Bedford Square - Anne Perry [105]
He answered honestly. “I should value your judgment. You may think to ask him questions I would have missed.”
She nodded her assent. She was grateful; she loved to be involved. Her intellect and her curiosity were as sharp as ever, and the foibles of society had bored her for years. She knew them all so well she could predict them. Only the rarest, most genuine eccentric still awoke her interest or amusement. But of course she would not say so. She merely smiled, and asked Pitt if he would care for dinner first, which he accepted, asking permission to use the telephone to let Charlotte know that he would not be home.
“Of course, there are many possibilities,” Theloneus Quade said as they sat in the late-evening sun in his quiet library, the small summer garden beyond the window filled with the sounds of birdsong and of falling water from a stone fountain. The long light was apricot-gold on the full-blown roses, and a white clematis shone in a flash of silver.
“Tannifer may be pressured to grant a loan which he is aware cannot be satisfactorily guaranteed,” he continued earnestly. “Or indeed repaid. Or to overlook dealings which are fraudulent, not to investigate accounts when there has been embezzlement.”
“I know.” Pitt sat back in the comfortable chair. The room was quiet, charming, and full of individual touches. He had noticed books on a wide variety of subjects as he came in: the fall of Byzantium, Chinese porcelain, a history of the Tsars of Russia, the poetry of Dante and of William Blake and a dozen other unrelated subjects, and on the wall a watercolor of ships by Bonington which he thought was probably quite valuable. Certainly it was very lovely.
“It could also be someone who has already committed some act for which he will shortly be tried,” Theloneus went on. “And he hopes to subvert the cause of justice. Possibly, without being aware of it, the other victims may be in some way witnesses to it, and he believes they may be suborned by the threat of disclosure, or their testimony invalidated by their own ruin.” He looked at Pitt steadily, the question in his eyes. His features were mild, sensitive, but there was an acute intelligence in him which burned through, and only a foolish man would mistake his quiet voice, his outward gentleness, for any weakness of courage or intent.
“I’ve not found any connection between all the victims we know of,” Pitt explained. “They do not seem to have any common interest or background. They have only the slightest acquaintance, as all London of a certain social level has. There are a limited number of gentlemen’s clubs, the museum, the National Geographic Society, the theater, the opera, the races, the same round of social events. Even so, they do not have any interest in common I can find, or any specific acquaintance that does not equally include a thousand others.”
“And no one has yet been asked for money?” Theloneus said.
“I am not certain.” Pitt thought of Cadell. “It is possible Cadell of the Foreign Office may have.” He told him of Parthenope Tannifer’s information, and his own visit to Cadell, and his denial.
Theloneus remained silent for several moments, turning it over in his mind.
Outside the light was fading. The lawn was already in shadow, and there was a flush of gold across the sky.
“I cannot help feeling that it is more than money,” Vespasia interrupted the silence. “Money could more easily be extracted by slow and reasonable threats, and a means of payment made more obvious. The pattern does not seem to be right.”
Pitt turned in his chair to look at her. Her face was very grave in the slanting light, which was gentler