not yet formed. I gathered it was merely a prospect that Joscelin intended to pursue."
Monk considered for a moment. If Grey were only forming a company, and perhaps persuading Dawlish to invest, then what had been his source of income up to that time?
"Thank you." He stood up slowly. "I understand. All the same, I should like to speak to Mr. Dawlish. He may well know something about Mr. Grey's finances. If he were contemplating entering business with him, it would be natural he should inquire."
"Yes, yes of course." She poked ineffectually at her hair. "Perhaps about six o'clock."
***
Evan's questioning of the half-dozen or so domestic servants yielded nothing except the picture of a very ordinary household, well run by a quiet, sad woman stricken with a grief she bore as bravely as she could, but of which they were all only too aware and each in their own way shared. The butler had a nephew who served as a foot soldier and had returned a cripple. Evan was suddenly sobered by the remembrance of so many other losses, so many people who had to struggle on without the notoriety, or the sympathy, of Joscelin Grey's family.
The sixteen-year-old between-stairs maid had lost an elder brother at Inkermann. They all recalled Major Grey, how charming he was, and that Miss Amanda was very taken with him. They had hoped he would return, and were horrified that he could be so terribly murdered right here in his home. They had an obvious duality of thought that confounded Evan-it shocked them that a gentleman should be so killed, and yet they viewed their own losses as things merely to be borne with quiet dignity.
He came away with an admiration for their stoicism, and an anger that they should accept the difference so easily. Then as he came through the green baize door back into the main hallway, the thought occurred to him that perhaps that was the only way of bearing it-anything else would be too destructive, and in the end only futile.
And he had learned little of Joscelin Grey that he had not already deduced from the other calls.
***
Dawlish was a stout, expensively dressed man with a high forehead and dark, clever eyes, but at present he was displeased at the prospect of speaking with the police, and appeared distinctly ill at ease. There was no reason to assume it was an unquiet conscience; to have the police at one's house, for any reason, was socially highly undesirable, and judging from the newness of the furniture and the rather formal photographs of the family-Mrs. Dawlish seated in imitation of the Queen-Mr. Dawlish was an ambitious man.
It transpired that he knew remarkably little about the business he had half committed himself to support. His involvement was with Joscelin Grey personally, and it was this which had caused him to promise funds, and the use of his good name. "Charming fellow," he said, half facing Monk as he stood by the parlor fire. "Hard when you're brought up in a family, part of it and all that, then the eldest brother marries and suddenly you're nobody." He shook his head grimly. "Dashed hard to make your way if you're not suited to the church, and invalided out of the army. Only thing really is to marry decently." He looked at Monk to see if he understood. "Don't know why young Joscelin didn't, certainly a handsome enough chap, and pleasing with women. Had all the charm, right words to say, and so on. Amanda thought the world of him." He coughed. "My daughter, you know. Poor girl was very distressed over his death. Dreadful thing! Quite appalling." He stared down at the embers and a sharp sadness filled his eyes and softened the lines around his mouth. "Such a decent man. Expect it in the Crimea, die for your country, and so on; but not this. Lost her first suitor at Sebastopol, poor girl; and of course her brother at Balaclava. That's where he met young Grey." He swallowed hard and looked up at Monk, as if to defy his emotions. "Damned good to him." He took a deep breath and fought to control a conflict of emotions that were obviously acutely painful. "Actually spoke to each other night before the battle. Like to think of that, someone we've met, with Edward the night before he was killed. Been a great source of-" He coughed again and was forced to look away, his eyes brimming.