Victor raised his eyes and stared at him.
Pitt waited.
“Yes,” Victor said at length. “She was singing a little love song, quite softly, just a sad little thing about losing someone. He dismissed her without even listening to her explanation or apology.” His face was even whiter as he spoke and his lips were bloodless. “She cannot have been more than sixteen.” His whole body was tight, and he sat hunched, only his hands still gentle on the cello.
“Mrs. Radley heard it too,” Pitt said, not as any part of his plan, but spontaneously, from pity. “She offered the girl a position. She won’t be out on the street.”
Slowly Victor turned to gaze at him, his eyes softened, very bright blue, and the anger drained out of him.
“Did she?”
“Yes. She is my sister-in-law, and I know it is true.”
“And the man is dead,” Victor added. “So that’s all right.”
“Was that all you wanted to ask?” Bart said, stepping forward. “I saw nothing, and to the best of my knowledge, neither did my sister.”
“Oh, almost,” Pitt replied, looking not at him but at Mina. “The other matter was concerning Mr. Arledge.” He altered the tone of his voice to be deliberately harsher. “You told me before, Mrs. Winthrop, that your acquaintance with him was very slight, only a matter of a single kindness on one occasion when you were distressed over the death of a pet.”
She swallowed and hesitated. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I do not believe you.”
“We have told you what happened, Superintendent,” Bart said grimly. “Whether you accept it or not, I am afraid that is all there is. You have the Headsman. There is no purpose whatever in your persisting in a matter which is peripheral at best.”
Pitt ignored him.
“I think you knew him considerably better than that,” he said to Mina. “And I do not believe the matter that distressed you was the death of a pet.”
She looked pale, and distinctly uncomfortable.
“My brother has already told you what happened, Superintendent. I have nothing to add to that.”
“I know Mr. Mitchell told me, ma’am. What I wonder is why you did not tell me yourself! Is it that you are not quite so quick with a lie? Or perhaps you did not think of one in time?”
“Sir, you are being gratuitously offensive.” Bart moved closer to Pitt, as if he would offer him physical violence. His voice was low and dangerous. “I must ask you to leave this house. You are no longer welcome here.”
“Whether I am welcome or not is a matter of complete indifference,” Pitt answered, still facing, not Bart, but Mina. “Mrs. Winthrop, if I were to ask your servants, would they bear out your story of a domestic pet’s death?”
Mina looked very white and her hands were shaking. She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words. Her lips were dry.
“Mrs. Winthrop,” he said grimly, hating the necessity for this. “We know that your husband beat you—”
Her head jerked up, her face white with horror. “Oh no, no!” she said involuntarily. “It was … accidental … he … it was my own fault. If I were less clumsy, less stupid … I provoked him by …” She trailed off, staring at Bart.
Victor looked at Mina, his eyes wide and hard, waiting.
“It is not your fault!” Bart said between his teeth. “I don’t care a damn how stupid or persistent or argumentative you were! Nothing justifies—”
“Bart!” Her voice rose close to a shriek, her hands flying to her mouth. “You’re wrong! You’re wrong! It was nothing! He never intended to hurt me! You misunderstand all of it. Oakley wasn’t … cruel. It was the whiskey. He just …”
Victor looked at Mina’s terror, and at Bart, white-faced and torn with indecision.
“Didn’t it hurt?” he asked very gently.
“No, no Victor dear, it was all over very quickly,” she assured him. “Bart is just a little”—she hesitated —“protective of me.”
“That’s not true!” Victor’s voice was thick, almost choking. “It hurts—it frightens! It’s in your face! You were terrified of him. And he made you feel ashamed all the time, and worthless …”
“No! No, that’s not true. He didn’t mean it. And I am all right, I promise you!”
“Because the swine is dead!” Bart spat. He was about to add something more, but he got no further. Mina burst into tears, her shoulders hunched over as dry sobs racked her and she sank onto the sofa. Bart strode forward, almost knocking Victor out of the way, and took Pitt roughly by the arm, propelling him towards the door. Victor remained immobile.
In the hallway Pitt made no protest, and a few moments later, feeling the bruises of Bait’s fingers on his arm a trifle tenderly, he walked along the footpath towards the main thoroughfare. It was a clear evening, and still just light. He was not expecting anything to happen for some time.
He spent a tense fifteen minutes taking a glass of cider in a public house, then continued his way as the cloud cover grew heavier and the daylight dimmed. It was some time before he was sure he was being followed. At first it was only a sensation, a consciousness of a sound which echoed his footsteps, stopping when he did, resuming when he did.
