Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [126]
‘Because I hoped to learn who was the man behind Gower before I told you,’ Pitt answered.
Croxdale’s face went white. ‘Behind . . . Gower?’ he said awkwardly.
‘I don’t yet know,’ Pitt admitted. ‘Not for certain. I never found evidence one way or the other whether Frobisher was the power behind a new socialist uprising, perhaps violent, or only a dilettante playing on the edge of the real plot.’
‘We don’t assume it is trivial,’ Croxdale said quickly. ‘If Gower . . . I still find it hard to credit . . . but if Gower murdered two people, and attempted to murder you also, then it is very real indeed.’ He bit his lip. ‘I assume from what you say that you did not tell Austwick this?’
‘No. I believe someone made it appear that Narraway was guilty of embezzlement in order to get him out of the way, discredit him so deeply that anything he said against them would be disbelieved.’
‘Who? Someone to do with Frobisher? Or Gower again?’
‘Neither Frobisher nor Gower had the ability,’ Pitt pointed out. ‘That has to be someone in Lisson Grove, someone with a considerable amount of power in order to have access to the details of Narraway’s banking arrangements.’
Croxdale was staring at him, his face drawn, cheeks flushed. ‘I see. Yes, of course you are right. Then this socialist plot seems very deep. Perhaps this Frobisher is as dangerous as you first thought, and poor West was killed to prevent you from learning the full extent of it. No doubt Gower kept you along with him when he went to France so you could be duped into believing Frobisher harmless, and sending that misinformation back to London.’ He smiled bleakly, just for an instant. ‘Thank God you were clever enough to see through it, and agile enough to survive his attack on you. You are the right man for this job, Pitt. Whatever else he may be guilty of, Narraway did well when he brought you into the Service.’
Pitt felt he should thank him for the compliment, and for his trust, but he wanted to argue and say how little he was really suited to it. He ended by inclining his head, thanking Croxdale briefly, and moving on to the more pressing problem of the present.
‘We need to know very urgently, sir, what information Gower himself may have passed back to London, and – more specifically – to whom. I don’t know who I can trust.’
‘No,’ Croxdale said thoughtfully. ‘No, neither do I. We need to look at this a great deal more closely, Pitt. Austwick has reported to me at least three times since Narraway left. I have the papers here. We need to go through all this information and you must tell me what you know to be accurate, or inaccurate, and what we still need to test. Some picture should emerge. I’m sorry, but this may very well require all night. I’ll have someone fetch us supper.’ He shook his head. ‘God, what a miserable business.’
There was no question of argument.
Croxdale had other notes, not only of what Austwick had reported to him, but, going back further, what Narraway also had written. It was curious looking at the different papers. Austwick’s writing was neat, his notes carefully thought out and finely presented. Narraway’s Pitt viewed with a jolt of familiarity, and a new sense of how alone he was in Narraway’s place. The writing was smaller, more flowing, as if it were casual, and yet there were fewer words. There was no hesitation. He had thought before he began, and there was no attempt to conceal the fact that he was giving Croxdale only the minimum. Was that an agreement between them, and Croxdale could read between the lines? Or had Narraway simply not bothered to conceal the fact that he was telling only part of what he knew?
Pitt studied Croxdale’s face, and did not know the answer.
They read them carefully. A servant brought in a tray of light toast and pâté, then cheese and finally a heavy fruit cake, along with brandy, which Pitt declined.
It was now totally dark outside. The wind was