'Hello.'
'I haven't seen you for a while. Come and sit down so that I can have a proper look at you.' She glanced nervously around the room then perched on the edge of an upright chair near the door. 'That's better,' he said, resuming his own seat. 'I was just talking to your mother about the way that you used to hold the horses for me at the forge.'
'Yes.'
'You enjoyed that, didn't you?' Emily nodded. 'I don't work as a blacksmith any more but I've still got my own horse and cart. If ever you want to come for a ride, you only have to ask. You can take the reins.'
'Thank you.'
'It's important to get out. You mustn't lock yourself away in your room like a hermit. We all miss Nathan terribly,' he went on, lowering his voice to a soothing whisper. 'When I take my wife to church on Sundays, the first prayer I say is for your father. Do you pray for him as well?'
'All the time.'
'But we haven't seen you in church for weeks. You mustn't be afraid of what other people may say,' he told her. 'You've just as much right as anyone to go to St Mary's. There are one or two narrow-minded busybodies who may turn up their noses when they see anyone from this family but you've nothing at all to be embarrassed about, Emily. Your father was innocent.'
'I know,' she said, 'that's what makes it so hard to bear.'
'You loved him dearly, didn't you?' said Newman. 'Nathan was so proud of you. He was always talking about his lovely daughter. That's how he thought of you, Emily – as his own child. And you looked on him as your real father, didn't you?'
'I tried.'
'You were a proper family, all four of you.'
She shifted on her seat. 'Can I go now, Mr Newman?'
'Am I upsetting you in some way?'
'No, no.'
'Because we both want the same thing, Emily, you know that, don't you? I'll strain every bone in my body to prove that your father did not commit that crime. That's why I got that petition together,' he said, 'and you saw how many people signed that.'
'You did so much for us, Mr Newman.'
'Then let me do a little more,' he offered, spreading his arms. 'Let me help you through this period of mourning. Share your grief, Emily. Talk to your mother about it. Come to church with us and show the town that you can bear this loss because you know in your heart that your father was not a killer. Stand up and be seen.'
'I can't, Mr Newman,' she said, shaking her head.
'Why not?'
'Don't ask me that.'
'But we're entitled to know. Your father was the best friend I ever had, Emily,' he said, soulfully, 'and I stood by him until the end. I'll not give up on him now. Nathan may be dead but he still needs us to speak up for him, to show everyone how hard we'll fight to protect his good name. You care, don't you?'
'Yes,' she said, tearfully. 'I care more than anyone.'
'Then why can't you open your heart to us?'
She stood up. 'Let me go,' she bleated, taking out a handkerchief.
'Wait,' he said, getting up to cross over to her. 'Just tell me one thing, Emily. Why are you pushing away the people who love you? Mourn for your father with the rest of us.'
'No, Mr Newman!'
'It's the right and proper way.'
'I'm sorry but I can't do it.'
'Why ever not?'
'You wouldn't understand.'
'Why not?' he pressed.
She looked him in the eyes. 'Because I feel too ashamed.'
CHAPTER NINE
After a hearty breakfast and a discussion as to how the investigation would proceed, Superintendent Edward Tallis was driven in a trap to Ashford Station to catch a train back to London. Both detectives were pleased to see him go but it was Victor Leeming who really savoured his departure. Slapping his thigh, he let out a controlled whoop of delight.
'He's gone at last!' he cried.
'He was only here for about twelve hours,' Colbeck pointed out.
'It seemed much longer somehow. If I have to spend a night away from my wife, I'd rather not do it under the same roof as Mr Tallis. It unsettled me, knowing that His Lordship was only a few doors away. I took ages to get off and I expect that you did as well.'
'No, I slept extremely well.'
'Well, I didn't. It's not the same without Estelle,' said Leeming. 'I missed her, Inspector.'
'And I'm sure that she missed you just as much, Victor. The sooner we solve these crimes, the sooner you can get back to her.'
Having bidden farewell to their superior, they were still under the portico outside the Saracen's Head. It was relatively early but the town was already busy. People were bustling around the streets, shops were getting ready to open and the pandemonium from the railway works showed that the first shift of the day had begun. Across the road from them, an ironmonger was going slowly through his morning routine of displaying his wares outside his shop. He heaved out a long tin bath.
'That's what I could do with,' said Leeming, covetously. 'A bath.'
'Take one back to your wife as a present.'
'I meant that I'd like to soak in warm water for half an hour.'
'I was only teasing you,' said Colbeck, smiling. 'There's no time for either of us to relax, I fear. You need to be on your way to Canterbury.'
'How will I find this Mr Perivale?'
'His chambers are in Watling Street. Get his address from there.'
'What if he doesn't live in the city?'
'Then go out to where he does live,' instructed Colbeck. 'The man could be unaware of the danger that he's in. But that's not the only reason you must speak to him, Victor. He was a key figure in the trial of Nathan Hawkshaw. I've several questions I'd like you to put to him,' he said, extracting a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handing it over. 'I've written them down for you. Peruse them carefully.'
'Wouldn't it be better if you put them to him in person?'
'Ideally, yes.'
'You were a barrister. You talk the same language as this man.'
'Unfortunately, I can't be in two places at once.'
'Where will you be, sir?'
'Here in Ashford, for the most part,' replied Colbeck. 'I want to make some inquiries at the station, then I need to have a longer talk with Winifred Hawkshaw and with Gregory Newman. To mount the sort of campaign that they did was a formidable challenge to anyone yet they brought if off somehow.'
'It failed all the same.'
'That's irrelevant. When I paid my first visit to Maidstone, I saw some of the leaflets calling for Hawkshaw's release, and Sergeant Lugg showed me the advertisements placed in the local newspapers. They were all well written and must have cost money to produce. Who penned that literature and how could they afford to have it
