to perform this job. He regretted that it was now his duty.
He dealt with the most immediate issues of the day first, passing on all he could to juniors. When that was done, he told them not to interrupt him. Then he went through all Narraway’s records of every crime Gower had been involved with over the past year and a half. He read all the documents, getting a larger picture concerning European revolutionary attempts to improve the lot of the working men. He also read the latest report from Paris.
As he did so, the violence proposed settled over him like a darkness, senseless and destructive. But the anger at injustice he could not help sharing. It grieved him that people had been oppressed and denied a reasonable life for so long that the change, when it came — and it must — would be fuelled by so much hatred.
The more he read, the greater the tragedy seemed to him that the high idealism of the revolution of ’48 had been crushed with so little legacy of change left behind.
Gower’s own reports were spare, as if he had edited out any emotive language. At first Pitt thought that was just a very clear style of writing. Then he began to wonder if it were more than that: a guarding of Gower’s own feelings, in case he gave something away unintentionally, or Narraway himself picked up a connection, an omission, even a false note.
Then he took out Narraway’s own papers. He had read most of them before, because it was part of his duty in taking over the position. Many of the cases he was familiar with anyway, from general knowledge within the Branch. He selected three specifically to do with Europe and socialist unrest, those associated with Britain, memberships of socialist political groups such as the Fabian Society. He compared them with the cases on which Gower had worked, and looked for any notes that Narraway might have made.
What were the facts he knew, personally? That Gower had killed West and made it appear it was Wrexham who had done so. All doubt left him that it had been extremely quick thinking on Gower’s part. It had been his intention all the time, and with Wrexham’s collaboration. Pitt recalled the chase across London and then on to Southampton. He was bitterly conscious that it had been too easy. The conclusion was inevitable: Gower and Wrexham were working together. To what end? Again, looked at from the result, it could only have been to keep Pitt in St Malo — or, more specifically, to keep him from being in London, and aware of what was happening to Narraway.
But to what greater purpose? Was it to do with socialist uprisings? Or was that also a blind, a piece of deception?
Who was Wrexham? He was mentioned briefly, twice, in Gower’s reports. He was a young man of respectable background who had been to university and dropped out of a modern history course to travel in Europe. Gower suggested he had been to Germany and Russia, but seemed uncertain. It was all very vague, and with little substantiation. Certainly there was nothing to cause Narraway to have him watched, or enquired into any further. Presumably it was just sufficient information to allow Gower to say afterwards that he was a legitimate suspect.
The more he studied what was there, the more Pitt was certain that there had to be a far deeper plan behind the random acts he had connected in bits and pieces. The picture was too sketchy, the rewards too slight to make sense of murder. It was all disparate, and too small.
The most urgent question was whether Narraway had been very carefully made to look guilty of theft in order to gain some kind of revenge for old defeats and failures, or whether the real intent was to get him dismissed from Lisson Grove and out of England? The more Pitt looked at it, the more he believed it was the latter.
If Narraway had been here, what would he have made of the information? Surely he would have seen the pattern? Why could Pitt not see it? What was he missing?
He was still comparing one event with another and searching for the links, the commonality, when there was a sharp knock on the door. He had asked not to be interrupted. This had better be something of importance, or he would tear a strip off the man, whoever he was.
‘Come in,’ he said sharply.
The door opened and Stoker came in, closing it behind him.
Pitt stared at him coldly.
Stoker ignored his expression. ‘I tried to speak to you last night,’ he said quietly. ‘I saw Mrs Pitt in Dublin. She was well and in good spirits. She’s a lady of great courage. Mr Narraway is fortunate to have her fighting his cause, although I dare say it’s not for his sake she’s doing it.’
Pitt stared at him. He looked subtly quite different from the way he had when standing in front of Croxdale the previous evening. Was that a difference in respect? In loyalty? Personal feeling? Or because one was the truth and the other lies?
‘Did you see Mr Narraway?’ Pitt asked him.
‘Yes, but not to speak to. It was the day O’Neil was shot,’ Stoker answered.
‘By whom?’
‘I don’t know. I think probably Talulla Lawless, but whether anyone will ever prove that, I don’t know. Mr Narraway’s in trouble, Mr Pitt. He has powerful enemies-’
‘I know that,’ Pitt interrupted him. ‘Apparently dating back twenty years.’
‘Not that,’ Stoker said impatiently. ‘Now, here in Lisson Grove. Someone wanted him discredited and out of England, and wanted you in France, gone in the other direction, where you wouldn’t know what was going on here and couldn’t help.’
‘Tell me all you know of what happened in Ireland,’ Pitt demanded. ‘And for heaven’s sake sit down!’ It was not that he wanted the information in detail so much as he needed the chance to weigh everything Stoker said, and make some judgement as to the truth of it, and exactly where Stoker’s loyalties were.
Stoker obeyed without comment.
‘I was there only two days-’ he began.
‘Who sent you?’ Pitt interrupted.
‘No one. I made it look like it was Mr Narraway, before he went.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t believe he’s guilty any more than you do,’ Stoker said bitterly. ‘He’s a hard man, clever, cold at times, in his own way, but he’d never betray his country. They got rid of him because they knew he’d see what was going on here, and stop it. They thought you might too, in loyalty to Mr Narraway, even if you didn’t spot what they’re doing. No offence, sir, but you don’t know enough yet to see what it is.’
Pitt winced, but he had no argument. It was painfully true.
‘Mr Narraway seemed to be trying to find out who set him up to look like he took the money meant for Mulhare, probably because that would lead back to whoever it is here in London,’ Stoker went on. ‘I don’t know whether he found out or not, because they got him by killing O’Neil. They set that up perfectly. Fixed a quarrel between them in front of a couple o’ score of people, then somehow got him to go alone to O’Neil’s house, and had O’Neil shot just before he got there.
‘By all accounts, Mrs Pitt was right on his heels, but he swore to the police that she wasn’t there at the time, so they didn’t bother her. She went back to where she was staying, and that’s the last I know of it. Mr Narraway was arrested and no doubt, if we don’t do anything, they’ll try him and hang him. But we’ll have a week or two before that.’ He stopped, meeting Pitt with steady, demanding eyes.
He must trust Stoker. The advantage outweighed the risk.
‘Then we have about ten days in which to rescue Narraway,’ he replied. ‘Perhaps whoever is behind this will be as aware of that as we are. It is safe to assume that by that time they will have achieved whatever it is they plan, and for which they needed him gone.’
Stoker sat up a little straighter. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘And we have no idea who it is that is planning it,’ Pitt continued. ‘Except that they have great power and authority within the Branch, so we dare not trust anyone. Even Sir Gerald himself may choose to trust this person rather than trust you or me.’
Stoker allowed himself a slight smile. ‘You’re right, sir. And that could be the end of everything, probably of you an’ me, and certainly of Mr Narraway.’
‘Then we are alone in working out what it is.’ Pitt had already made up his mind that if he were to trust Stoker at all, then it might as well be entirely. This was not the time to let Stoker believe he was only half relied on.
