any other possibility so far raised.' 'He wasn't a reformer,'' he replied. 'Except in the most moderate terms. He was a very sane man! I wouldn't have had him as my P.P.S. if I didn't trust his judgments.'
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'And his reputation in his personal life?'
'Impeccable.'' The briefest of smiles flickered across the Home Secretary's face. 'And that is not a diplomatic answer. He was extremely fond of his wife, a very fine woman, and he was not a man to seek . . . diversions. He had little art of flattery or trivial conversation, and I never observed him to admire another woman.'
Having met Amethyst Hamilton, Pitt did not find it hard to believe. Charles Verdun had said the same.
'The more I hear of him, the less does he sound like a man to have inspired a personal hatred violent enough to incite murder.' Pitt had a faint satisfaction in seeing the Home Secretary's appreciation of the turn of his argument, little as he liked it.
'Then you had better pursue whatever evidence you have and look into all the agitators and political groups we know of,' he said grimly. 'Keep me informed.'
'Yes sir. Thank you.'
'Good day to you.' He was dismissed.
The House of Commons was still sitting; it was too early to attempt to retrace Hamilton's steps the night before. Pitt was cold and hungry and knew little more than when he had left his home that afternoon after a snatched few hours of sleep. He would go back to Bow Street and have a sandwich and a mug of tea and see if there was any news from the constables out pursuing witnesses.
But when he reached the station the duty sergeant told him that Sir Garnet Royce, M.P., had called to see him.
'Bring him to my office,' Pitt replied. He doubted it would be a helpful visit, but he owed the man the courtesy of seeing him. He pushed some papers off the second chair to make room for Royce to sit down if he wished and went behind his desk, glancing to see if there were any messages or new reports. There was nothing except the pile of house transactions from Verdun, with a note from one of the offi-
45
cers specializing in fraud, saying that as far as he could see they were exactly what they appeared to be; there was nothing to be deduced from them except that the firm conducted fairly efficient dealings in domestic property in several agreeable suburbs.
There was a knock on the door, and a constable showed in Garnet Royce. He was smartly dressed in a velvet-collared coat and carried a silk hat, which he put on the table. He was an imposing figure in this very ordinary gaslit office.
'Good evening, sir,' Pitt said curiously.
'Evening, Inspector.' He declined the chair. He was still holding a silver-headed cane, and he turned it restlessly in his strong hands as he spoke. 'I see the newspapers have made headlines of poor Lockwood. Suppose it was to be expected. Distressing for the family. Makes it hard to manage affairs with any dignity; lot of idle people hanging around like ghouls, people one barely knows trying to scrape an acquaintance. Disgusting! Brings out the best and the worst in people. You'll understand my distress for my sister.'
'Of course, sir.' Pitt meant it.
Royce leaned forward a little. 'If it was some random madman, as seems much the likeliest thing, what are your chances of apprehending him, Inspector? Answer me hon- I estly, man to man.'
Pitt looked at his face: the power in the sweep of nose and cheek, the wide mouth and sloping brow. It was not a sensitive face, but there was strength and intelligence in it. |
'With luck, sir, quite fair; without a witness of any sort, I and if the man doesn't attack anyone else, not great. But then P if he is a madman, he will continue to behave in a way to draw attention to himself, and we will find him.'' k
'Yes. Yes of course.' Sir Garnet's hands closed on the * cane. 'I suppose you have no ideas as yet?'
'No sir. We're working through the obvious possibilities: business rivalry, political enemies.'
' 'Lockwood was hardly important enough to earn political 46
