Had I been wrong about Jack Melton? I hadn't known about the will when I spoke to Inspector Herbert. And I couldn't go back to Scotland Yard.
Helen Calder must have read the uncertainty in my face.
'You surely don't believe that Victoria attacked Marjorie? Or me? No, she may be vicious and uncaring, but she's no murderer. She's my cousin.'
As if that prevented murder from happening in a family.
Helen Calder leaned back against her pillow. 'You have successfully diverted me from thinking about Michael. That was very kind of you, Bess.'
I said, 'Did you know that Victoria tried to persuade Meriwether not to marry Marjorie? He was furious with her. I thought she was just being a spoiler. But perhaps she had the will in mind.'
'I wouldn't be surprised. It was just the sort of thing she might do.'
The Harts had called Victoria evil, but I wondered if seeing all her schemes come to nothing, she must have been beside herself with fury. And perhaps helping to destroy Michael had been the last act of vengeance open to her, in addition to seeing her sister's name dragged through the scandal sheets.
'I'm tired now. But I'm so glad you came to see me, Bess.'
'I'm glad too,' I told her, meaning it. 'But remember, I'm a nurse, I know wounds. If you languish here, you'll never recover. Get up and dress and go out for lunch somewhere. It will do you the greatest good. You'll see.'
But she shook her head. 'I couldn't enjoy myself, knowing that Michael is counting the days down to his last. Perhaps-perhaps when it's over, I'll feel more like going out.'
There was nothing I could say that would change her mind. I held her hand for a moment, and then left.
My own mind was in turmoil. None of the questions I'd left for Simon had anything to do with Victoria, only with Jack Melton.
If Helen Calder believed she carried a burden of guilt, she had no idea of the depth and breadth of mine at this moment.
I found a cab and gave him the direction of Mrs. Hennessey's house, then sat back in the anonymous darkness and told myself over and over again that I wouldn't fail, that I wouldn't be too late.
CHAPTER TWENTY
To my surprise, when I reached Mrs. Hennessey's house and the cabbie had been paid, it was Simon Brandon who held the door for me to step out.
'Have you been to see Michael?' Those were the first words out of my mouth.
'I'm doing my best to arrange it. Have you had any dinner? You look distressed.'
Standing there on the street looking up at him, I burst into tears.
He held me for a while, letting me cry into his lapels. Then he said briskly, 'If you aren't starving, I am.' He led me to his motorcar and put me inside. Coming around to the driver's door, he went on, 'Where would you like to go?'
'Nowhere. I've been crying.'
'So you have.'
He drove through London, through the City, and came out on the far side of the Tower, down toward the river.
It was hardly what anyone would call a restaurant, just a few tables and a counter where during the day workingmen might sit and eat their lunch. Except for one man who looked half asleep at a table by the window, the place was empty. We walked in and Simon nodded to the aproned man who stuck his head out of what must have been the kitchen. Seeing who had come in, he nodded, then disappeared.
We took the table in the far back corner, and I expected to find it dotted with crumbs and spots of grease from the diners before us. But it was spotlessly clean, though worn, and the man reappeared from the kitchen with a cloth for it and our silverware. He brought Simon an ale, and asked what I'd have.
Simon answered for me. 'Tea,' he said.
The man disappeared again.
Intrigued, I said, 'He knows you?'
'I've come here from time to time. He was a cook in the regiment. This was what he dreamed about, a small place of his own where there were never more than twenty people to serve at any one time.'
I smiled in spite of myself. 'I can appreciate that.'
'He won't remember you. We'll leave it that way, shall we?'
Nodding, I said, 'What do they serve?'
'Fish. It comes in fresh. He never says from where, but I would guess Essex. There are enough tiny coves and waterways there for a fleet of fishing vessels to hide if they even smell a German ship or U-boat. People have to eat. There's precious little food as it is.'
'I thought all the channels were mined.'
'Those who saw to it were absentminded.'
We waited in silence until our plates were brought steaming on chargers and smelling heavenly of well- cooked fish, today's bread, and a surprising array of vegetables.
We began to eat, and I realized just how hungry I was.
Halfway through the meal, I said, 'Do you want to know-'
'Not here. Just eat your dinner and put it all out of your mind.'
I did as I was told, grateful actually for the respite.
When we'd finished and I'd drunk my tea, Simon got up to settle his account with the owner, and then we went out to the motorcar, driving back the way we'd come.
He found a place in a street above Trafalgar Square, and we left the motorcar there, walking down to the square and settling ourselves near the ugly lions. There was no one about, and even the traffic heading down The Mall was light.
'All right. I'm listening,' he said.
I began to talk, slowly at first, then with gathering assurance as he listened without interrupting. When I'd finished, he leaned back against the wall behind him, and considered me.
'You've hardly been in England three days, and already you've managed to confuse yourself and me.'
I laughed, as he'd intended. Then I said, 'What am I to do, Simon? Will any of this help Michael?'
'We need to take what we know to his barrister. Name of Forbes. Find out if the man will listen to us at all. He was in an almighty fury when Hart did what he did.'
'I should think he might have been. He must have felt betrayed. And people like that don't care to be ignored. It's losing face in a sense.'
'I'll try to get in to see Michael. If he'll see me. But I think he might. You should keep your fingers crossed.'
'Shall I try to see Mr. Forbes?'
He considered me. 'A pretty face might have better luck. But I think the evidence in both Victoria Garrison's case and in Jack Melton's as well has merit. On the surface they cast doubts, because they are as good as the evidence Herbert gave the Crown. Whether they would hold up if investigated is another matter.'
'Simon, there isn't time for a lengthy and thorough investigation!' My voice had risen, and a passing constable turned, then walked our way.
'Everything all right, then, Miss?' he asked.
I smiled as best I could. 'Sad news, that's all. Thank you, Constable.'
He nodded and walked off. Simon watched him go then turned back to me.
'I don't know what to tell you, Bess. You've done wonders, no one could have done more. If only we'd known before the trial-but there was no way to know.'
'What you're saying,' I retorted, 'is that the chances are slim to none. And Michael will hang. Well, I won't be satisfied with exonerating him after his death.'
'You have to face it. Your mother is worried about that. She wonders if you are-too fond of him.'
