Callander Square - Anne Perry [82]
Of course it would all blow over when the police either found out who the wretched girl was, which was unlikely, or gave up, which on the face of it was probably what would happen. Then another very unpleasant thought came to him. What did the police do if they could not solve a case? Did they give up? Or did they put it aside, but always keep it at the back of their minds: someone detailed to keep an ear to it? The possibility was frightening! What if they never gave up, if they kept at it, like an open wound, probing it every time it threatened to close over? That could be very nasty, a permanently ugly rumor never either exposed and lived down, nor yet laid to rest as false.
Good God! What could he do about Freddie then? The man, if he were cad enough, could keep coming back over and over again! A hundred pounds here, a social favor there, or a spot of financial advice under the counter, a gift of this or that—God in heaven, it could be never ending! It was monstrous!
The best thing for Reggie would be if this damned Pitt fellow found out who it was and cleared up the whole wretched business. Then Freddie could say what he liked. It would certainly damage Reggie’s reputation for a while, and Adelina would be pretty upset. But then their relationship was not so very close anyway: not a lot to lose, compared with permanent leeching by Freddie! And the very fact that as a doctor and a friend he had broken such a confidence would do Freddie himself a damn sight more damage. Who would trust the fellow after that? No, to tell the police, under pressure, was one thing, there could be a good excuse for that: but to spread it around, merely as gossip, that was unpardonable, and Freddie would be sure to know that.
No, quite definitely, if Pitt found out who it was, Reggie would be safe. He settled down deeper into the chair and stretched his legs out again. This really was an excellent fire. He rang for the footman, gave him instructions about the bank, and ordered more port. He would not have thought the two of them could have got through a whole bottle, but there it was, empty; so they must have. Still, a wretched experience like this called for a little fortification. Natural enough.
Thing was, must see what he could do to help this police fellow to get the matter solved, so everyone knew who was to blame, and thus who was not: and the police took themselves off back to the usual sort of crimes they were really employed to deal with.
He fell asleep, still wondering what he could do to help Pitt.
He woke late the following morning, as was his habit, rose, was dressed by his valet, and took a good breakfast of porridge, bacon, eggs, deviled kidneys, sausage, mushrooms, then several slices of toast, butter, and preserves, then of course a fresh pot of tea. He should have felt a great deal better after it: but he did not. In the gray, pedestrian light of morning, the more he thought about the likelihood of the police discovering the girl to blame, the less likely he considered it to be that they would meet with any success. The fellow Pitt was probably bright enough, he was certainly inquisitive; but where could he find proof? After all, it was all months ago now, even years! Could have been anybody! Some wretched girl even from the neighboring blocks! Did not have to be Callander Square at all! Now had the fools thought of that?
“Don’t be an ass! Calm yourself, Reggie. Of course they have. That is probably what they spent their time doing, when they were not here. And they were here quite a small part of the time, considering they quite probably worked from breakfast till dinner, five or six days a week. Yes, of course, they will have asked all over the place.” He began to feel better again, and spent a pleasant enough