once.
'Miss Crawford! How good to see you. What brings you to Maplethorpe?'
'I was passing through, on my way to London.'
'I'm leaving for London myself in half an hour. Have dinner with me tonight.'
'The Marlborough?'
'Yes, indeed. Shall I come for you?'
I told him where to find me and that Mrs. Hennessey was the guardian at the gate. 'Let her see that you are the most responsible officer in the entire Army, and she'll come upstairs for me.'
He laughed. 'Seven, then?'
'Seven.'
And I was back in the motorcar before the baker had finished his delivery at the tea shop next to the bookstore.
'You've thrown over the dashing young lieutenant for a captain, I see.'
'He was at the Meltons' house party. He knew Marjorie Evanson and her husband.'
'Which explains why you leapt out of a moving motorcar to chase that man into a bookstore and beg him to take you to dinner tonight.'
'I did no such thing,' I answered indignantly.
Simon laughed. 'That's how your mother would see it.'
That was true. I don't know why I had rushed after Captain Truscott, but it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was a bit of luck to find him again at all.
We reached London and Simon set me down at the flat, where I went up to look for anyone who might be there. But I had it to myself, and I decided that my first order of business was to speak to Inspector Herbert.
He was not at the Yard, having been called away to deal with a problem in Bermondsey. The elderly constable who escorted me to his office and back down the stairs again took pity on me when he saw my disappointment. 'He's got a meeting tomorrow at eight o'clock with the Chief Superintendent. If you are here at nine o'clock, he'll make time for you.'
I thanked him and left. I'd expected I'd be staying over in London, anyway. The problem would be persuading Simon to stay too.
By the time I reached the flat again, having stopped along the way to find items from my mother's list, I discovered Simon waiting for me, leaning against the wing of his motorcar, arms crossed.
I gave him my packages and he stowed them in the motorcar. Three more he carried inside for me, where Mrs. Hennessey gave him permission to take them up the stairs to the flat, while she watched with an eagle eye. 'He's a very attractive man. Friend of the family or not,' she murmured to me. 'And there are standards to maintain. The families of my young ladies expect it.'
I suppressed a smile. If Mrs. Hennessey didn't trust Simon, the most trustworthy of men, I wondered what she would make of Lieutenant Hart. Temptation incarnate.
But dear soul that she was, she did her best to safeguard those of us who lived in the flats above, and we all loved her.
When Simon came down again, we went to his motorcar and he took me to lunch. I'd wanted to ask him what he'd learned, but he was in a dark mood and I knew better than to push. We talked about other things-where I'd gone shopping, what I'd heard from my flatmates, news of mutual friends, everything under the sun but what was uppermost in my mind.
And then, at the end of our meal, as the waiter set our trifle in front of us and walked away, he finally said, 'I've found the name of the man in that photograph. Are you sure you want to hear what I've learned? Or shall I send it along to this Inspector Herbert of yours, and let it be finished?'
'Is it someone you know-or my parents know?' I asked, suddenly worried.
'No.'
'Then tell me, please.'
'He's Jack Melton's brother.'
I sat there, stunned.
I hadn't expected the man to be someone I knew. But then I'd never actually met him, I reminded myself. Only his brother. Serena's husband. Still, it was too close to home for comfort.
'What is his name?' I couldn't remember ever hearing it.
'Raymond Melton. He's a captain in the Wiltshire Fusiliers. And in France at the moment.'
I took a deep breath.
'It can't be. No, I don't think he would dare-Serena's brother's wife?'
'You know nothing about the man. What sort he may be.' Simon's voice was harsh. 'Go to Scotland Yard, tell Herbert what you've learned, and leave it to him.'
'But it doesn't make sense,' I said, dabbing at the trifle with my spoon, not wanting to meet Simon's eyes.
'That's because you don't want to believe it.'
'It will break Serena Melton's heart. She'll never forgive him. And she will blame Jack as well.'
'Why?'
'Because her brother died of grief. She didn't care all that much for Marjorie, even when they married. But she loved her brother with all her heart.'
I had wanted to find this man, to keep the inquiry on track. And as is common with most meddling, what I'd learned would have repercussions. Once Raymond Melton was questioned, Serena would give Jack no peace until he told her all he knew.
Still, so much fit together. Marjorie would have met Raymond Melton. And if she had run into him in London one day, she would have had no qualms about dining with him. Even Mrs. Hennessey, a stickler for propriety, wouldn't have batted an eye.
'Why was he in England five or six months ago? It couldn't have been an ordinary leave. He must have been here longer than most.'
'He was seconded to General Haig's staff, and he was coordinating supply shipments. They were being held up, finding transport was a problem with the German submarines taking such a toll. London was his base. From there he could visit Manchester or Birmingham or Liverpool with relative ease. He also had a staff motorcar at his disposal.'
'I can't imagine what she could possibly have seen in him,' I said crossly. 'He seemed so-distant. Michael Hart is so much better looking, if it was a fling she was after. And he loved her, he wouldn't have walked away from her and left her there all alone.'
'Raymond Melton didn't kill her. He couldn't have. I asked. He caught the train and reached France precisely when he should have.'
But trains were slow. He could have borrowed a motorcar, using the excuse that he'd missed his connection.
Simon was saying something that I didn't catch.
'Sorry?'
'He's married, Bess. Raymond Melton is married. They have two children.'
I recalled the boy and girl I'd seen at Melton Hall the day Mary and I arrived. Raymond Melton's children? Very likely, though she'd referred to them as cousins.
'Oh, dear God. What am I to do, Simon? It will ruin their lives.'
'This is why I didn't want to tell you.' He signaled the waiter. 'I'll take you back to the flat and then speak to Inspector Herbert myself. He'll know how much will have to come out during the inquiry, and how much he can keep from the newspapers for the time being. Leave it to him. Then I'll drive you back to Somerset.'
He didn't say, bless him, that I should have handed Gareth Dalton's photograph to Scotland Yard. Then I'd have been ignorant of the connections. Like the ostrich with her head in the sand.
'I have a dinner engagement with Captain Truscott,' I answered distractedly. 'It would be unkind to break it. Besides, Inspector Herbert is away.'
'Then I'll wait and drive you home tomorrow.'
Rousing myself, I said, 'No, that's not the right way to handle this, Simon. I made a promise to Inspector
