Hyde Park Headsman

see it plainly, only the evidence made it no longer escapable.

The hansom stopped and he alighted, telling the driver to wait for him. Inside he found the long ward where Bailey was lying stiff, white-faced and motionless. He was dressed in a rough calico nightshirt and covered with a sheet and a gray blanket. By the side of his cot stood a young doctor, frowning and pursing his lips.

“How is he?” Pitt asked, dreading the answer.

The doctor looked at him wearily. “Who are you?”

“Superintendent Pitt, Bow Street. How is he?”

“Hard to say.” The doctor shook his head. “Hasn’t stirred since they brought him in, but he’s warmed up to a decent temperature at last. His breathing is near normal and his heart is beating quite strongly.”

“He’ll be all right?” It was more a hope than a belief.

“Can’t say. Possibly.”

“When might he be able to speak?”

The doctor shook his head, and looked up at Pitt at last. “I can’t say, Superintendent. Can’t even say for sure that he will. And even if he does, he may not remember anything. Could be in a very poor state of mind. You’ll have to be prepared for that. I would go on with your investigation without relying on him, if I were you.”

“I see. Do everything you can for him, won’t you? Don’t worry about the cost.”

“Of course.”

Pitt left feeling even more wretched and discouraged, and acutely guilty.

He arrived back at Bow Street to find Giles Farnsworth in his office, his face pale, his hands clenched by his sides.

“You let Carvell go again,” he said between his teeth. “Now he has as near as dammit murdered one of your own men.” He paced to the mantelpiece and turned. “I always feared this job was too big for you, but Drummond was adamant. Well, he was wrong. Worst misjudgment of his career. I’m sorry Pitt, but your incompetence is not acceptable.”

He crossed the floor again and swung back.

“You are dismissed. You will complete the background work on this case, then return to your previous rank. You’d better move to another station. I’ll think which one when I have time. Maybe somewhere on the outskirts.” And without waiting for Pitt to reply, he went to the door. He hesitated with his hand on the knob. “I’ve told Tellman to arrest Carvell again. They should have him by now. You can start to arrange the evidence ready for the trial. When you have finished that, you can take a few days off. Good day.” He went out, closing the door behind him, leaving Pitt alone, guilty and totally wretched.

11

CHARLOTTE WAS DEVASTATED when Pitt told her that he had been dismissed. Perhaps she should have realized more fully how real was the possibility, but her mind had been too filled with other things: the new house, and of course selling the old one, Jack’s candidacy, Caroline’s love affair, now her marriage. She had never really believed this would happen—it was so unjust!

Her heart sank for him, for his pain and humiliation, but she was furious for the unfairness of it. Then lastly she was afraid for herself and her children. What about the new house now? How would they afford it? And the old house was gone, they could not simply move back.

All these thoughts and emotions raged through her and she knew they must show in her face. She had never been good enough at concealing her feelings, but she did all she could to hide them, even as the blood drained from her cheeks and her stomach went sick and cold.

“We’ll manage,” was all she contrived to say, and her voice was rasping, her mouth was so dry.

Pitt looked at her, his own face pale, his eyes hurt and tired.

“Of course we will,” he said gently, although he had no idea yet how. The thought of going back to work as an inspector again, in some other station miles away, was too bitter to do more than hear and turn away from until the reality of it forced itself upon him and he had to come to terms with it. Perhaps he would be able to persuade Farnsworth at least to make it at Central London station, so he could work in the area he knew and not spend half his time going backwards and forwards on omnibuses. He would not be able to afford a hansom.

For some time they both sat in silence, close together. Words would not help. There was nothing comforting to say except the banalities they had clearly both thought of, and dismissed.

At last Charlotte moved a little and sat more upright. She had lit the parlor fire, not because it was cold but because the flicker of the flames was comforting, creating briefly a little island from the rest of the world.

“Did Carvell finally admit it?” she asked.

“No.” His mind was suddenly filled with the image of Carvell’s wretched face, white and frightened, as he was taken down to the cells, his eyes meeting Pitt’s in an abject plea. “No, he denied it passionately.”

Charlotte stared at him.

“You believe him, don’t you?” she said after a moment or two. “You still don’t really think he did it!”

He sat still for several moments before replying. His face was crumpled with confusion, but there was no wavering in his voice when at last he answered.

“No. No, I can’t believe he would willingly have hurt Aidan Arledge. And if he had killed him in a fit of blind passion and rage, I think he would be a broken man afterwards, and not even attempt to escape. In fact, I honestly believe if he had done it, he would accept, even welcome, punishment.”

“Then you’ve got to find out who did do it, Thomas! You can’t let him be hanged for it!” She knelt in front of him