“Prove it,” she challenged, staring at Pitt with brilliant eyes, her face set, jaw tight, her remarkable profile as stiff as if carved in almond-tinted stone.
“It’s no use, Harriet,” Soames interrupted at last. “The Superintendent overheard my conversation when I was passing the information. I don’t know how, but he was able to recite it back to me.”
She stood as if frozen. “What conversation? With whom?”
Soames glanced at Pitt, a question in his eyes.
Pitt shook his head.
“With the man at the Colonial Office,” Soames replied, avoiding using his name.
“What conversation?” Her voice was strangled in her throat. “When?”
“On Wednesday, late afternoon. Why? What difference can it make now?”
She turned very slowly to look at Pitt, horror in her eyes and disgust so absolute and so terrible her face was made ugly with it.
“Matthew,” she whispered. “Matthew told you, didn’t he?”
Pitt did not know what to say. He could not deny it, and yet neither could he bear to confirm that her charge was true. It would be fatuous and unbelievable to suggest that Matthew might not have understood the meaning of what he said, or what the result would be.
“You can’t deny it, can you!” she accused him.
“Harriet …” Soames began.
She swung around to him. “Matthew betrayed you, Papa … and me. He betrayed both of us for his precious Colonial Office. They’ll promote him, and you’ll be ruined.” There was a sob in her voice and she was so close to tears she barely had control.
Pitt wanted to defend Matthew, even to plead his cause, but he knew from her face that it would be useless, and anyway, Matthew had the right to say what he could to explain himself. Pitt should not preempt that, no matter how intensely he felt. He met Harriet’s eyes, full of overwhelming hurt, anger, confusion and the passion to protect. He understood it far more deeply than reason or words could have conveyed. He wanted to protect Matthew from the hurt he knew was inevitable, and with the same fierce instinct to save the weaker, the more vulnerable, that burned in her.
And both of them were powerless.
“It is despicable,” she said, catching her breath and almost choking. “How could anyone be so … so beneath contempt?”
“To give away their country’s secrets, with which they had been entrusted, or to report that treason to the authorities, Miss Soames?” Pitt said quietly.
She was white to the lips. “It … it is not … treason.” She found it difficult to say the word. “He … he … was deceived…. That is not treason … and … and you will not excuse Matthew to me-not ever!”
Soames climbed to his feet with difficulty. “I shall resign, of course.”
Pitt did not demur, nor point out that he would be extremely unlikely to have any option.
“Yes sir,” he agreed. “In the meantime, I think it would be advisable if you were to come to the Bow Street station and make a statement in respect of what you have just told me.”
“I suppose that is inevitable,” Soames agreed reluctantly. “I’ll … I’ll come on Monday.”
“No, Mr. Soames, you will come now,” Pitt said firmly.
Soames looked startled.
Harriet moved closer to her father, putting her arm through his. “He has already told you, Superintendent, he will go on Monday! You have had your victory. What else do you need? He is ruined! Isn’t that enough for you?”
“It is not I who has to be satisfied, Miss Soames,” Pitt replied with as much patience as he could muster. He was not sure whether she was so naive. “Your father is not alone in this tragedy. There are other people to arrest….”
“Then go and arrest them! Do your duty! There’s nothing more to keep you here!”
“The telephone.” Pitt looked at the instrument where it sat on its cradle.
“What about it?” She regarded it with loathing. “If you want to use it, you may!”
“So may you,” he pointed out. “To warn others, and when I arrive there, they will be gone. Surely you can see the necessity for action now, and not Monday morning?”
“Oh …”
“Mr. Soames?” He waited with growing impatience.
“Yes … I er …” He looked confused, broken, and for that moment at least, Pitt was almost as sorry for him as Harriet, even though he also felt a contempt for his foolishness. He had been arrogant enough to think he knew better than his colleagues, and no doubt a little self-importance had played its part, the knowledge that he knew secrets others did not. But he was going to pay an uncommon price for a very common sin.
Pitt opened the door for him.
“I’m coming with him!” Harriet declared defiantly.
“No, you are not,” Pitt said.
“I …”
“Please!” Soames turned to look at her. “Please … leave me a little dignity, my dear. I should rather face this alone.”
She fell back, the tears spilling over her cheeks, and Pitt escorted Soames out, leaving her standing in the doorway, her face filled with anger and overwhelming grief.
Pitt took Soames to Bow Street and left him there with Tellman, to take all the details of precisely what information he had passed to Thorne and when. He had hesitated to take him directly to the police station; it was a sensitive matter and he had been directly commissioned from higher up. But he could not take him to Matthew, the person who had originally instigated the investigation, because of the relationship between them. Nor could he take him to Linus Chancellor, who would be at home at this hour on a Saturday, and in no frame of mind to deal with such a matter. And he did not entirely trust any of the other people concerned, nor was he certain to find them in the Colonial Office, even if he had.
He had not the power to go directly to Lord Salisbury, and certainly not to the Prime Minister. He would arrest Thorne, and then make a complete report of the matter for Farnsworth.
He took two constables with him, just in case Thorne should prove violent. It was not beyond possibility. Secondly they would be necessary to conduct a search of the premises and prevent any destruction of further evidence which would no doubt be required if the matter came to trial. It was always possible the government might prefer to deal with it all discreetly, rather than expose its error and vulnerabilities to public awareness.
He arrived by hansom with the constables, and posted one at the back door, just in case of attempted flight. That would be undignified and absurd, but not beyond possibility. All kinds of people can panic, sometimes those one least expects.
A footman opened the front door, looking extremely sober-in fact the pallor of his face suggested he had already received some kind of shock and was still reeling from its effects.
“Yes sir?” he enquired without expression.
“I require to see Mr. Thorne.” Pitt made it a statement, not a request.
“I’m sorry sir, he is not at home,” the footman replied, still no emotion whatever in his face.
“When are you expecting his return?” Pitt felt a surprising frustration, probably because he had liked both Thorne himself and Christabel, and he loathed having to come on this errand. Being faced with postponing it made it even worse because it prolonged it.
“I am not, sir.” The footman looked confused and distressed, his eyes meeting Pitt’s directly for the first time.
“What do you mean, you are not?” Pitt snapped. “You mean you don’t know at what hour he will return? What about Mrs. Thorne? Is she at home?”
“No, sir, both Mr. and Mrs. Thorne left for Portugal yesterday evening, and my information is that they are not returning to England.”
“Not … at all?” Pitt was incredulous.
“No, sir, not at all. The household staff have been dismissed, except myself and the butler, and we are here
