Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [11]
Landsborough looked down at it. “Yes, that is my son’s ring. And I believe that is his hand. I would still like to see his face.”
“My lord…” Narraway started to protest, then changed his mind. He was being foolish. Without looking at the face it was not a full identification. He stood aside.
“Thank you,” Landsborough acknowledged the gesture. He picked up the sheet and looked in silence at the features—shattered on one side, almost peaceful on the other. Then he replaced the sheet. “That is my son,” he said in a whisper. His voice jerked, as if he had meant to speak aloud, but his body would not obey him. “Is there more you require of me, Mr. Narraway?”
“I’m sorry, sir. There is.” Narraway turned to lead the way out along the corridor, thanking the attendant briefly, and went outside into the warm air of the street.
“The anarchists must have had money to finance their arms,” he said as the traffic clattered past them. “Dynamite has to be paid for. If we could trace their purchases we might find the rest of them, before they blow up more people’s homes.” He spoke of the destruction deliberately, ignoring the wince of pain that tightened Landsborough’s face. “We need to find them,” he emphasized. “We need to know Mr. Landsborough’s associates, anything of his movements lately.”
“Yes, of course you do,” Landsborough agreed, blinking a little in the sun as if its light were suddenly harsher than before. “But I can’t help you. Magnus was seldom home. I was aware of his convictions—although I admit, not of their depth—but I did not know his friends.” He bit his lip. “And as for money, he had a small annuity, but it was not sufficient to buy arms, merely to feed and clothe himself. I paid the rent of a set of rooms for him, off Gordon Square. He wished to be independent.”
“I see.” Narraway was not certain of how entirely he believed Landsborough, but he was quite sure that it would be pointless to press the issue any further at the moment. “We will require to look at the rooms in Gordon Square, in case he left anything there which could lead us to them.”
“Naturally. I shall send my man to give you the address and my keys to it.” Landsborough straightened his shoulders. “If that is all, Mr. Narraway, I should like to return to my home. I must inform my wife of what has happened.”
Pitt returned to Long Spoon Lane with a sense of foreboding. It was still guarded by police and he was stopped by a constable, who took a moment to recognize him before snapping to attention.
Pitt did not blame him. He did not look like an officer at all, let alone a senior one. He was tall, and walked with the loose-limbed practical grace of a countryman who was accustomed to covering great distances over heath and woodland. His father had been a gamekeeper on a large estate, and as a boy Pitt had gone through the woods or over the heath with him at times. Even now, decades later, Pitt still tended to stuff his pockets full of objects that might one day be of use: handkerchiefs, odd bits of string, coins, sealing wax, a box of matches, pencil stubs, paper, a couple of bull’s-eye sweets in wrappers, two paper clips, a pipe cleaner, half a dozen keys, and odd buttons.
“How’s the man who was injured?” he asked.
“Oh, he’ll be all right, sir,” the constable assured him. “Bled a bit, but it’s nothing that won’t heal. He was lucky. You’ll be wanting to see the sergeant.”
“Yes. And I need to go back into the building and see the room where the young man was killed. Who was at the back stairs first?”
“I dunno, sir, but I’ll find out. Can you make your own way inside, or would you like someone to go with you?”
“I’ll make my own way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Pitt walked across the cobbled lane, in through the broken door, and up the stairs. It was only a matter of hours since he had come in here, his heart pounding. The shots were still ringing in his ears. Now it seemed oddly desolate, as if no one alive had been here for weeks. It was not that it had a sense of settled dust, or even the staleness of closed air, but a feeling as if whoever had