The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [38]
“Don’t stand there staring like a fool!” she snapped. “What do you want?”
His smile vanished.
“You seem very disturbed, Miss Ellison. Has something further happened to distress you? An event, a suspicion, something you remembered?” His light, intelligent eyes were on her face, waiting.
“You appear to suspect our butler,” she replied icily. “Which is naturally distressing to me, both because you are blaming someone in my home, and no doubt you will arrest him and put him in prison, and because, since I’m perfectly sure he didn’t do it, whoever did is still out in the streets. I would have thought that such a situation would be enough to distress any person of the slightest sensibility.”
“You leap to conclusions with the greatest of mental athleticism, Miss Ellison,” he smiled. “To begin with, we frequently arrest people, but we take them to court; we do not put them in prison. You might feel sure he is not guilty, and I am inclined to agree with you, but neither you nor I has the right to dismiss anyone from consideration until something is proved or disproved regarding their involvement in the affair. And to conclude, you are wrong in assuming that because I am still looking at Maddock, I have ceased to look elsewhere.”
“I do not wish for a lecture on police procedure, Mr. Pitt.” She could see his point, even that he was right, and it did nothing to help her temper.
“I thought it might be reassuring.”
“What is it you want, Mr. Pitt?”
“The night that Lily was killed, when was the last time you saw Maddock before he went to look for her?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“What did you do that evening?”
“I read. What can that possibly have to do with it?”
“Oh?” His eyebrows rose with interest. He smiled. “What did you read?”
She could feel herself colour with annoyance because her father would have disapproved of her books as something that was not becoming for a lady to wish to know about.
“That is not your concern, Mr. Pitt.”
Her answer seemed to amuse him. It suddenly occurred to her that he might have thought it was a romance, or old love letters.
“I was reading a book on warfare in the Crimea,” she said angrily.
His eyes widened in surprise.
“An unusual interest for a lady.”
“Possibly. What has it to do with Lily, which I’m told is your job here?”
“I take it you chose that opportunity because your father does not approve of your interest in such bloody and unfeminine subjects?”
“That is none of your concern either.”
“So you read alone; you did not call in Maddock or Dora to fetch you any refreshment, or alter the gas, or lock the doors?”
“I didn’t wish for any refreshment, and I’m quite capable of turning the gas up or down myself, or locking the doors.”
“Then you didn’t see Maddock at all?”
At last she realized what he was seeking. She was annoyed with herself for not having seen it before.
“No.”
“So he could have been out any time during the evening, as far as you know?”
“Mrs. Dunphy said he spoke to her. He only went out when Lily was late home, and—and he became worried.”
“So he says. But Mrs. Dunphy was alone in the kitchen. He could actually have gone out earlier.”
“No, he couldn’t. If I had called for anything I should have noticed his absence.”
“But you were reading a book your father did not approve of.” He was looking at her closely. His eyes were frank, as if there were no wall between them.
“He didn’t know that!” But even as she said it the sickening thought came that Maddock probably had known it. She had taken the book from her father’s study. Maddock knew the books well enough to spot which one was missing, and he knew her. She turned to face Pitt.
He merely smiled. “However,” he went on, dismissing the book with a wave of his hand. Really, he was a most untidy creature, so different from Dominic. He looked like a wading bird flapping its wings. “I can think of no reason why he should harbour any feelings against Miss Abernathy.” His voice lifted. “Was