Bethlehem Road - Anne Perry [4]
She paled so markedly he was afraid for a moment she might collapse, but she drew in her breath and let it out very slowly, managing to retain her composure.
“Perhaps you should sit down?” he suggested. He held out his hand, but she ignored it and made her way to the couch, indicating that he be seated as well. Her fists were clenched and shaking where she held them in her lap, to hide them from him, and perhaps from herself.
“Pray proceed,” she instructed him.
He felt her pain and was powerless to do anything but add to it.
“It appears that Sir Lockwood was walking home after a late sitting of the House of Commons,” he continued. “When he reached the south end of Westminster Bridge he was attacked by someone with either a knife or a razor. He sustained only one injury, in the neck, but it was fatal. If it can be of any comfort to you, he will have felt only the briefest instant’s pain. It was extremely rapid.”
“He was robbed?” She spoke only to maintain the show of composure she was fighting so hard to keep.
“No, it would appear not—unless he carried something we don’t know of. He still had his money, watch and chain, and cuff links. Of course, the thief may have been interrupted before he could take anything. But that does not seem likely.”
“Why—” Her voice broke; she swallowed. “Why not?”
Pitt hesitated.
“Why not?” she repeated.
She would have to know; if he did not tell her, someone else would, even if she refused to read the newspapers. By tomorrow it would be all over London. He did not know whether to look at her or away, but to avoid her eyes seemed cowardly.
“He was propped up against a lamppost and tied to it by his neck scarf. No one who was interrupted would have had time to do such a thing.”
She stared at him speechlessly.
He pressed on because he had no choice. “I must ask you, ma’am, if Sir Lockwood had received any threats that you were aware of. Had he any rivals in office, or business that might have wished him harm? This may have been done by a lunatic, but it’s possible that it was someone who knew him.”
“No!” The denial was instinctive, and Pitt had expected it. No one wished to think such an atrocity could be anything but random fate, an accident of mischance in time and place.
“Did he often walk home after a late sitting?”
She collected herself with difficulty. He could see from her eyes that her inner vision was on the bridge in the darkness, imagining the horrific act. “Yes—yes, if the weather was pleasant. It takes only a few minutes. It is well lit—and—”
“Yes, I know, I walked it myself. So many people might well have expected that sooner or later he would do so.”
“I suppose they might, but only a madman would ...”
“Jealousy,” Pitt said, “fear, greed can strip away the normal restraints and leave naked something that is not unlike a kind of madness.”
She made no reply.
“Is there anyone you would like me to inform?” he asked gently. “Any other relatives? If we could save you distress ...”
“No—no thank you. I have already had Huggins call my brothers.” Her face tightened, a strange, bleak, wounded look. “And Mr. Barclay Hamilton—my husband’s son by his first marriage.”
“Call ... ?”
She blinked, then realized the meaning of his question. “Yes, we have one of those telephones. I don’t care for it much myself. I think it is a little uncivil to be speaking to people when you cannot see their faces. I prefer to write if a visit is not possible. But Sir Lockwood finds—found it convenient,” she corrected herself.
“Did he keep any business papers here in the house?”
“Yes, in the library. I cannot see that they would be of any use to you. There is nothing of a confidential nature. He did not bring those home.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite certain. He told me so on several occasions. He was Parliamentary Private Secretary to the Home Secretary, you know. He knew how to be discreet.”
At that moment there was a noise in the hallway. The front