Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [123]
Kydd picked it up with one hand, stroking it absentmindedly. “The brandy’s over there.” He pointed to a cupboard on the wall. “Let me give Mite something to eat first. She’s been alone all day.” He took a small piece of meat out of his pocket and tore it into pieces. The kitten snatched them from him almost before he had finished the task, purring so loudly now she sounded as if she rattled.
Pitt opened the cupboard and found the brandy. There were several glasses and cups. He chose two and poured mean portions into them, aware that there was not much there. He drank his in one gulp, and put the other on the small table for Kydd.
“Who were they?” he asked.
“On the barge?” Kydd put the kitten back on the chair and took his brandy. “River thieves, probably. What were you looking for, for God’s sake?”
“How did you know I was going to be there?” Pitt continued.
Mite sharpened her claws, then climbed slowly up Kydd’s leg and back and settled on his shoulder. He winced, but did not put her off.
“I didn’t, but I knew Voisey was waiting for someone. It was an educated guess,” he replied.
“You’ve been following me?”
Kydd looked very serious. In the light his face was high-cheekboned, blue-eyed. “I want to know who killed Magnus. I have to know it wasn’t one of us. If it was, I’ll execute him myself.”
It was becoming clearer. “You were part of Magnus’s group,” Pitt said. “You are the leader who has taken over.”
Kydd was unimpressed. “Who killed Magnus?” he repeated. “Don’t you know yet? Someone betrayed him. Was it his father?”
“His father?”
“He came after him, several times. Tried to persuade him to go back to the establishment and give up his beliefs.” Kydd had a savage amusement in his face, his voice was edged with pain as well as anger. Absentmindedly he put his hand up and stroked the little animal still perched on his shoulder. “Mite was Magnus’s,” he said irrelevantly. “He rescued her…or him. Actually I have no idea which it is. Hard to tell with kittens.”
It was a sudden act of humanity, a gentleness that gave Magnus Landsborough a dimension infinitely larger than nameless idealism. Pitt found himself choked with fury that he should have been killed simply to provoke a public outrage and create the climate for a piece of monstrous legislation.
“No, it wasn’t his father,” he said harshly. “All he wanted was to change Magnus’s mind. It was his cousin, Piers Denoon. That’s who I was looking for on the barge, to arrest him before he fled the country. Easy to go downriver from here and across the Channel.”
“Piers?” Kydd was incredulous. “What for? That makes no sense. I don’t believe it.” His eyes were bright and hard.
“Because he raised money for you?” Pitt asked.
“If you knew that, then you’ll know why I don’t believe it. Why would he kill Magnus?” Kydd unhooked Mite from his shoulder and sat down on the chair.
“For the same reason he did everything else to do with anarchy,” Pitt replied. “Because he was being blackmailed. He couldn’t afford to refuse, or he’d have gone to prison, where I doubt he’d have survived.”
“We’d have helped him. As you pointed out, it’s not hard to get across the Channel to France, or even Portugal.”
“For anarchy, perhaps. Would you for rape?”
Kydd was stunned. “Rape!” he repeated. “Rape?”
“About three years ago. An ordinary girl. Mistook what she was, I think. But it was violent and nasty, and could have been made to sound even worse. Girl who could have been the sister or daughter of the kind of man he’d meet in prison.”
Kydd’s face showed his bleak understanding of what that would mean, and perhaps, momentarily, a bright shard of pity. Then it was gone.
“What are you going