The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [111]
Tellman looked from Farnsworth to Pitt and back again; he had only caught half of what had been said, and obviously did not comprehend the meaning. Bailey was still as amused as he dared to be at the vision of Winthrop and Carvell in the boat, the oars and the ax between them. He disliked Farnsworth and always had done. Le Grange was waiting for orders from someone and moved from one foot to the other in uncertainty.
Pitt knew precisely what Farnsworth was referring to. It was the Inner Circle again, this time torn in its loyalties. Micah Drummond’s words came back to his mind with added chill. But surely Farnsworth knew Uttley was a member himself? And Jack was not?
Or perhaps with all the secrecy, the different levels and rings, he did not? And even if he attacked, and drew on those loyal to him, perhaps he could not predict the outcome of such a test of strength. And far more dangerous, the trial of loyalty, the blooded knights against the tyros. Who else was bought by covenant, committed to a battle in which they had no interest and no gain but would be punished mortally if they backed the losing side?
Farnsworth was waiting, as if he thought even at this point Pitt might have changed his mind.
Pitt faced him blankly. “Perhaps not,” he said pleasantly, but with finality in his voice.
Farnsworth hesitated only a moment longer, then swung around and went out.
Bailey let his breath out in a sigh and le Grange relaxed visibly.
Tellman turned to Pitt.
“We can’t arrest Carvell yet, sir, but if we pushed a little harder we would get a damned sight more out of him. As Mr. Farnsworth says, there’s a connection somewhere, and I’ll swear he knows what it is, or he can guess.”
Le Grange looked attentive.
“What have you in mind?” Pitt asked very slowly.
Tellman’s chin came up. “He’s guilty of one crime, by his own admission. You can get several years for sodomy. He may not realize we can’t prove it. We can pursue him on that.” His lip curled very slightly in unspoken contempt. “Mr. Carvell isn’t the sort to take well to a term in somewhere like Pentonville or the Coldbath Fields.”
“That’s right, sir,” le Grange said hopefully.
Pitt ignored him. He looked at Tellman with dislike.
“You have no evidence.”
“He admitted it,” Tellman said reasonably.
“Not to you, Inspector.”
Tellman’s face hardened and he stood facing Pitt squarely. “Are you saying you would deny it, sir?”
Pitt smiled very slightly. “I should say nothing at all, Inspector. All he told me was that he loved Arledge. That may be interpreted as you please. The emotion is not a crime. I imagine Carvell will say precisely that, and have his lawyers sue you for harassment.”
“You’re too squeamish,” Tellman said, disgust written large in his face. “If you pander to these people you’ll never learn anything. They’ll run rings ’round you.”
Bailey coughed loudly.
Tellman ignored him, still staring at Pitt. “We can’t afford your delicate conscience if we want to catch this bastard who’s cutting people’s heads off and terrifying half of London. People daren’t go out after dark unless they’re in twos or threes. There are cartoons all over the place. He’s making a laughingstock of us. Doesn’t that bother you?” He looked at Pitt with something close to loathing. “Doesn’t it make you angry?”
Le Grange nodded his head up and down, his eyes on Tellman.
“That’s just what it sounds like,” Pitt replied coldly. “The reaction of anger—not of thought or judgment: the instinctive lashing out of someone who’s afraid for his own reputation and works with one eye over his shoulder to see what others think of him.”
“The ‘others’ pay our bloody wages!” Tellman said, still staring icily and undeviatingly at Pitt. Neither Bailey nor le Grange interested