Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [54]
Carswell’s amazement might have been comic in any other circumstances.
“Owed him money? That is preposterous! I owe no one money, Mr. Pitt. But were I to be in financial difficulties I should not go to a usurer in Clerkenwell, but to my bankers to tide me over until circumstances improved.” He frowned as the absurdity of the thought became even more apparent to him. “But anyway, should that occur, and I assure you it has not, I have many personal possessions which I would dispose of, and I would do, before falling into the clutches of such a person. I have had far too much experience of tragic cases of men in debt to usury through my court to allow myself into such a desperate pass.”
It did not seem to occur to him that Pitt would doubt him. Perhaps it was too easily proved for him to imagine anyone would tell anything but the truth. Of course he did not know that Pitt had been to his home and knew for himself that he had much he could have realized money on, had he the need, but his very lack of pressing the point made Pitt think it the more likely he felt no guilt in the matter. Even now he stared wide-eyed and amused more than angry at the suggestion, and there was no fear in him, no tension in his body, no shadow in his eyes.
“He must have had my name for some other reason,” Carswell went on with a shrug of his shoulders. “My calling means that my name is known to various people of unsavory character and dubious occupation. Perhaps one of his clients passed through my court?”
“Very possible,” Pitt agreed. “But his book stated quite specifically that you owed him a large amount of money. The sum was written out, and the date at which you borrowed it, at what rate of interest, and when the loan was due. It was not simply a casual reference.”
Carswell drew his brows down. “How very peculiar. I assure you, Mr. Pitt, it is quite untrue. I have never borrowed money in my life.” His otherwise pleasant voice grew a trifle sharper. “I have never required to. My situation is more than comfortable, which I could prove to you, had I the mind to, but I prefer to keep my financial affairs confidential, and I see no reason why I should break that custom because you have come across a moneylender with a malicious sense of amusement.”
He leaned back a little and looked very directly at Pitt.
“Go back and tell Mr. Weems that I do not appreciate having my name taken lightly, and that he would be well advised to be truthful in future, or it will go ill with him. One can be prosecuted for willfully making mischief with another man’s reputation.”
“You have never met Mr. Weems?”
“I have not, sir.” His tone grew sharper; his patience was thinning and he no longer felt anxious. “I thought I had made that plain! Now if that is all you have to say, I would ask you to allow me the remainder of my respite from court in peace so I may collect my thoughts and take some refreshment.”
Pitt looked at him carefully, but he could see nothing in Carswell’s face whatever but the good-natured irritation any man might feel at such a liberty both with his name and his time.
“Mr. Weems is dead,” he said quietly. “He was murdered a week ago.”
“Oh.” Carswell was obviously taken aback, but still there seemed no fear in him. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to speak lightly of any man in his extremity. But I am afraid I still cannot help you. I do not know him. Nor can I think of any reason why he should have my name in his papers. It seems to me extremely mischievous.” He frowned, a flicker of anxiety returning to his face. “Is there some conspiracy, Mr. Pitt? You mentioned that people may be lying. You asked me where I was, and now you say this man Weems has been murdered. Did your suspect claim to have been in my company at the time?”
Pitt smiled, a small, rather bleak gesture. “I too would prefer to reserve some of my information, sir,” he said as courteously as was possible with such a statement. “Thank you for sparing me your time in the middle of the day. I will find my own way