Defend and Betray - Anne Perry [67]
“No sir, nor the general, sir—I swear to God!”
“Then what did you do?”
“I went as far as the top o’ the stairs and looked for John, sir. I knew that was about the time ’e’d be fillin’ the coal buckets.”
“Did you see him?”
“No. I reckon I were too late. I ’ad to ’ang around cos of all the people comin’ and goin’. I ’ad ter wait for the master ter go down again.”
“You saw Mr. Furnival go down again?”
“Yes sir.”
“When you were at the top of the stairs, looking for John—think very carefully, you may have to swear to this in court, before a judge, so tell the truth, as you know it …”
She gulped. “Yes sir?”
“Did you look down at the hallway below you?”
“Yes sir. I were looking for John.”
“To come from the back of the house?”
“Yes sir—with the coal buckets.”
“Was the suit of armor standing where it usually does?”
“I think so.”
“It wasn’t knocked over?”
“No—o’ course it weren’t, or I’d ’ave seen it. It’d be right between me and the corridor to the back.”
“Then where did you go, after waiting for John and realizing you were too late?”
“Back upstairs again.”
He saw the flicker in her eyes, barely discernible, just a tremor.
“Tell me the truth: did you pass anyone?”
Her eyes were downcast, the blush came again. “I heard someone comin’, I don’t know who. I didn’t want to be caught there, so I went into Mrs. Pole’s room to see if she needed anything. I was goin’ ter say I thought I’d ’eard ’er call out, if anyone asked me.”
“And the people passed, going along the passage to the front stairs?”
“Yes sir.”
“When was that?”
“I dunno, sir. God help me, I don’t! I swear it!”
“That’s all right, I believe you.” Alexandra and the general, minutes before she killed him.
“Did you hear anything?”
“No sir.”
“You didn’t hear voices?”
“No sir.”
“Or the suit of armor crashing over?”
“No sir. The green room is a long way from the top o’ the stairs, sir.” She did not bother to swear—it was easily verifiable.
“Thank you,” he said honestly.
So only Alexandra had the opportunity after all. It was murder.
“You’ve been a great help.” He forced the words out. “A very great help. That’s all—you can go.” And Alexandra was guilty. Louisa and Maxim had already gone up and come down again, and the general was alive.
“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.” And she turned on her heel and fled.
5
Oliver Rathbone awaited the arrival of Monk with some hope, in spite of his reason telling him that it was extremely unlikely he had been able to find any worthwhile evidence that it was not after all Alexandra Carlyon who had killed the general. He shared Monk’s contempt for Runcorn personally, but he had a considerable respect for the police in general, and had found that when they brought a case to trial, they were seldom fundamentally in error. But he did hope that Monk might have turned up a stronger and more sympathetic motive than jealousy. And if he were honest, there was a lingering corner in his mind which cherished a vague idea that it might indeed have been someone else—although how it would be any better had it been Sabella, he had no idea, except that so far Sabella was not his client.
As well as Monk, he had invited Hester Latterly. He had hesitated before doing so. She had no official part in the case, nor indeed had she had in any other case. But she had opportunities for observation of the Carlyon family that neither he nor Monk possessed. And it had been she who had brought him the case in the first place and enlisted his help. She was owed some information as to the conclusion—if indeed there was a conclusion. Monk had sent him a message that he had incontrovertible evidence which he must share, so it was unquestionably a decisive point.
Apart from that, he felt a wish that she should be included, and he chose not to examine the cause of it. Therefore at ten minutes before eight on the evening of May 14, he was awaiting their arrival with uncharacteristic nervousness. He was sure he was concealing it perfectly, and yet it was there, once or twice a flutter in his stomach, a very slight tightening of his throat, and several