Farriers' Lane - Anne Perry [5]
He sniffed. “I am extremely sorry for your loss, and regret profoundly I could not prevent it, but it was too late—far too late. My card.” He produced one like a conjurer and presented it to Livesey. “Good day, sir—Mr. Pitt!” And with that he stood to attention smartly, then bustled out and closed the door behind him, leaving Pitt and Livesey alone with the body of Samuel Stafford.
Livesey looked very grave, his skin pale, his body tired and yet tense, broad shoulders sagging a little, his head forward, the dim lights strong on his thick hair. Slowly he put his hand in his trouser pocket and pulled out a slim chased-silver hip flask. He held it out to Pitt.
“This is Stafford’s,” he said grimly, meeting Pitt’s eyes. “I saw him drink from it just after the end of the interval. It is a hideous thought, but there may be something in it which caused his illness. Perhaps you should take it and have it examined—even if only to exclude it.”
“Poison?” Pitt asked gravely. He looked down at Stafford. The more he considered the course of events he had observed, the less absurd did Livesey’s words seem. “Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, of course. You are quite right. It must at least be considered, even if only to prove it was not so. Thank you.”
He took the flask and looked at it, turning it over in his hands. It was very slim, very expensive, chased in silver and engraved with Samuel Stafford’s name and the date of its having been given to him, February 28, 1884; a recent gift, over five and a half years ago. It was a beautiful thing to be a vehicle of death. “I’ll have it examined, of course,” he went on. “In the meanwhile perhaps we had better find out what we can about Mr. Stafford’s evening and precisely what happened.”
“Of course,” Livesey agreed. “And arrange for the body to be taken away discreetly. I shall have to explain to Mrs. Stafford why it cannot go to his home until it has been examined for the cause of death. How very distressing for her! The whole business is most grieving. Is there any lock to this door?”
Pitt turned around and looked at it.
“No, only an ordinary latch. I’ll wait here until you can inform the management and have a constable sent. We cannot leave it open.”
“No, naturally not. I’ll go now.” And without waiting any further Livesey went out and disappeared, leaving Pitt alone just as the curtain fell to a long and enthusiastic round of applause.
When Charlotte left the box with Juniper Stafford she met Adolphus Pryce almost immediately, returning with a goblet of water held out in front of him. He looked extremely agitated and his dark eyes gazed at Juniper with something that, were it not ridiculous to think it, Charlotte would have taken for fear.
“My dear—Mrs. Stafford,” he said jerkily. “Is there anything at all I can do to be of service to you? Your coachman has been told and he will bring your carriage to the front the moment you wish it. How is Mr. Stafford?”
“I don’t know,” Juniper answered in a voice that caught in her throat. “He … looked … very ill! It was so—sudden!”
“I’m so sorry,” Adolphus said again. “I had no idea he was in poor health—none at all.” He held out the goblet of water.
Juniper’s eyes met his on a long, painful look. She took the goblet with both hands, the light catching on her rings. Her gorgeous dress now seemed ridiculously out of place. “No—of course not,” she said hastily. “Neither—neither had I! That is what is so absurd.” Her voice rose to a high, desperate pitch and broke off. She forced herself to drink a sip of the water.
Adolphus stared at her. Charlotte might not have been there at all for any awareness