Bedford Square - Anne Perry [111]
“But you have knowledge of it, real knowledge, from having been there?” she pressed.
“Of course, but I cannot think it is of any use to present-day explorers and financiers.” He frowned. “Do you think this has anything to do with Africa?”
“Thomas does … at least he holds it as a possibility. Great-Aunt Vespasia believes it is a very powerful conspiracy, and great profit for someone lies at the root of it.”
They were passing other flower beds now which were brilliant with color and perfume. The drone of bees was audible above the swish of skirts and a faint murmur of conversation.
“That seems likely,” he answered.
“Any other offices?” she asked.
“I was president of a society promoting young artists, but my term finished last year.” His voice emphasized the triviality of it. “Other than that, newly being a member of a group within the Jessop Club that raises finances for an orphanage. I cannot imagine anyone desiring to take my place in that. It is hardly exclusive anyway. I believe anyone who wished to join it would be welcomed.”
“It doesn’t sound like the sort of thing one would commit blackmail to achieve,” she agreed.
They walked in silence for a hundred yards or so, across the pathway which circled the gardens and out into the main part of Regents Park. The sun was growing hotter and the breeze had dropped. Somewhere in the distance a band was playing.
“I don’t think the fact that the body is that of Slingsby, and not Cole, has made any difference to the police’s believing I could have been responsible for his death,” he said at length. “I suppose he could have been running errands for the blackmailer as easily as anyone else. You say he was a thief?”
“Yes … from Shoreditch, nowhere near Bedford Square,” she said quickly “He was killed in Shoreditch, by his accomplice. Thomas knows it had nothing to do with you at all.”
“Then why is his sergeant still making enquiries about me?”
“To learn what the blackmailer wants,” she said with conviction. “It must be some influence you have, some power or information. What have you in common with the other victims?”
He smiled bleakly, a flash of hard humor. “Since I don’t know who they are, I cannot even guess.”
“Oh …” She was taken aback. “Yes … of course. They are a banker, a diplomat, Sir Guy Stanley of course you know …” She saw the wince of pity in his face but went on. “A judge …” Should she mention Cornwallis or not? Pitt might prefer she did not, but the situation was too serious for secrets that were largely a matter of saving embarrassment. “And an assistant commissioner of police.”
He looked at her. “Cornwallis,” he said softly. “I don’t expect you to answer that … of course. I’m sorry. He’s a very decent man.”
“You know him well?”
“No, very slightly. Simply members of the same club … two clubs, actually. Always thought him a good fellow, very straightforward.” Again he lapsed into silence for several yards. “I knew Guy Stanley too. Not well, but I liked him.”
“You are speaking of him in the past.…”
His face tightened. “So I am. I’m sorry. That is inexcusable. I’ve been thinking about him a lot since that news broke. Poor devil.” He shivered a little and hunched his shoulders, knotting the muscles as if he were cold in spite of the sun. “I called on him. Wanted to tell him … I don’t know … perhaps only what you came to me to say, that I still regarded him as my friend. I don’t think him guilty of that charge, but I have no idea if he believed me.”
A dog scampered across their path carrying a stick in its mouth.
He stared straight ahead. “Perhaps I should have had the courage to tell him I was a victim of the same blackmail, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell even him what it accused me of. I do not admire myself for that. I wish now that I had. Then he might have known I believed him. But I suppose if I were honest, I was afraid he would not believe me.” He swung around to face