The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [121]
“Of course there is,” Emily rejoined. “You have nothing to do with Captain Winthrop or Mr. Arledge, or the bus conductor, and we weren’t even in Hyde Park.”
“That is what I was thinking.” Jack stared at his plate. Beyond the door came the sound of footsteps as one of the servants crossed the hall.
“What do you mean?” Emily demanded. “You are not making a great deal of sense! Have you sent for the police? I still think you should have sent for them last night. I know they wouldn’t have caught anyone by then, but they should still have been told as soon as possible.”
“I want to think …” Before he could complete his sentence the parlormaid came in with hot tea and fresh toast for Emily, and inquired what Jack would like, offering him smoked haddock, eggs, sausages, bacon and potatoes, or chops. He thanked her and chose the fish.
“Think? What about?” Emily demanded as soon as the maid had gone. “The Headsman attacked you, for goodness sake! What is there to think about?” She leaned forward across the table, peering at him. “Jack? Are you ill? Did he injure you?”
He pulled a face of self-mockery, but his amusement was hollow.
“No, of course not. I am a trifle bruised, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am quite sure.” He smiled, but his face was still very pale. “I want to think about it before I decide what to do….”
“I don’t know what you mean, what to do! You must report it to the police—preferably to Thomas. He has to know.” She leaned on her elbow, staring at him.
“Thomas, of course,” he agreed. “But I don’t think anyone else.”
“I don’t understand. Why not anyone else? It is hardly a private thing to be attacked in the street!” Absentmindedly she poured the tea for both of them and passed his across.
“I think it might be better if I didn’t mention it,” he replied, accepting the tea and taking a slice of toast.
“What? What on earth do you mean?” Her voice rose in incredulity. “No one is going to blame you for it! In fact quite the contrary, they will be highly sympathetic.”
“To me, perhaps,” he said thoughtfully. “Although there may be those who will wonder if I had some secret connection with the murdered men, and no doubt speculation would be rife. My enemies would—”
“You cannot keep silent in case someone speaks ill of you!” she said quickly. “Those that are of that bent will do so anyway. You cannot run away from it.”
“I wasn’t thinking of that,” he argued. “I was thinking of Thomas.”
“But it might help him,” she protested reasonably. “The more information he gets, the better chance he will have of finding the Headsman.”
The parlormaid returned with the haddock, inquired if there were anything else, and on being told there was not, took her leave.
“I’m not sure it was the Headsman,” Jack said as soon as the door was closed.
Emily was stunned. “What do you mean? I saw him. He had an ax! Jack—I saw him!”
“I know that,” he said gently. “You saw a man with an ax, but that doesn’t mean he was the Headsman. As you just said, I have no connection with Winthrop or Arledge or the bus conductor, nor was I near the park.” He took a mouthful of the fish. “And he attacked me when I was in company with someone else. It is not the Headsman’s pattern.”
“He has no pattern!” Emily said vehemently, ignoring the food.
He looked at her very seriously. “I shall tell Thomas, of course, but I don’t think I shall tell the local police. Can’t you imagine what the newspapers will say with another attack? It will play right into Uttley’s hands.”
“Oh.” She sat back in her chair, momentarily robbed of anger. “Yes, of course. I hadn’t thought of that. We must not give him anything at all. He would use it as another weapon, wouldn’t he?”
“I’ll send a message to Thomas.” Jack ignored the rest of his breakfast and rose, pushing his chair back.
The butler came in behind him, a bundle of newspapers over his arm. He looked very somber.