Paragon Walk - Anne Perry [71]
“Who!”
“I—oh, Emily, you must swear before God you will say nothing—swear!”
“Why?”
“Because,” she swallowed hard, her body shivering, her eyes enormous, “I—I think it was Monsieur Alaric, but— but I cannot be sure. You must swear, Emily! If you accuse him, and you are wrong, we shall both be in terrible danger. Remember Fanny! I shall swear I know nothing!”
Eight
PITT WAS CALLED, of course, and he left home immediately in the same cab that had brought the message, but by the time he reached Paragon Walk, Selena was dressed in a discreet gown of Emily’s and sitting on the big sofa in the withdrawing room. She was now much more composed. Her face was flushed, her hands white and knotted in her lap, but she told him quite coolly what had happened.
She had been returning from a brief visit to Grace Dilbridge, hurrying a little to be home before dark, when she had been attacked from behind by a man of above average height and quite phenomenal strength. She had been thrown to the ground on the grass by the rose bed, as near as she could judge. The next part was too appalling, and surely Pitt, as a delicate man, would not expect her to describe it? Sufficient to say she had been violated! By whom she did not know. She had not seen his face, nor could she describe anything else about him, except his enormous strength and the fierceness of his animal behavior.
He questioned her as to anything at all she might have noticed without realizing it: his clothing, was it of good texture or harsh; did he have a shirt beneath his jacket, white or dark? Were his hands rough?
She considered for only a moment.
“Oh,” she said, with a little flutter of surprise. “Yes, you are right! His clothes were good. He must have been a gentleman. I recall white shirt cuffs. And his hands were smooth, but”—she lowered her eyes—“very strong!”
He pressed her further, but she could tell him nothing more. He had not spoken, and presently she grew distressed and became unable to say anything more.
He was obliged to give up and fall back on the ordinary routine chasing of details. In a long and exhausting night, he and Forbes questioned every man on the Walk, obliging them to leave their beds angry and frightened. As previously, everyone could account in a perfectly reasonable way for his whereabouts, but none had complete proof that they could not have been outside for those few, vital moments.
Afton Nash had been in his study, but it opened onto the garden and, there was no reason why he could not have slipped out without being seen. Jessamyn Nash had been playing the piano and could not say whether Diggory was in the room all evening or not. Freddie Dilbridge had been alone in his garden room; he had said that he was considering some decorating changes. Grace was not with him. Hallam Cayley and Paul Alaric lived alone. The only bright aspect was that George had been in town, and it really did seem wildly improbable that he could have returned unseen to the Walk.
All the servants were questioned, and all the answers compared. A few had been occupied in activities they would have preferred to keep secret; there were three separate affairs and a card game where money of quite a high order had changed hands. Possibly there would be dismissals in the morning! But most either could account for themselves or were precisely where one would expect them to be.
At the end of it all, in a still, warm dawn, eyes gritting with sleep, his throat dry, Pitt knew nothing more of any worth.
It was two days after that that Pitt at last received his answer from Paris regarding Paul Alaric. He stood in the middle of the police station with it in his hands, more confused than ever. The Paris police could find no trace of him and apologized for the delay in their reply, explaining that they had sent to every major center in France inquiring, but still they could find no definite news. There were, of course, one or two families of that name, but none of their members fitted the description as to age, appearance, or anything