The pictures on the walls were cool, romantic, after the style of the Pre-Raphaelites; women with enigmatic faces and lovely hair, knights in armor, and twined flowers. On the decorative tables by the wall there were pewter ornaments of considerable age.
It was ten minutes before the door opened and Lady Hamilton came in. She was of above average height, with interesting, intelligent features which in her youth had probably had a certain loveliness. Now she was in her middle forties, and time had taken the first bloom from her skin and replaced it with marks of character which to Pitt were far more appealing. Her dark hair was coiled in the hastiest of knots at the nape of her neck, and she wore a dressing robe of royal blue.
She made an immense effort to remain dignified. 'I understand you have come to tell me that my husband has been killed,' she said quietly.
'Yes, Lady Hamilton,' Pitt answered. 'I am extremely sorry. I apologize for distressing you with the details, but I
9
believe you would prefer to hear them from me, rather than from the newspapers or from other people.'
She paled so markedly he was afraid for a moment she might collapse, but she drew in her breath and let it out very slowly, managing to retain her composure.
'Perhaps you should sit down?' he suggested. He held out his hand, but she ignored it and made her way to the couch, indicating that he be seated as well. Her fists were clenched and shaking where she held them in her lap, to hide them from him, and perhaps from herself.
'Pray proceed,' she instructed him.
He felt her pain and was powerless to do anything but add to it.
'It appears that Sir Lockwood was walking home after a late sitting of the House of Commons,' he continued. 'When he reached the south end of Westminster Bridge he was attacked by someone with either a knife or a razor. He sustained only one injury, in the neck, but it was fatal. If it can be of any comfort to you, he will have felt only the briefest instant's pain. It was extremely rapid.'
'He was robbed?' She spoke only to maintain the show of composure she was fighting so hard to keep.
'No, it would appear not-unless he carried something we don't know of. He still had his money, watch and chain, and cufflinks. Of course, the thief may have been interrupted before he could take anything. But that does not seem likely.''
'Why-' Her voice broke; she swallowed. 'Why not?'
Pitt hesitated.
'Why not?' she repeated.
She would have to know; if he did not tell her, someone else would, even if she refused to read the newspapers. By tomorrow it would be all over London. He did not know whether to look at her or away, but to avoid her eyes seemed cowardly.
' 'He was propped up against a lamppost and tied to it by 10
his neck scarf. No one who was interrupted would have had time to do such a thing.''
She stared at him speechlessly.
He pressed on because he had no choice. 'I must ask you, ma'am, if Sir Lockwood had received any threats that you were aware of. Had he any rivals in office, or business that might have wished him harm? This may have been done by a lunatic, but it's possible that it was someone who knew him.'
'No!' The denial was instinctive, and Pitt had expected it. No one wished to think such an atrocity could be anything but random fate, an accident of mischance in time and place.
'Did he often walk home after a late sitting?'
She collected herself with difficulty. He could see from her eyes that her inner vision was on the bridge in the darkness, imagining the horrific act. 'Yes-yes, if the weather was pleasant. It takes only a few minutes. It is well lit- and-'
