Felix said, “But why would she slander me – and herself for that matter?”
“Yes, it is a desperate strategy – which makes me wonder if she has not something heavier on her conscience than deceiving her parents. Barnes may have been blackmailing her. She may have lost her temper with him.”
Felix scanned the notes pinned to the wall.
“White ribbon?” he said pointing to the piece of paper on which the Major had written the words in large letters.
“Ah yes, I wanted your opinion about that. It may be a possible ligature. Barnes habitually wore a ribbon with the key to the tower about his neck. About one inch broad. Would that have been enough to do the trick? Judging from the marks you recorded on your drawing, it looks about right to me.”
Felix studied his own sketch of the dead man again for a moment. “It’s plausible.”
“And either a woman or a man could have the strength to do it?”
“Yes, but Miss Pritchard? Surely not.”
“You are very forgiving considering all the difficulty she has caused you.”
“If she is in love with Watkins, I suppose it makes sense that she should use me to hide the truth. It is not flattering, but then –” After a moment he went on, “I could not imagine she would actually murder anyone. She is spirited, but not aggressive.”
“People do the strangest things under extreme circumstances,” Major Vernon said and stood looking at his papery aide-memoires, his arms folded, his brow furrowed. “There is still something missing here. Still something...”
Felix decided after a moment or two he must speak.
“I was surprised not to find you here last night, sir, when I got back. So was Rollins for that matter.”
“You managed very well without me,” Vernon said.
“Yes, but...”
“Do you want to know where I was?” said Major Vernon.
“I believe I know that,” Felix said. “You see, I went to call on Mrs Morgan. And I was told –” He broke off. “You should be careful, sir.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Morgan was there. He’s a brute and a jealous one. He knows you were with her last night.”
“Morgan was there?” said Major Vernon. “Why on earth didn’t you say so before? It is just as well I took her away. Tell me exactly what happened.”
“You don’t deny it, then?” said Felix. “Taking her away?”
“Of course not. What are you implying, Mr Carswell? Do you think something has passed between us?”
“Does it need to be implied? It seemed self-evident.”
“I am glad you think so highly of me,” said Major Vernon, after a moment. “Not to mention of the lady.”
“It is difficult when all I hear of her is so –”
“Yes?” Vernon said. “What do you hear?”
“That she is –” he broke off. He could not bring himself to actually say it. “And you, sir, well, you yourself would be the first to admit that you have not been blameless in your conduct. If what happened in January is anything to go by, then –”
“That does answer not my question. And do you really think that I would be such a fool? My record may not be impressive but I assure you, in respect of Mrs Morgan, there is nothing remotely questionable going on between us. You should not believe anything you hear about her. She has been cruelly misrepresented.”
Was he lying? Felix really could not decide and neither could he give him the benefit of the doubt. The fact remained they had very possibly been together all night – that was bad enough. It implied nothing and everything.
“Tell me what happened when you went to the house,” said Major Vernon, pouring more coffee. “This is of utmost importance.”
“Morgan was extremely rude and unpleasant. There isn’t much more to be said than that. And roaring drunk, as was that brother of hers, Ridolfi. He threatened me.”
“Morgan, you mean?” Felix nodded. “What does he look like?”
“Big, burly, dark hair thinning on top, but with long sideburns. Manner swaggering and very Welsh. You could not mistake him a crowd – he was at least six foot tall. He looks like a stage villain – not that he isn’t one in real life, which he is. There is no mistake about that. A brute.”
Major Vernon rubbed his face.
“We shall just have to make sure his crimes catch up with him now, Mr Carswell. I am determined on that. Your description will be extremely useful. You might do one of your sketches, if you have a moment.”
“You think he is behind the letters?”
“Yes, but not just him. I have an idea that –”
There was a knock on the door and one of the constables came in with a message.
“It’s Inspector Jackson’s wife, Mr Carswell. Can you come at once? The midwife can’t deal with it.”
“You’d better go,” said Major Vernon, with some concern.
Felix did not need to be reminded of the urgency of the case. Mrs Jackson had a history of miscarriages, and had never yet carried a child to full term. He arrived to discover that she had passed a most miserable night in the early stages of labour. Her situation was now very painful, and Felix, although he had observed his share of human distress, felt shocked by the intensity of her suffering. It seemed that all those ancient beliefs about the pains of childbirth being a perpetual punishment upon women for the sin of Eve might indeed be true. If not, it was appalling that the natural process of labour could in itself be responsible for such misery. It went against reason that birth, a process which ought to be as natural as breathing, and which in the animal kingdom was attended by so little distress to the mother, should in humankind cause such torture.
Her husband never left her side and he seemed to suffer in his way as greatly as she did, and his tender diligence was so at odds with the man he had seen swaggering about the Unicorn in his silver laced coat and high hat. It was a revelation, and Felix wondered again at the business and meaning of marriage; of husband and wives and how they were linked by something profounder that the mere vagaries of sentimental love and hot-blooded lust. This connection, so strange and deep between them, was something which he did not understand. He wondered if he would ever manage to make such a contract. He did not think he could bear to stand by a see someone he loved suffer as this woman was suffering.
The morning did not go well with them. By eleven he had brought out, by means of forceps, a dead boy – perfect in every way but strangled by the cord. It was all he could do to remember his duty and help her through the last stages of the birth. Her wretchedness was beyond words, and he was glad to see her drift at last into an opiate stupor, her own life preserved as best it could be for the moment.
He went down to the parlour where the curate was praying over the body of the child with Mrs Jackson the elder, the Inspector’s mother. She was fighting her tears back as she tried to say the Lord’s Prayer. He stood in the doorway, unable to go in. The dead child had been shrouded in one of the little sheets carefully sewn for his birth and placed in the basket that would have been his bed. These things were commonplace, and he knew he ought to be hardened to such things now. But he was not, and he left at the first opportunity, knowing he would have to return soon enough.
Chapter Forty
Harrison was lying on his bed in his cell, wrapped up in a grey blanket that matched his complexion.
“You have no right to interview me,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“What on earth gives you that idea?” said Giles.
“I will not speak to you.”
“Then your actions will speak for you. If you had stayed put, Mr Harrison, and had not attempted to leave Northminster, I would be inclined to take all your denials a little more seriously. A man who takes it into his head to run is bound to look more suspicious.”
“That is precisely why I decided to leave. You are all suspicions and supposition, Major Vernon. You will not take me at my word. I may as well put the noose about my neck.”
“Then give me something else, Mr Harrison,” Giles said, “give me something I can work with. I need more than flat denials to accept your story. At this moment I have nothing.”
“I don’t know what I can say to convince you.”
“Perhaps you could tell me something about Charlie’s relationship with Mr Watkins.”
“Why?” said Harrison.
“Just tell me what you know. I believe he was teaching him the organ.”
“Yes.”
“Did Charlie tell you any gossip about him?”
“Gossip?”
“That he was courting someone in secret, for example.”
“Oh, that, yes – the Dean’s daughter. Yes. He mentioned it.”
“And Charlie caught them together, I understand?”
“Yes, apparently. Swore me to secrecy about it. How do you know that?”
“That’s beside the point,” Giles said. “Now why did he swear you to secrecy?”
“He wanted that cat kept well in the bag.”
“Are you sure there wasn’t any ill-feeling between them because of that?”
Harrison stirred a little under his blanket and then answered, “For my own sake, I’d like to say there was – because since Watkins found poor Charlie, that’s as suspicious as my apparently being the last person to see him alive, is it not?” Giles nodded. “But if there was, I wasn’t aware of it. Watkins is a good fellow – he taught Charlie for free, and his wanting to murder Charlie over that – well, it seems as ridiculous as my wanting to do it. You’ve only got straws to clutch at there, Major Vernon, if you don’t mind me saying.”
There was no timbre of apology as he said it and Giles wondered again if he was dealing with a clever liar.
“What about Miss Pritchard?” Giles asked. “Did Charlie have any dealings with her? Did he ever mention her to you?”
“He said she was terrified of the Dean finding out – that he was apparently the heavy father
par excellence,
which isn’t really surprising if you listening to him thumping out a text from the pulpit.”
“You have the advantage on me there, Mr Harrison. I haven’t heard the Dean preach.”
“There are three sorts of sermons, if you ask me,” said Harrison, addressing his remarks to the ceiling of the cell. “There is the sort that is easy not to listen to. Then there is the sermon good enough to be worth listening to, and then there is the bad sermon which you cannot avoid listening to, because generally the fellow is a noisy ranter who shouts his way through it.”
“And the Dean is a noisy ranter?”
“Heavens, yes! Like a dissenting demagogue. It’s pretty shocking.”
Giles was amused that Harrison, of all people, could be shocked by a clergyman’s way of preaching.
“And it brings the wrong people in, “ Harrison went on. “People who don’t care for the music and talk through it, and then sit in dumb silence while he harangues them about hell-fire.”
“Charlie was not profiting in any way from that information, though?” Giles asked. “After all you and he were not averse to a little blackmail, were you?”
“I refuse to comment on that,” said Harrison.
“There is no need. I have enough evidence to charge you with blackmail should I choose. But finding Charlie’s murderer takes precedence, don’t you think? If you are innocent you must want to solve this as much as I do – if not more so, given your relationship with him.”
Harrison gave a grimace.
“If there is anything,” Giles went on, “any little fact that you think might be of consequence I do advise you to tell me, Mr Harrison. Let’s go back to that last argument you had with him – that refusal of his to come with you to London. What reason did he give you?”
“I told you – he didn’t want to leave Rose.”
“Is that all?”
There was a long silence. Harrison still stared at the ceiling. There was clearly something more that needed to be said.
“Harrison, come now!” Giles said, and reached out and yanked the blanket off the bed.
“All right, all right,” said Harrison, scrabbling up from the bed, anxious to get the blanket back. “There was something; someone settled a tailor’s bill for him and he would not say who. We had an argument about it – but he would not tell me who it was.”
“Mr Geoffreys?”
“I suppose it must have been, but then why didn’t he say? After all, well, you know.”
“Do you think there was a possibility Charlie was involved with someone else?” There was another long silence.
“That is possible,” Harrison said. He spoke rather quietly as if it pained him.
“Why do you think that?”
“There was a box, this fancy box. He got this box from somewhere. He turned up with it, having been given, it but he would not say who it was from. It drove me mad.”
“Can you describe it to me?”
“I only saw it the once and I was glad not to see it again – but it was a fancy sort of box – about a foot long, with inlay on it. You know the sort of thing. “
“I believe I have it. It was where he kept your letters.”
Harrison turned back to Giles. He looked as if he had just been dealt a body blow. He sat down.
“Well, well, that is fine,” he said.
“And you have no idea who this mysterious person was?”
“No. I wish I did. Or do I? I don’t know. But there was someone, yes. Yes.” He gave a great sigh.
“You are sure this topic did not feature in your last conversation with him? I’m wondering – since you have failed to mention this before – if that was not deliberate, Mr Harrison, rather than simple forgetfulness. This secret rival for your affections – well, it is rather provoking for you – and you have already admitted you were extremely angry with Charlie for refusing to go with you to London. Perhaps this person’s existence was the spark that lit the tinder. It would be more than understandable. He’d betrayed you. That is enough to provoke the most steadfast lover.”
“I did not kill him!” exclaimed Harrison. “How many times must I tell you that?”
“Tell me this man’s name,” Giles said. “I assume it was a man?”
“I don’t know! If I knew I would tell you – like a shot. Charlie would not say. All I know is that whoever it was gave him that damned box.”
“And who was the tailor?” Giles said. “The tailor whose bill was settled?”
“Lockley,” said Harrison. “Who else is worth patronising in this place?”
“Thank you. That is most useful. Now, tell me about Fildyke. Why did you go there last night? Money?”