Bedford Square - Anne Perry [46]
“Poor soul,” Parthenope said with profound feeling. Her face was flushed, her eyes direct. “What can we do, Mr. Pitt?”
He was desperate to offer some answer which would comfort her and make her feel she was participating in the battle. But he turned to Tannifer himself as he spoke.
“There are certain things which will define this person,” he said thoughtfully. “He must know of the earlier matter you mentioned … how public was it?”
“Not at all.” Tannifer’s face brightened. “I see what you mean. It must be limited by those who either knew for them selves or had heard of it from those who did. That does circumscribe it considerably. But you said two things. What is the other?”
“He must want something from you which will profit him. If you think what you can do—other than merely pay him money, of course—then you may learn something about who it is.”
Tannifer frowned. “Do you not think it will be money, when he has felt the exactness of his power well enough?”
“It may be,” Pitt replied. “Are you a wealthy man, with funds available?”
Tannifer hesitated. “I—I could not pay a large amount in any haste. Even if I were to sell property, such a thing takes time—”
“Influence!” Parthenope put in quickly, her expression eager. “Of course. That would make the most excellent sense.” She looked from Tannifer to Pitt. “Has this other man influence, Superintendent?”
“More than money, yes, Mrs. Tannifer. He has great influence in certain areas.”
A bitter smile touched Tannifer’s mouth. “I assume you are not referring to Brandon Balantyne but to someone else? Balantyne has no influence now.” He shook his head minutely, an oddly hopeless little gesture. “This is a filthy business, Superintendent. I pray most profoundly that you can help us.”
Parthenope looked at him earnestly also, but she did not add anything to her husband’s words.
“If you would make such a list, Mr. Tannifer?” Pitt prompted.
“Of course. I shall send it around to you at Bow Street the moment it is accomplished,” Tannifer promised. He held out his hand. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Pitt. I rest my trust in you. We both do. Please convey my thanks to Cornwallis for sparing you so instantly.”
Pitt left oppressed with foreboding and a sense that behind the threatening letters to both Cornwallis and Tannifer was a far greater power than he had at first imagined. There was nothing clumsy or hasty in it, not a greedy man simply taking a chance at extorting money from a mistake he had observed and seen an opportunity on which to capitalize. It was a more carefully laid plan, possibly over a period of time, to obtain power by the deliberate corruption of men of influence.
And in spite of what Tannifer had said about Balantyne’s having now retired, Pitt could not help wondering if he, too, was the victim of blackmail. He was certain Balantyne had been deeply afraid of something, and it was connected with the pinchbeck snuffbox found in Albert Cole’s pocket. How had Cole come by it? In the answer to that would lie a great deal of the answer to his death.
Pitt returned to Bedford Square, determined to speak to Balantyne again and see if he could learn from him anything further, possibly even ask him outright if he had received a letter. But when he enquired, the footman told him the General had gone out quite early and had not said at what hour he would return. He did not expect it to be before dinner that night.
Pitt thanked him and went to see what he could learn about Sigmund Tannifer in the City, his reputation and standing as a banker, and if possible, what particular or delicate influence he might have upon the finances of others, and if there was any known connection with Cornwallis, or even Balantyne.
Charlotte had no intention whatever of abandoning