it would be possible for someone who had only a slight acquaintance, and in the dark. That would mean that Etheridge was the intended victim, and Hamilton a mistake; one would hardly make the mistake second.'
'Tell me 'all you know about Etheridge.' Vespasia sat back and folded her hands in her lap, her eyes on his face.
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For several seconds he sat in silence, ordering his thoughts, during which time the tea and sandwiches arrived.
' 'His career has been solid but unspectacular,'' he began at last. 'He has property in two or three counties, as well as in London, and is very well provided for indeed, but it is old money, not new. He did not make much of it himself.'
'Politics?' she interrupted.
His mouth turned down at the corners. 'That is what is difficult to understand. He didn't do anything controversial, tended to go with the party line on everything I know of. He is for reform, but only at the speed his peers approve. He's hardly a radical or an innovator, nor, on the other hand, a die-hard.'
'You are saying he went whichever way the prevailing wind blew,' Vespasia said with some contempt.
' 'I don't know that I would put it as cruelly as that. But he was very much in the mainstream. If he had any convictions, they were the same as most of his colleagues. He was against Irish Home Rule, but only on a vote; he never spoke about it in the House, so he was hardly a target for the Fenians.'
'What about office?' she said hopefully. 'He must have trodden on somebody's toes on the way up.'
'My dear Vespasia, he didn't go far enough up to do anyone out of anything of importance-certainly nothing he'd get his throat cut for!''
' 'Well did he ravish someone's daughter, or seduce someone's wife? For heaven's sake, Somerset, somebody killed him!'
'Yes I know.' He looked down at his hands, then up again into her eyes. 'Don't you think it may be either a lunatic simply run amok, or else your friend's niece, as you fear?'
'I think it is probable, but not certain. And as long as there is any doubt one way or the other, I shall continue to pursue it. Perhaps the man had a lover, of either sex? Or he may have gambled; maybe someone owed him more than
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they could afford to pay, or perhaps it was Etheridge himself who was owing. He may have gained some knowledge, quite by chance, and he was murdered to silence him.'
Carlisle frowned. 'Knowledge of what?'
'I don't know! For heaven's sake, man, you have been in the world long enough! Scandal, corruption, treason-there are more than enough possibilities.'
'You know it always amazes me how a woman of your immaculate breeding and impeccable life could have such an encyclopedic knowledge of the sins and perversions of mankind. You look as if you've never seen a kitchen, much less a bawdy house.'
'That is how I intend to look,' she replied. 'A woman's appearance is her fortune, and what she seems to be will be the measure of what other people assume she is. If you had a trifle more practical sense you would know that. At times I think you are an idealist.''
'At times I probably am,' he agreed. 'But I will scrape around and see what I can learn about Etheridge for you, although I doubt it will be of much help.''
So did Vespasia, but she would not give up hope.
'Thank you. Knowledge will be useful, whatever it is. Even if it merely allows us to eliminate certain possibilities.''
He smiled at her, and there was some tenderness as well as respect in his eyes. She felt faintly embarrassed, which was absurd; Vespasia was above embarrassment. But she was startled to find how much his affection pleased her. She took another sandwich-they were salmon and mayonnaise-and gave one as well to the cat, and
