First of all, sir,' he began, 'I thank you for the promotion, but I would rather remain at my present rank, where I can go out on investigations myself, rather than supervise other men to do it. I think that is where my skill lies, and it is what I want to do.'
Drummond smiled. There was a certain ruefulness in his eyes, and a relief. Either he had been expecting something less pleasant, or else in part at least he understood.
' 'I am not surprised,'' he said candidly. ' 'And not entirely 278
sorry. You would have made a good senior officer, but we should have lost a lot by taking you away from the streets. Secondhand judgment is never the same. I admire you for the choice; it is not easy to decline money, or status.'
Pitt found himself blushing. The admiration of a man he both liked and respected was a precious thing. He
