The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [52]
Grandmama drew breath to condemn his temerity, then considered his argument instead, and let it out without speaking.
Caroline looked at Edward, who was still silent, then at Charlotte. She was watching Pitt with surprise, and some respect.
Pitt looked back at Edward.
“Mr. Ellison, the name and address of your friend, if you please? I assure you, it is necessary. Also, as near as you know it, the exact time of your departure from his house?”
Again there was a moment’s silence. To Caroline it was an eternity, like waiting while you tear open a message which you know will be news of disaster.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what time I left,” Edward replied. “At the time, of course, I had no idea it would be of the least importance.”
“Possibly your friend will know,” Pitt seemed unperturbed.
“No,” Edward said quickly. “My friend—is ill. That is why I called. Er—he was already drifting to sleep when I left— that is why I departed when I did. I’m afraid we can neither of us be of any very precise assistance. I’m sorry.”
“But you did come home from the far end of Cater Street?” Pitt was not easily discouraged.
“I’ve already said so,” Edward was also regaining his composure.
“Did you see anyone else at all?”
“Not that I recall, but I was thinking of getting home, not of observing the street.”
“Naturally. But no doubt you would have noticed a man running, or two people struggling; or if you had heard a cry of alarm or any kind of scream?”
“Of course I would. If there was anything at all, it must have been relatively inconspicuous, a late traveller like myself, or something of that sort. Actually, I don’t remember anyone at all.”
“And the address?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The address from which you came?”
“I see no reason why that is relevant. My friend is ill, and in some distress. I would prefer you did not call on them. It would cause them considerable anxiety, and only increase their illness.”
“I see.” Pitt stood still. “All the same, I would like to know it. They just might remember the time.”
“What good would that do?”
“Establish at least one time at which the crime did not happen. By process of elimination we might pin it down very nicely.”
Without thinking, Caroline jumped in.
“That can easily be known.” She demanded Pitt’s attention. “He arrived here a few minutes after we did, less than five minutes. If you walk from here to Cater Street, you will have the time precisely.” She waited with heart lurching to see if he accepted it.
Pitt gave a small smile.
“Quite. Thank you.” He glanced at Charlotte, then inclined his head in a gesture of resignation. “I wish you good day.” He opened the door for himself and went out. They heard Maddock in the hall, and then the front door close also.
“Well!” Grandmama let out her breath. “What a vulgar young man.”
“Persistent,” Caroline said before thinking. “But not vulgar. If he were to be put off by equivocation he would never solve his cases.”
“I have never considered you a competent judge of vulgarity, Caroline,” Grandmama said with mounting anger. “But I am shocked that you can even entertain the possibility that Edward would know anything about a crime. You appear to doubt him!”
“Of course I don’t!” Caroline lied, her face flushing hotly. “I was speaking of the police, not myself. You cannot expect Mr. Pitt to take the same view as I!”
“I do not. But neither did I, until now, expect you to take the same view as Mr. Pitt!”
“She wasn’t, Grandmama,” Charlotte interrupted. “She was merely pointing out that—”
“Be silent, Charlotte,” Edward said crossly. “I forbid anyone to discuss the matter further. It is sordid and has no part in our life beyond the assistance we have already given. If you cannot control yourself, Charlotte, then you may retire to your room.”
Charlotte said nothing at all. Grandmama started off again to bemoan the general decline of good manners and the increase of immorality and crime.
Caroline sat staring at a rather ugly photograph of her wedding, and wondering with mounting fear why Edward would not tell Pitt where