asked for you, so I suppose he must think you can help somehow.”
Charlotte stood up and walked out slowly. Caroline touched her arm gently.
“Do be careful before you speak, my dear. We have had a great tragedy; don’t let your distress, or your concern for Maddock, provoke you into saying something you may afterwards regret because it has led to conclusions you did not foresee. Do not forget he is a policeman. He will remember everything you say, and try to see meanings beneath it.”
“Charlotte never thought before she spoke in her life,” Sarah said crossly. “She’ll lose her temper, and I can’t blame her. He is a most disgusting person. But the least one can do is behave like a lady, and say as little as possible.”
Emily was sitting at the piano.
“I think he admires Charlotte,” she said, touching the top note lightly with her finger.
“Emily, this is no time for levity!” Caroline said sharply.
“Can’t you ever think of anything but romance?” Sarah glared at her.
Emily smiled with a small uplift of the corners of her mouth.
“Do you think policemen are romantic, Sarah? I think Inspector Pitt is excessively plain, and of course he must be common, or he wouldn’t be a policeman. But he has the most beautiful voice, sort of surrounds you like warm treacle, and his diction and grammar are excellent. I suppose he is trying to better himself.”
“Emily, Lily is dead!” Caroline gritted her teeth.
“I know that, Mama. But he must be used to that kind of thing, so it won’t prevent him from admiring Charlotte.” She turned to her sister and regarded her objectively. “And Charlotte is very handsome. I dare say he doesn’t mind her tongue. He is probably used to indelicacy.”
Charlotte felt her face flaming. The thought of Inspector Pitt’s even entertaining such an idea about her was unbearable.
“Hold your tongue, Emily!” she fumed. “Inspector Pitt has no more chance of enjoying my attentions than- than you have of marrying George Ashworth. Which is just as well, because Ashworth is a gambler and a cad!” She pushed past Caroline and into the hall.
Pitt was in the smaller, rear sitting room.
“Good morning, Miss Ellison,” he smiled widely; it would have been charming in anyone else.
“Good morning, Mr. Pitt,” she said coldly. “I cannot think why you should have sent for me again, but since you have, what is it you want?”
She stared at him, trying to make him feel awkward, and instead thought for an appalling moment that she saw in his eyes the admiration Emily had spoken of. It was intolerable.
“Don’t stand there staring like a fool!” she snapped. “What do you want?”
His smile vanished.
“You seem very disturbed, Miss Ellison. Has something further happened to distress you? An event, a suspicion, something you remembered?” His light, intelligent eyes were on her face, waiting.
“You appear to suspect our butler,” she replied icily. “Which is naturally distressing to me, both because you are blaming someone in my home, and no doubt you will arrest him and put him in prison, and because, since I’m perfectly sure he didn’t do it, whoever did is still out in the streets. I would have thought that such a situation would be enough to distress any person of the slightest sensibility.”
“You leap to conclusions with the greatest of mental athleticism, Miss Ellison,” he smiled. “To begin with, we frequently arrest people, but we take them to court; we do not put them in prison. You might feel sure he is not guilty, and I am inclined to agree with you, but neither you nor I has the right to dismiss anyone from consideration until something is proved or disproved regarding their involvement in the affair. And to conclude, you are wrong in assuming that because I am still looking at Maddock, I have ceased to look elsewhere.”
“I do not wish for a lecture on police procedure, Mr. Pitt.” She could see his point, even that he was right, and it did nothing to help her temper.
“I thought it might be reassuring.”
“What is it you want, Mr. Pitt?”
“The night that Lily was killed, when was the last time you saw Maddock before he went to look for her?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“What did you do that evening?”
“I read. What can that possibly have to do with it?”
“Oh?” His eyebrows rose with interest. He smiled. “What did you read?”
She could feel herself colour with annoyance because her father would have disapproved of her books as something that was not becoming for a lady to wish to know about.
“That is not your concern, Mr. Pitt.”
Her answer seemed to amuse him. It suddenly occurred to her that he might have thought it was a romance, or old love letters.
“I was reading a book on warfare in the Crimea,” she said angrily.
His eyes widened in surprise.
“An unusual interest for a lady.”
“Possibly. What has it to do with Lily, which I’m told is your job here?”
“I take it you chose that opportunity because your father does not approve of your interest in such bloody and unfeminine subjects?”
“That is none of your concern either.”
“So you read alone; you did not call in Maddock or Dora to fetch you any refreshment, or alter the gas, or lock the doors?”
“I didn’t wish for any refreshment, and I’m quite capable of turning the gas up or down myself, or locking the doors.”
“Then you didn’t see Maddock at all?”
At last she realized what he was seeking. She was annoyed with herself for not having seen it before.
“No.”
“So he could have been out any time during the evening, as far as you know?”
“Mrs. Dunphy said he spoke to her. He only went out when Lily was late home, and-and he became worried.”
“So he says. But Mrs. Dunphy was alone in the kitchen. He could actually have gone out earlier.”
“No, he couldn’t. If I had called for anything I should have noticed his absence.”
“But you were reading a book your father did not approve of.” He was looking at her closely. His eyes were frank, as if there were no wall between them.
“He didn’t know that!” But even as she said it the sickening thought came that Maddock probably had known it. She had taken the book from her father’s study. Maddock knew the books well enough to spot which one was missing, and he knew her. She turned to face Pitt.
He merely smiled. “However,” he went on, dismissing the book with a wave of his hand. Really, he was a most untidy creature, so different from Dominic. He looked like a wading bird flapping its wings. “I can think of no reason why he should harbour any feelings against Miss Abernathy.” His voice lifted. “Was Miss Abernathy a friend of yours?”
“Not especially.”
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “From what I have been told, she would hardly have been your choice of company. A somewhat flighty girl, much given to laughter and rather frivolous pursuits, poor child.”
Charlotte looked at him. He was quite grave. Was he not sufficiently used to death in his job that it no longer moved him?
“She was not an immoral girl,” she said quietly, “just very young, and still a little foolish.”
“Indeed.” He gave a tight little grimace. “And not in the least likely to have had a liaison with someone else’s butler. I imagine her sights were set a good deal higher. She could hardly have remained in the kind of society she sought were she in any way engaged with a servant, even a superior one!”
“Are you being sarcastic, Mr. Pitt?”
“Quite literal, Miss Ellison. I do not always observe the rules of society, but I am quite aware of what they
