Traitors Gate - Anne Perry [177]
“However,” Eustace went on, “Hathaway was present, but also not in the same room. He was apparently taken ill, and went to the cloakroom, from where he sent for a cab and was helped into it. He never went anywhere near the room where Sir Arthur was either. I am afraid it appears that none of your suspects can be guilty. I’m sorry.” Actually he was sorry, not for her, but because although it was a far more suitable answer, it was also an anticlimax.
“Well someone must be guilty,” she protested, raising her voice against the noise of the traffic.
“Then it cannot be any of them. Who else might it be?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Anyone.” She stopped, and since she was still clinging to his arm, he was pulled to a sudden halt also. A middle-aged lady on the arm of an elderly man looked at them with suspicion and disapproval. From her expression it was obvious she had supposed some domestic quarrel which no dutiful wife would have allowed to happen in public.
“Stop it!” Eustace hissed. “This is most unseemly. You are causing people to look at us.”
With a great effort Charlotte bit back the response that came to her lips.
“I’m sorry.” She proceeded to walk again. “We shall just have to go back and try harder.”
“Try harder to do what?” he said indignantly. “None of the people you mentioned could possibly have passed by Sir Arthur and put laudanum in his brandy. Not one of them was even in the same room.”
“Well where did the brandy come from?” She did not even think of giving up. “Perhaps they passed it on the way.”
“And poisoned it?” His eyes were round and full of disbelief. “How? Passing by and slipping something into it while it was on the steward’s tray? That would be ridiculous. No steward would permit it, and he would certainly remember it afterwards and testify to it. Besides, how would anyone know it was meant for Arthur Desmond?” He straightened his back and lifted his chin a little. “You are not very logical, my dear. It is a feminine weakness, I know. But your ideas are really not practical at all.”
Charlotte was very pink in the face. It did cross his mind to wonder for a moment if it was suppressed temper. Not very attractive in a woman, but not as uncommon a trait as he would have wished.
“No,” she agreed demurely, looking down at the pavement. “I cannot manage without your assistance. But if there is a flaw in the argument, I know you will find it, or a lie in anyone’s testimony, perhaps? You will go back, won’t you? We cannot allow injustice to triumph.”
“I really cannot think what else I could learn,” he protested.
“Exactly what happened, even more exactly than now. I shall be so very grateful.” There was a slight quaver in her voice, as of some intense emotion.
He was not certain what it was, but she really was a very handsome woman. And it would be immensely satisfying to place her in his debt. Then he would be able to face her without the almost intolerable embarrassment he felt now. It would wash out the hideous memory of the scene under the bed!
“Very well,” he conceded graciously. “If you are convinced it would be of service.”
“Oh I am, I am!” she assured him, stopping and turning around, ready to return the way they had come. “I am so obliged to you.”
“At your service, ma’am,” he said with considerable complacency.
Once inside the Morton Club again he had profound misgivings. There was nothing to find out. He began to feel exceedingly foolish as once more he approached Guyler.
“Yes sir?” Guyler said helpfully.
“Forgive me,” Eustace began, feeling the color flush up his cheeks. Really, this was too bad of Charlotte. And he was a fool to have agreed to it. “I fear I am being extremely tedious….”
“Not at all, sir. What can I do for you?”
“Is it not possible that Mr. Standish could have come through here that afternoon, after all?”
“I can make enquiries for you, sir, if you wish, but I think it most unlikely. Gentlemen don’t usually leave a game of billiards, sir.