“So ’e knew wot room it would ’appen in,” she followed his reasoning, although it frightened her so she was cold in the depth of her stomach. “Wot if the Prince jus’ woke up an’ all the blood were over
’im, but not ’er? Then it wouldn’t matter where she were killed.” She gulped. “Mr. Pitt, I got an idea as she weren’t killed ’ere at all. That box wot were brought in ’ad another body in it, not ’er. An’ Sadie packed ’erself inter the box again an’ were taken out without no one knowin’ ’cept Mr. Dunkeld.”
Pitt stared at her, a dawning understanding of the entire plan on his face. “Dunkeld was the one who hired the women!” he exclaimed.
“They were allies in it. To blackmail the Prince of Wales into helping them with the African railway. Then he couldn’t afford not to be entirely on Dunkeld’s side, no matter what he actually believed.
Dunkeld simply used the opportunity to get rid of Sorokine at the same time!”
Gracie blinked. “Then ’oo killed Mrs. Sorokine? ’Oo did she accuse? It ’ad ter be ’er pa, because ’e were the one wot ’ad the dish.”
His face creased in pity. “Poor Minnie. She was far too clever for her own survival. I dare say he didn’t mean to kill her, just lost his temper and-”
“Yer don’ slit someone’s throat ’cos yer lost yer temper,” Gracie pointed out. “An’ yer certainly don’t slice their guts open.”
“He had to make it look like the first crime,” Pitt reminded her. “And he had to make the first crime look like the one in Cape Town.”
“ ’Ow’d ’e know wot that one were like?” she asked.
“From someone who saw it, I don’t know who. But it fits, Gracie.”
His voice took on a vibrancy again. “Dunkeld planned it for long before he came. He brought blood, and a replacement dish. He knew it was there. Someone must have shown it to him. He’s been the Prince’s guest here before.”
Gracie shivered.
“He had a dead woman brought in,” Pitt went on. “And you’re right, Sadie was part of the plot. It could be she who insisted on sleeping in the Queen’s bed!” He was speaking more rapidly, his voice eager now. “When the Prince was in a drunken stupor, perhaps aided by a powder of some sort, she slipped out and went to Cahoon.
“Perhaps she even helped Cahoon take the dead woman out of the box, before getting into it herself. After the box was removed, Cahoon carried the dead woman, probably in a blanket or something, and put her beside the Prince, and splashed some of the blood around. He kept the rest to put in the linen cupboard, then went to bed. That’s why we could never find Sadie’s clothes-she was still wearing them. Cahoon had already arranged for a message to come, and went to waken the Prince himself, and make absolutely certain he was in the spot to see the mess, and offer to help!”
“The bleedin’ bastard!” she said with profound feeling. “Wot yer gonna do? Yer can’t let Mr. Sorokine be put away for it!”
“Of course not. I’m going to see His Royal Highness.” He rose.
“Be careful!” she cried out. “Mr. Pitt, ’e in’t goin’ ter-”
“When Mr. Narraway comes back, tell him what has happened,”
he cut across her. “And ask him to wait until I return.” He left without even looking back to see if she would obey.
She stood still, hands clenched, her body shaking.
She was terrified for what would happen to him. Suddenly everything that mattered was falling apart. The people she had regarded with admiration were no wiser or braver than she was. The Palace itself was just like anywhere else, full of pettiness, ambition, and shifts of truth. And now Pitt was walking straight into disaster like a child going to feed lions, and she hadn’t stopped him, and there was nobody to ask for help.
Hot tears scalded her eyes.
Again Pitt had to wait until the Prince was willing to see him.
Time was slipping through his fingers. Any minute Narraway would return with police to take Julius away. Of course he could be released afterward, but it would be far better not to make the error in the first place. People were loath to admit fault; the more important it was, the more reluctant.
He wrote a short letter on a page from his notebook and handed it to the footman. All it said was, “I realize what Dunkeld has done to help. But now more help than that is needed. Pitt.”
He was conducted into the Prince’s presence five minutes later, and the footman withdrew, leaving them alone. The Prince was white-faced, sweat shining on his brow.
“What do you mean by this, sir?” he demanded, holding up the scrap of paper. “It looks like an attempt at. . at blackmail!”
“No, sir,” Pitt said with as much respect as he could pretend. “It is an attempt to avoid blackmail. I believe Mr. Dunkeld went to considerable trouble, and ingenuity, to make you seem acutely vulnerable, sir, and I intend to see that he does not profit from it.”
“I don’t know what you mean. You are on dangerous ground, Inspector. Cahoon Dunkeld is a friend of mine, a gentleman of skill and honor, and very great loyalty. Far more than you, I may say, who are paid to be a servant to the Crown!” he accused him.
“Yes, sir.” Pitt breathed in slowly, knowing the risk he was taking.
If he was wrong, he would be ruined. He would not even walk a beat as a common policeman after this. “You entertained a prostitute of particular intelligence and skill, who insisted she would give her favors only if she could do it in the Queen’s own bed.”
“How. . how dare you, sir?” the Prince sputtered.
“You saw no harm in it,” Pitt continued. “You took her there, and after she kept her word, you fell asleep, probably assisted by a little laudanum in your drink. When you awoke there was a dead woman beside you, or possibly only a great deal of blood.” He stopped, afraid the Prince was going to have a heart attack or apoplexy. He seemed to be choking, grasping at his collar, and he had gone ashen gray. Pitt had no idea how to help. He had not foreseen this.
He turned and strode to the door to call for assistance.
“Wait!” the Prince cried out. “Wait!”
Pitt stopped.
“I didn’t kill her!” the Prince said desperately. “I swear on the Crown of England, I never hurt her at all!”
“I know that, sir,” Pitt said quietly, turning back to face him. “She was dead before she was ever brought into the Palace.”
“She can’t. . what are you saying? I lay with a dead woman? I assure you she was very much alive!”
“Sadie was, yes. But the corpse beside you, and later in the linen cupboard, was not Sadie,” Pitt explained. “That is why her clothes had to be removed. The difference would have given it away. And there was probably no time. Dunkeld took care of it all for you, didn’t he? Ran a bath, told you to wash away all the blood, and he himself removed the body and the bloody sheets. Later, he had trusted servants clean up the mess, the blood on the floor, and replaced the broken Limoges dish, which you thought you had smashed in your rage with the poor woman.”
The Prince simply nodded. He was still gray-faced, his eyes almost glazed. He was mortified with embarrassment at being exposed as such an incompetent libertine in front of Pitt, of all people.
“He told you to say nothing, and it would all be all right. He would get in Special Branch, and they would keep the matter discreet,” Pitt continued.
“What about Sorokine?” the Prince floundered. “If he wasn’t guilty, why did he kill his wife, poor woman?”
“He didn’t,” Pitt said simply. “She worked out the truth, and must have faced Dunkeld with it. I don’t imagine he intended to kill her, he probably only tried to silence her, and they both lost their tempers.
They were very alike. When he realized he had struck her too hard he had to make it look as if it were the same as the other crime, and the one in Africa too, of which he could not have been guilty. It must have been one of the hardest things in his life to have cut her like that, even though she was already dead.” He thought of Minnie’s body lying with that slit-open abdomen, but her bosom still decently covered. She had not been gutted as the other women were.
