Southampton Row - Anne Perry [49]
“And the other man, who was he seeking?” Pitt asked.
“I don’t recall anyone in particular.” Kingsley frowned as he said it, as if realizing only now how it puzzled him.
“But he came at least three times that you know of?” Pitt insisted.
“Yes. He was deeply in earnest,” Kingsley assured him, looking up now, no more emotion to guard. The man had stirred nothing in him, no specific compassion. “He asked some very telling questions and would not rest until they were answered,” he explained. “I did ask Miss Lamont on one occasion if she thought he were a skeptic, a doubter, but she appeared to know his reasons and was quite undisturbed by them. I . . . I find that . . .” He stopped.
“Odd?” Tellman supplied.
“I was going to say ‘comforting,’ ” Kingsley answered.
He did not explain himself, but Pitt understood. Maude Lamont must have been very confident in her skill, whatever its nature, to be unthreatened by the presence of a skeptic at her séances. But then she had apparently not been aware of the hatred which had ended in her death.
“This man did not ask to contact anyone by name?” he persisted.
“Several,” Kingsley contradicted him. “But none with particular eagerness. It seemed almost as if he were picking names at random.”
“Any subject that he sought?” Pitt would not give up so easily.
“None that I was aware.”
Pitt looked at him gravely. “We don’t know who he is, General Kingsley. He may be the one who murdered Maude Lamont.” He saw Kingsley wince and the lost look return to his eyes. “What did you gather from his voice, his manner, anything at all? His clothes, his deportment! Was he a well-educated man? What were his beliefs in anything, or his opinions? What would you guess his background to be, his income, his place in society? If he has an occupation, what is it? Did he ever mention any family, wife, or where he lives? Did he come far to attend the séances? Anything at all?”
Again, Kingsley waited for so long in thought that Pitt was afraid he was not going to reply. Then he began to speak slowly. “His accent suggested an excellent education. The little he said inclined more towards the humanities than any science. His clothes, so much as I could see them or thought to look, were discreet, dark. His manner was nervous, but I attributed that to the occasion. I cannot remember any specific opinions, but I had the feeling that he was more conservative than I.”
Pitt thought of the newspaper article. “Are you not conservative, General Kingsley?”
“No, sir.” Now Kingsley looked up directly at Pitt, meeting his eyes. “I have served in the army with all manner of men, and I would dearly like to see a fairer treatment of the ranks than exists at the present moment. I think when one has faced hardship and even death side by side with a man, one sees the worth of him far more clearly than his worldly opportunities may make apparent.”
From the candor in his face disbelief was impossible. And yet what he said was deeply at odds with what he had written to four separate newspapers. Pitt was more convinced than ever that Kingsley was involved with Voisey and the election, but whether willingly or not he had no idea. Nor did he know if with sufficient pressure he might have contributed to Maude Lamont’s death.
He considered mentioning the articles against Serracold, and telling him that the woman at the séances was Serracold’s wife. But he could think of nothing to gain by it now, and once told he could never achieve that possible advantage of surprise.
So he thanked Kingsley and rose to take his leave with Tellman behind him, morose and unsatisfied.
“What do you make of that?” Tellman demanded as soon as they were out on the footpath in the sun. “What makes a man like that go to a . . . a . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know how she did it, but