Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [79]
“No it wasn’t!” Welling shouted. “Maybe it was the old man? There was an old man who accosted him several times in the street. He seemed to know him, and I saw them arguing. It was pretty fierce, but Magnus wouldn’t say who he was, or what it was about.”
“Old man?” Pitt demanded. “Describe him.”
Welling’s eyes widened. “You think he could have killed Magnus?” His face lit with hope. “Why would he? It was just a quarrel. Where would he get the gun? He was far too old to be an anarchist.”
Pitt smiled in spite of himself. “How old?”
“I don’t know. Sixty, or more? He was tall and thin. He had white hair.”
“And they quarreled?”
“Yes.”
“What was his manner like?”
Welling froze, understanding in his eyes. “Gentleman,” he said softly. “He wasn’t dressed like one, but his voice…”
“His father?” Pitt asked, wishing it were possible for Welling to deny it. He could not help thinking of his own son, and far in the future wondering how he would feel were Daniel to espouse some extremist politics that turned him towards crime. What would he do to try to save him from what he saw as wrong? How would he comfort Charlotte? How much would he blame himself for whatever had gone wrong? It was easy to put himself in Landsborough’s place.
Or was it? Had he been seeking to protect his son, or the political system he believed in himself? Or even the honor of his family, with all the comforts and privileges that gave him. His son would bring disgrace upon it?
That was a hideous thought, but honesty compelled him at least to consider it.
Welling looked at him. “Maybe. Magnus never said anything about it. But that old man wasn’t the only one. There was a younger man too, well set up.”
Pitt was puzzled. “And his voice?”
“No idea. He never spoke, that I knew of.”
“A rival anarchist?”
“Looked like a servant to me, sort of discreet but there,” Welling replied. Then his candor vanished. “I’m telling you nothing about any of us. Anarchists have that much loyalty.”
“So you have,” Pitt said with admiration in his voice. “It looks as if you are prepared to hang for each other.” He saw Welling’s skin pale. Perhaps he was more afraid than Carmody had been. Pitt continued. “You must be very sure that your ideals are the same. Which makes me wonder why one of you killed Magnus, and he did it from hiding.”
There was a sneer on Welling’s lips. “You can’t hang me for shooting Magnus. There’s no way even you can make it seem as if I did it. I was in the room when you got there, and nowhere near the door he was shot from. Everyone heard the man escape. Your own police heard him come down the back stairs, and let him go.” His voice wavered as the realization came that they could lie, even if only to cover the fact that they had made such an error. He gulped. It was clear in his eyes that he believed Pitt would do that, and the rest of them also. “I wouldn’t have killed him! You know that!”
“Yes, I do,” Pitt agreed. “At least not personally. But you might have connived at it. You are keen enough to protect whoever did, so it’s reasonable to suppose you are allies, or even that you paid him….” He saw the horror in Welling’s eyes, and in that moment knew his innocence. “But I was actually referring to the policeman in the street who was shot,” he finished.
“He wasn’t…dead…” Welling’s uncertainty was naked in his face.
Pitt refused the temptation to imply that he was. “No, but that was lucky. You still tried to kill him.”
“I…I…” Welling’s voice died away. There was no argument that mattered.
Pitt waited while he considered it. Imprisonment would be harder than Welling would have any idea of, but there was a finality about the rope.
“Are you a religious man?” Pitt asked suddenly.
Welling was startled. “What?”
“Are you a religious man?” Pitt repeated.
The sneer came back to Welling’s face, but it was more out of bravado than confidence. “You don’t have to believe in God to have a morality,” he said bitterly. “The Church has got the biggest hypocrites of the lot! Have you any idea how much they own? How many of them preach one thing, and do