him after all? Was there any way whatever of proving it?
Perhaps Matthew would know? Apothecary’s papers frequently had their names on them. It was both a safeguard and a means of advertising. He retraced his steps and called a cab to take him to Matthew’s apartments.
“What is it?” Matthew asked quickly. He was sitting up at his desk in the small room which served him as dining room and study. He was wearing a dressing robe, and still looked very pale. There were shadows around his eyes as if latent bruises were at last beginning to show.
“You look ill,” Pitt said anxiously. “Should you be up?”
“I have nothing worse than a headache,” Matthew dismissed it quickly. “What is it? What have you found?”
Pitt sat on one of the other chairs. “I’ve been to see several people. It seems all of Sir Arthur’s irrational behavior is either hearsay or based on the fact he upset people’s prejudices and desires….”
“I told you!” Matthew said triumphantly, light and eagerness in his face for the first time since he had come to Pitt’s house with the news of Sir Arthur’s death. “He wasn’t the least confused or senile. He knew only too well what he was saying. What else? What about the brandy, and the laudanum? Have you proved that wrong yet?” He smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m expecting miracles. You’ve done brilliantly, Thomas. I am grateful.”
“The brandy is hearsay too. The steward only served him one glass; the rest were ordered by other people on his behalf … perhaps.”
Matthew frowned. “Perhaps? What do you mean?”
Pitt recited what Guyler had told him.
“I see,” Matthew said quietly, leaning back. “God, isn’t it frightening. The Inner Circle is all over the place. But surely not everyone you’ve spoken to can be members, can they? Or can they?” His face looked pale again at the thought.
“I don’t know,” Pitt confessed. “I presume members can be summoned if they are needed. And this was something of an emergency for them. After all, Sir Arthur was breaking the covenant of secrecy and accusing them of conspiracy to commit fraud, and in some senses even treason.”
Matthew sat silent, deep in thought.
“Matthew …”
He looked up.
“I went to see Dr. Murray as well. He says he recommended Sir Arthur to get the laudanum he prescribed at the usual apothecary in Jermyn Street, but Porteous is quite certain that Sir Arthur did not go to him. Have you any idea where else he might have got it?”
“Does it matter? Do you think it was wrong dosages or something? An apothecary who was the executioner of the Circle?” His face was pinched with revulsion. “What an appalling thought … but it makes excellent sense.”
“Or the doctor himself,” Pitt added. “Do you know?”
“No. But if we could find one of the papers it would probably tell us.” He stood up. “There may be some left among his effects. I’ll look. Come, we’ll both go.”
Pitt rose. “He only had them two or three days. It was April twenty-seventh he went to see Murray for the consultation.”
Matthew stood and turned to face Pitt.
“The twenty-seventh. Are you sure?”
“Yes. Why?”
“He said nothing about it to me. He can’t have got them that day, because we went to Brighton in the afternoon.”
“What time?”
“To Brighton? About half past two. Why?”
“And what time did you get back?”
“We didn’t. We dined with friends and came back the following morning.”
“Murray said that was the day he saw Sir Arthur-at four-forty in the afternoon. Are you sure it was the twenty-seventh you went to Brighton, not the day before, or after?”
“Absolutely certain. It was Aunt Mary’s birthday and we had a party. We always do on the twenty-seventh of April, every year.”
“Then Murray lied. He never saw Sir Arthur!”
Matthew frowned. “Could he have misunderstood the date?”
“No. He looked it up in his book. I saw him.”
“Then the whole consultation was a lie,” Matthew said, curiously melancholy. “And if that is so, then where did the laudanum come from?”
“God knows!” Pitt whispered huskily. “Someone in that club room … someone who took him a brandy he didn’t order.”
Matthew swallowed hard and said nothing.
Pitt sat down again, feeling curiously weak and frightened, and looking across at Matthew’s white face, he knew he felt just the same.
8
Pitt woke up slowly, the thumping in his head becoming more persistent till it dragged him to the surface of consciousness and forced him awake. He opened his eyes. The bedroom was barred with sunlight where the curtains did not quite meet. Charlotte was still asleep beside him, warm and hunched up, her hair in loose braids beginning to come undone.
The banging was still going on. There was no sound in the street outside, no carriages, no drays, no noise of footsteps or voices.
He turned over and looked at the clock beside the bed. It was ten minutes before five.
The banging was getting worse. It was downstairs at the front door.
He sat up reluctantly and pushed his fingers through his hair, then put his jacket on over his nightshirt and walked barefoot across the floor to open the window. Charlotte stirred but did not fully waken. He pushed up the sash and looked out.
The banging stopped and a foreshortened figure stepped back from the door and looked up. It was Tellman. His face was very white in the early morning light and he had come without his usual bowler hat. He looked disheveled and upset.
Pitt indicated that he would come down, and after closing the window again, he walked as quietly as he could back to the door to the landing and went down the stairs into the hall. He undid the lock and pulled the door open.
Tellman looked even worse closer to. His face was ashen and what little flesh there was seemed to be sunken away. He did not wait to be asked.
“Something terrible has happened,” he said as soon as he saw Pitt. “You’d better come and deal with it yourself. I haven’t told anybody yet, but Mr. Farnsworth’s going to be in a right state when he hears.”
“Come in,” Pitt ordered, standing back. “What is it?” All sorts of fears whirled around in his head; presumably some terrible news had come from the German Embassy. Although how would Tellman know that? Had someone absconded, taking papers with them? “What is it?” he demanded more urgently.
Tellman remained on the step. He was so pale he looked as if he might collapse. That in itself alarmed Pitt. He would have thought Tellman inured to anything.
“Mrs. Chancellor,” Tellman said, and coughed painfully, then gulped. “We’ve just found her body, sir.”
Pitt was stunned. His breath caught in his throat and the words came out in a whisper. “Her body?”
“Yes sir. Washed up in the river at the Tower.” He watched Pitt with hollow eyes.
“Suicide?” Pitt said slowly, unable to believe it.
“No.” Tellman stood motionless except that he shivered very slightly although the morning was mild. “Murder.
