Bedford Square - Anne Perry [45]
Both men rose to their feet.
“Parthenope, this is Superintendent Pitt, from Bow Street,” Tannifer introduced them. “He has come about this wretched letter.”
“I’m so glad,” she said quickly. Her voice was warm and a little husky. She looked at Pitt earnestly. “It is pure evil! Whoever wrote it does not even imagine it is true; he is simply using the threat of lies to hurt and to—to extort … I don’t know what. He doesn’t even say what he wants! How can we fight him?” She moved to stand closer beside her husband, and almost unconsciously she slid her arm into his. It was a casual gesture and yet intensely protective.
“First, behave as naturally as possible,” Pitt repeated, this time to Parthenope Tannifer. “But if anyone realizes you are anxious, give them some other cause to explain it, don’t fob them off with a denial they will not believe.”
“My wife’s brother is in India; Manipur, to be exact. The news from there is sufficient to worry anyone.…” He saw Pitt nod, and continued. “As you know, there was a palace coup in September last year. Our people decided that it constituted a rebellion, and in March of this year our man in Assam took four hundred Gurkhas and marched to Imphal, the capital of Manipur, to talk. They were promptly seized and killed.”
He furrowed his brow as if he could still hardly believe what he said next. “Apparently, there was no commanding officer of sufficient rank left, so the young widow of the political agent led the surviving British officers and the Gurkhas out of the city, through the jungle and up the mountains towards Assam. They were rescued by a troop of Gurkhas coming the other way.” He gave an abrupt little laugh. “I can always say I am worried about him. I should be believed.” He glanced at Parthenope, who indicated her agreement, her eyes alight with imagination and pride.
Pitt dragged his attention back from the extraordinary story of Manipur to the present, grim situation in London. A deep chill settled inside him that two prominent men were being threatened with a very particular form of public ruin, but no price was asked.
It also forced itself into his mind to wonder if General Balantyne might be a third victim of the same plan, but had been too afraid, or too ashamed, to speak of it. And of course the threat to him was far greater … there was a dead body on his doorstep which made the whole issue public and brought the police to investigate.
Was Albert Cole the blackmailer?
It seemed highly unlikely. The more Pitt considered it, the less did it seem credible. He picked up Tannifer’s letter and read it again. It was complex and literate, not the work of a private soldier turned peddler of bootlaces.
And yet he had had in his pocket Balantyne’s snuffbox, which, as it transpired, was not valuable, but still extremely beautiful, and possibly unique.
Both Tannifer and Parthenope were staring at him.
“Is there something of importance that you are not telling me, Superintendent?” Tannifer said with concern. “Your expression causes me considerable anxiety.”
Parthenope’s face was tight, her mouth pulled crooked with fear.
Pitt made an instant decision.
“You are not the only person to suffer from this man’s threats, Mr. Tannifer—” He stopped as he saw Tannifer’s amazement and something which could have been relief.
“This is monstrous!” Parthenope burst out, stiffening her body and removing her arm from Tannifer’s. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “Who else is … Oh! I’m sorry. What a stupid question. Of course you cannot tell us. At least I know you would not, because if you did it might mean you would tell others of our predicament.”
“No, Mrs. Tannifer,” Pitt agreed. “I would certainly not mention it without his specific permission. Like your husband, he is a man of dignity and honor whose reputation has never been questioned before. He is accused of the offense