Seven Dials - Anne Perry [14]
As Narraway had said, Ryerson was a large man, probably in his late fifties, but he moved with the grace of someone trained to physical activity and who took joy in it. There was no extra flesh on him, no signs of indulgence or ease. He had the innate confidence of one whose body does as he wishes it to. Now he looked anxious, a little tired, but still very much in command of his outward emotions.
“My footman tells me you have come on behalf of Victor Narraway.” He pronounced the name with a lack of emotion so complete Pitt instantly wondered if it was the result of deliberate effort. “May I ask why?”
“Yes, sir,” Pitt said gravely. He had already decided that candor was the only way to achieve his goal, if it was possible at all. One trick or attempt at deviousness which failed would destroy all trust. “The Egyptian embassy is aware that you were present at Eden Lodge when Mr. Edwin Lovat was shot, and they are demanding that you also are called to be accountable for your part in those events.”
Pitt expected smooth denial at first, and then perhaps bluster, anger as fear took hold. The ugliest possibility would be self-pity, and the plea to some kind of loyalty to extricate him from the embarrassment of a love affair which had turned sour. He dreaded the shame and the revulsion of it. His skin felt cold even at the thought of it. Was that why Narraway had refused to come himself? In case an old friend should become contemptible in front of him, and he would find it better for both of them if that did not happen? Then he would still be able to feign ignorance of that much at least.
But Ryerson’s reaction was none of these things. There was confusion in his face—fear, but not anger, and no bluster at all.
“I was there just after,” he corrected Pitt. “Although I have no idea how the Egyptian embassy would know that, unless Miss Zakhari told them.”
Pitt stared at him. There was no sense of injustice in his voice or his face. He did not seem to think of it as any kind of betrayal if she had done so. And yet, according to Narraway, she had not mentioned his name at all. In fact, she had had no opportunity of speaking to anyone except the police officers who had questioned her.
“No, sir, it was not Miss Zakhari,” Pitt replied. “She has spoken to no one since her arrest.”
“She should have someone to represent her,” Ryerson said immediately. “The embassy should do that—it would be more discreet than my doing so—but I will if necessary.”
“I think it would be much better if you did not,” Pitt responded, caught off balance that Ryerson should even make such a suggestion. “It might do more harm than good,” he added. “Would you please tell me what happened that night, sir, as far as you know?”
Ryerson invited Pitt to sit down in one of the large, smooth, leather-covered chairs, then sat in one opposite, but not at ease, instead leaning a little forward, his face a mask of concentration. He offered no hospitality, not out of discourtesy, but it obviously had not occurred to him. His mind was consumed in the present problem. He made no attempt at dissimulation.
“I was at very late meetings that night. I had intended to be at Miss Zakhari’s house by two in the morning, but I was late. It was closer to three.”
“How did you come, sir?” Pitt interrupted.
“By hansom. I stopped on the Edgware Road and walked a couple of streets.”
“Did you see anyone leaving Connaught Square, either on foot or in a coach or carriage?” Pitt asked.
“I don’t recall seeing anyone. But I wasn’t thinking of it. They could have gone in any direction.”
“You arrived at Eden Lodge,” Pitt prompted. “At which entrance?”
Ryerson flushed very faintly. “The mews. I have a key to the scullery door.”
Pitt tried to keep his expression from reflecting any of his thoughts. Moral judgments would be unhelpful, and perhaps he had little right to make them. Curiously enough, he did not wish to. Ryerson did not fit any of the assumptions Pitt had made before meeting him, and he was obliged to start again, feeling his way through his own conflicting emotions.
“Did you