Shoulder the Sky_ A Novel - Anne Perry [114]
It twisted inside Joseph that it should be Chetwin, for his father’s sake, but it had to be someone he had known, or at least had known him. He knew Matthew had even feared it was Shearing himself. Joseph had been afraid it was Aidan Thyer. There was no answer that would be painless, and after Cullingford’s death, there was a new bitterness to it.
Matthew stood up and poured himself a generous glass of whisky. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever prove that. But I’ll be happy to see Chetwin swing high just for Mother and Father.” He drank the glassful in one draft. “Do you want some?”
“No.” He looked at Matthew with anxiety. He seemed to have drunk the whisky with unusual ease. A few months ago he would have sipped it, made it last the evening.
Matthew turned back to look at him, the glass still in his hand. He frowned. “Exactly what did she tell Cullingford, Joe? How could he find the Peacemaker in a couple of days when we haven’t in a year?”
“What’s the connection between Chetwin and the woman who spoke to Sebastian in the pub the day before he killed Mother and Father?” Joseph asked.
“I’ve no idea. Could be anything: relatives, lover, disciple, possibly just a paid messenger, a mercenary. If we get him, she won’t matter.”
“That’s how Cullingford trailed him, I think.” Joseph tried to remember exactly what Judith had said. She had been certain it was her fault, and he thought it was not hysteria but a deep and terrible knowledge. “There was a photograph of Prentice in his mother’s home that Judith saw when she was there, taking Cullingford’s condolences, as it were,” he explained. “Prentice was with a young woman who answered pretty closely to the description of the woman Hannah says was seen with Sebastian the day before the murders. If it was the same woman, perhaps Cullingford knew who she was, and knew her connection to the Peacemaker.”
“Then go to Mrs. Prentice tomorrow and look at the photograph!” Matthew said urgently. “I can’t, I have to go on the early train to Portsmouth in time to get on board the troopship. Look at the picture, and for God’s sake, Joe, do nothing! Just remember what the woman looks like, and get out.” He finished the whisky, pulling a face as if he disliked the taste of it. His voice was hoarse, fear in his eyes, and more emotion than he could control. “I don’t want to come back from Gallipoli and find you dead, too.” He tried to smile. “Apart from anything else, what would I tell Judith? Just go and tell Mrs. Prentice that you were the man who brought her son back, and buried him. Say something nice about him. . . .”
“Matthew!” Joseph exclaimed. “I understand! I’ll just look at all the photographs of Prentice, then I’ll come back here. I may go home for a few days, see Hannah. . . .” He saw Matthew’s face fill with alarm. “And I won’t go asking questions in any pubs! I swear!”
He was prevented from any further persuasion by the telephone.
Matthew stood up to answer it. He listened in silence for several moments, his body rigid, his hand holding the mouthpiece shaking a little, then he said “Yes, sir,” and replaced it on the hook. “That was Shearing. The Germans have sunk the Lusitania,” he said with a gasp. “Over eleven hundred people drowned, including Americans. I’m . . . I’m sorry, Joe, but I’ve got to go in to the office. Washington can’t overlook this! It could turn the war!”
Joseph was stunned. “The Lusitania! I thought that was a passenger liner! How could that happen? Where?”
“The Irish Sea. It is a passenger liner, and I don’t know how it could happen, just that it did.”
“What about Chetwin . . . and Gallipoli?”
“I can’t go. Can you?”
“Me?” Joseph was startled.
Matthew’s face was white. “If you don’t go to Gallipoli, and I can’t, and Mynott’s killed before he can give us the proof, then the Peacemaker goes