don’t know men, and you don’t know love. You never did! Julius is a madman. Minnie had the courage to face that. But then she was always braver, stronger, and better than you!”
She looked at him and saw the hate in his face, for Julius, and for her too. In all his agony over Minnie-and she believed that-he had a joy that Julius would be destroyed as well. Perhaps it was all he had left now.
Except to destroy her too.
How would he do it? If Julius was locked in his room, he could not cut her throat and her stomach and blame him for it. But he could implicate her somehow, in something, and then put her aside, divorce her. Then perhaps he could marry Amelia Parr!
She looked at him, searched his face, and believed with ice-cold certainty that it was true. There was nothing to protect her, except her own nerve and intelligence, and a will not to be beaten.
“We’ll see,” she said softly. “It isn’t the end yet.”
CHAPTER NINE
Victor narraway sat in the hansom oblivious of the sunlit streets through which he passed. He was more concerned with the murders in the Palace than he had allowed Pitt to know. Five years ago, at the time of the Whitechapel atrocities by the man who had come to be known as Jack the Ripper, the Queen had almost retired from public duties. The Prince of Wales’s extravagance had been out of control and he was deeply in debt. The reputation of the Crown was so low that the cry for a republic was finding many to answer it.
There had been ugly riots in the streets, especially in the East End, and around the Whitechapel area in particular.
Three years later, Pitt had encountered the same emotions still high with Charles Voisey’s attempt at a republican coup. It had come far too close to success, and far too recently for a scandal like this not to be profoundly dangerous. There was a current of political unrest that was more serious than Pitt was aware.
The other matter that disturbed Narraway was the whole issue of the Cape-to-Cairo railway. On the surface it was a brilliant idea: daring, farsighted, and patriotic. It would unite Africa physically, accomplish new marvels in engineering and exploration, and bring culture, civilization, and possibly Christianity to new regions never before fully explored. And of course it would also be the greatest boost for trade in the Empire since the beginnings of the East India Company over a century before.
However, such a vast undertaking had negative aspects as well, and there was a gnawing doubt in his mind. It had been his habit all his life to listen to both sides of any argument, to give at least as much weight to the opinion against as to the praise. It was a practice that had proved painful, and often unpopular, but it had saved both money and life, not to mention political embarrassment.
In this case he had heard only murmurings against the scheme.
These could quite easily be seen as envy or timidity for such a huge venture. He was on his way to keep an appointment to dine with Watson Forbes at his house, where there would be time to extend the conversation as far as it needed to go. He had not canceled it because of Minnie Sorokine’s death, which might prove that the whole issue was Julius Sorokine’s personal madness, some sexual deviation with no real relevance to the Cape-to-Cairo project at all. Some of the other possibilities were too fearful to think of. The ghost of the Ripper still haunted his mind.
Regardless of that, there were questions about the railway that troubled him, doubts that, if well founded, could damage the Empire for generations to come.
He arrived at Forbes’s house and was received by the butler, who conducted him into the same pleasant room as before, with its African paintings and curios.
Forbes offered him sherry, then stood by the mantel, although the fire was not lit. The late-summer sun streamed in through the long windows, making jeweled patterns on the colors of the Turkish rug.
He seemed mildly amused, his eyes bright.
“What is it I can tell you at such length, Mr. Narraway? I am not involved in this railway project. Did I not make that clear?”
“Quite clear,” Narraway replied. “Therefore your views on it may be less driven by the desire for it to succeed.”
Forbes smiled. “You think Dunkeld is too partisan to entertain a rational judgment?”
“Wouldn’t you be, if your future and your honor depended on it?”
Narraway asked.
Forbes sipped his sherry, rolling it over his tongue before swallowing. “Of course I would. It is the greatest adventure of a lifetime, and more than most men ever dream of. Have you some specific fear in mind?”
“Cost?” Narraway suggested.
“Every building venture costs more than one calculated,” Forbes replied with a rueful smile. “Whether it is a garden shed or a transcon-tinental railway. One expects it and plans accordingly. Or are you afraid it will cost more than it is worth?”
“Could it?” Narraway asked. Cost was not what he had feared at all, but he wanted to test Forbes on everything. He needed to know why, with all his African experience, he was not involved-in consultation at least.
Forbes was watching him over the rim of his glass. “No,” he said simply. “The exercise of building it will bring in vast profits of all sorts: engineering, trade, timber, steel, sheer reputation. And Marquand is brilliant. All the investment money will be protected, as far as the builders are concerned. Africa has diamonds, gold, copper, timber, ivory-just to start with. Cecil Rhodes is totally behind the venture. Money will pour in.” There was no doubt in either his voice or his face.
Narraway tried to read him more deeply and knew he failed.
There was a reservation of some kind in Forbes, but he had no idea what it was. It could even be some personal emotion that had to do with the people involved rather than the project itself.
“Is it likely that we do not have the engineering skills?” he asked.
“Much of it is relatively unknown country. Chasms will have to be bridged, mountains cut through, deserts and shifting sands crossed, hostile territory of all sorts, possibly even jungles traversed.”
“It will be surveyed before they begin,” Forbes replied without hesitation. “What they cannot cross they will skirt around. That may require some extra diplomatic skill, but Sorokine has it. And when he wants to, he has enormous charm. Congo Free State may prove difficult, but he won’t have to bother with them if German East Africa is willing to oblige. No doubt he will play one against the other.” He sipped at his sherry again. “Most of the territory is British anyway.
They’ll manage.” The tone of his voice dipped a little. There was a sadness in the lines of his face.
Narraway moved to lean forward, then changed his mind. What was the shadow in Forbes’s mind, the reservation that still troubled him?
“It sounds like a great advantage for the British Empire,” Narraway said slowly. “Something that would bring benefits of all kinds, possibly far into the future. I assume we will make enemies. Belgium, France, and Germany just to begin with.”
Forbes smiled. “Very likely,” he agreed. “But then any advantage to one nation is a disadvantage to others. If you were afraid of offend-ing people, you would never do anything at all. It’s a matter of degree.”
Narraway knew they were playing games with words. They had not touched the real issue yet. “You believe the project can succeed?”
“Yes. Dunkeld will not stop until he has done so.”
“And make himself a fortune.” It was a conclusion rather than a question.
There was a change in Forbes’s face so small it could have been no more than an alteration in the light. “I imagine so.”
“And so will the providers of timber, steel, labor, and the shipping of gold, diamonds, copper, timber, and ivory,” Narraway added.
Forbes’s face was motionless. He drew in his breath, then let it out with a sigh. “You want to know why I am not concerned to be involved with the railway. You think perhaps it is more of a personal issue with Cahoon
