“None at all. But if it wasn’t, then it might make all the difference in the world.”
“Must be, sir. Mightn’t ’a bin, just the one. But two, that’s the work of a madman, sir.” Le Grange’s smooth face shone with conviction.
“That’s Tellman’s opinion?”
“Yes sir.” Le Grange was aware of Pitt’s irritation, and for the first time it discomforted him. “Maybe Wee Georgie’s gone too far at last,” he suggested. “ ’E’s a proper nasty little creature. Mr. Tellman’s always said that one day ’e’d swing.”
“I hope so,” Pitt said with feeling. “But not for beheading Captain Winthrop. Wait till we got a prostitute with a shiv in the back.”
“Fat George could ’ave done it. ’E’s as strong as an ox.”
“He’s probably as heavy as one, but why would he behead two perfectly ordinary gentlemen walking through the park?”
“Maybe they weren’t ordinary?” le Grange offered. “Mr. Tellman says as some o’ these fancy gents ’as very funny tastes. ’E knew o’ one what liked ’is women ter—”
“And did they murder him?” Pitt interrupted.
“Well—no—they just charged ’im double.”
“Precisely. Murder is bad for business, le Grange, and whatever else Fat George is, he’s a businessman. Go and find out more about Aidan Arledge. I don’t suppose you’ve discovered where he was killed yet, have you?”
“Well—no sir, not yet.”
“Then get on with it!”
“Yes sir! Will that be all, sir?”
“Yes it will.”
Le Grange beat a hasty retreat, leaving Pitt wondering if he were capable of changing his loyalties from Tellman to him. How many of the other men felt the same? The sense of well-being with which Pitt had strode across the park had now totally withered away. He felt hemmed in. Farnsworth on one side was frightened for the reputation of the police, and no doubt feeling the pressure of it through the public demanding an arrest; and on the other, Tellman was growing more and more resentful at Pitt’s promotion, and his contempt for him was increasing by the day. He took no trouble to conceal it from the other men, in fact it seemed he enjoyed to take them along with him.
Whatever had made Pitt accept Micah Drummond’s offer? It was not the right job for him. He had not the nature nor the social position. He was not a diplomat and he was certainly not a gentleman.
He would go and see Mrs. Arledge himself. There must be a connection between the two men somewhere, unless it really was a random lunatic.
He was outside in Bow Street walking along the pavement when two ladies skirted around him, moving at least two yards to the left. Then he remembered he was not dressed as a superintendent in charge of Bow Street police station, and certainly not in a fit state to visit the widow of a gentleman.
He returned home a little after six, tired and dispirited, longing to sit down in the warmth of the kitchen, have a good meal, tell Charlotte what had happened, what he knew, and above all to share his fears and doubts about himself and the job. She would encourage him, tell him he was perfectly equal to it. She might not know, and her words would spring more from loyalty than any understanding of what was really involved, but nonetheless he would feel immeasurably better for it.
But when he neared the kitchen door there was no one there except Gracie.
“ ’Ell?, sir,” she said cheerfully, her bright little face lighting up with pleasure. She was very neatly dressed, her collar clean, her apron starched and immaculate, ribbons tied tightly behind her tiny waist. She looked freshly scrubbed and beaming with importance. “Yer supper’s ready, sir, an’ I can get yer a bowl of ’ot water right away, an’ another for yer feet if you like?”
“Thank you,” he accepted. “One will be enough.”
She looked him up and down dubiously. “What about a tub, sir? You bin in them rookery kind o’ places again, ’aven’t yer?”
“Yes.” He sat down on one of the hard chairs and without asking she bent in front of him and unlaced his boots. “Where’s Mrs. Pitt?” he asked.
“Oh, she’s still at the new ’ouse, sir. Like ter be there all evenin’, I shouldn’t wonder,” she replied, standing up and going to fetch a basin of steaming water. “There’s a terrible lot ter be done, sir, an’ she said as I was to make your supper—that was if you came ’ome for supper, o’ course. An’ I done some lamb stew for yer, sir, wi’ potatoes an’ onions an’ some ’erbs from the new garden.” Her eyes were bright with pride in it.
He swallowed his disappointment with difficulty. Charlotte had been away so often lately he was beginning to feel unreasonably resentful. And it was unreasonable, he knew that. She was working at the new house with builders, decorators, plumbers and so on, things he would have done himself had he the time, but none of those arguments stopped the feeling of having been let down.
“Thank you, Gracie,” he said somberly. “It sounds excellent. Where are the children?”
“Upstairs, sir. I told ’em not to bother yer till you’d ’ad yer supper.” She screwed up her face and regarded him narrowly. “Yer lookin’ a little peaked, sir. Shall I get yer summat ter eat before yer change yer clothes? I’m sure it don’t matter, not in the kitchen, like.”
He smiled in spite of himself. “Thank you,” he accepted. “That would be a good idea.”
She looked relieved. It was a big responsibility Charlotte had left her with. She was not a cook, just a maid-of- all-work who was day by day growing into a mixture of housemaid, parlormaid and kitchen maid, with a good deal of nursery maid as well. She was desperately eager to please him, and not a little in awe. She had been even prouder of his promotion than some of his family.
