did not refuse to answer.' 'It was my painting, Mr. Pitt. It can have nothing to do with his death.'
'I see. Thank you.' So she had recently acquired an amount of money. He would have to investigate it discreetly and discover how much.
The front door opened and James Carfax came in on a gust of spring wind and sunlight. The footman came forward and took his hat, coat, and umbrella, and James strode across the hall, stopping as the movement at the top of the stairs caught his eye, his face darkening with irritation and then, as he recognized Pitt, anger.
'What in hell are you doing here?' he demanded. 'For God's sake, man, my wife's just lost her father! Get out on the streets and look for whatever lunatic's responsible. Don't waste your tune here harassing us!'
' 'James-'' Helen started down the stairs, her hand white, on the bannister. Pitt waited well behind because he could hardly see her black skirts on the gaslit stair and feared lest he might tread on them. 'James, he came back to see if he could find a threatening letter I told him Father had received.'
' 'We'll look for it!'' James was not to be so easily soothed. 'If we find it we'll inform you. Now good day to you, sir- the footman will show you out.'
Pitt ignored him and turned to Helen. 'With your permission, ma'am, I would like to speak to the footmen and coachmen.'
'Whatever for?' Clearly James still considered his presence a trespass.
'Since Mr. Etheridge was attacked in the street, sir, it is 93
possible he was followed and watched some time beforehand,' Pitt replied levelly. 'On recollection one of them may bring something helpful to mind.'
Anger stained James's cheeks with color; he should have seen that point himself. In many ways he was younger than the thirty or so years Pitt judged him to be. His sophistication was a thin skin over his emotions, over the rawness of someone unproved in his own eyes. Perhaps his father-in-law's complete control of the household had oppressed him more than he could admit to himself.
Helen put her hand on her husband's arm, her fingers resting very lightly, as if she were half afraid he might brush her off and she wanted to be able to pretend not to have noticed.
'James, we have to help all we can. I know they may never catch this madman, or anarchist, whoever it is, but-'
'That hardly needs to be said, Helen!' He looked at Pitt; they were much of a height. 'Question the outside staff, if you must-and then leave us alone. Let my wife mourn in private, and with some decency.' He did not put his hand over hers, as Pitt would have done in his place. Instead he moved away from her hand, and then put his arm round her shoulders, holding her by his side for a moment. Pitt saw Helen's face relax and a soft pleasure relax her features. To Pitt it was a colder gesture than the touching of hands would have been, a masked thing, kept apart by layers of cloth. But one does not know what happens in the relationships of others. Sometimes what seems close hides voids of loneliness whose pain outsiders can never conceive: others who sound to be remote, pursuing their own paths without regard, actually understand each other and silences exist because there is no need for speech, as quarrels are the strange coverings of enfolding warmth and intense loyalties. Perhaps James and Helen Carfax's love was not as one-sided as he had imagined, not so full of pain for her, nor so cramping and unwelcome to him.
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He excused himself and went through the green baize door to the servants' quarters, explaining to the butler who he was, and that he had Mr. Carfax's permission to speak to them. He was met with cool suspicion.
'Mrs. Carfax told me her father had received a threatening letter,' he added. 'She naturally wished me to pursue it, to discover anything I can.'
The watchfulness relaxed. The thought of James Carfax giving or withholding permission in the household was obviously so unfamiliar to them it had not registered. The mention of Helen, however, was different.
''If we knew anything we'd have told you,'' the butler said grimly. 'But if you want to ask anyone, then of course I'll see that they're brought, and that they answer you as best they can.'
'Thank you.' Pitt had thought of several questions, not that he expected helpful answers to any of them, but it gave him an opportunity to make a better judgment of the household. The cook offered him a cup of tea, for which he was grateful, and during the
