A Great Deliverance - By Elizabeth George Page 0,121

He could rise to the challenge. Then he could move right on to give Gillian a treat. No doubt that anaemic little husband of hers would be only too happy to give the reins over to a real man.

And weren't they both handling the little bitch with kid gloves! One couldn't really blame her ladyship for that approach. She didn't have all the facts on Gillian Teys. But what was Lynley's excuse? Since when did an accessory to murder get the red carpet treatment from CID?

"You're going to find Roberta very much changed, Gillian," he was saying.

Barbara listened to the words with incredulity. What was he doing? What was he talking about? Was he actually preparing her to see her sister when both of them knew damn well she'd seen her only three weeks ago when they'd killed William Teys?

"I understand," Gillian responded in a very small, nearly inaudible voice.

"She's been placed in the asylum as a temporary measure," Lynley continued gently.

"It's a question of mental competence arising out of her admission to the crime and her unwillingness to speak."

"How did she...Who...?" Gillian hesitated, then gave up the effort. She seemed to shrink into her seat.

"Your cousin Richard Gibson had her committed."

"Richard?" Her voice grew even smaller.

"Yes."

"I see."

No one spoke. Barbara waited impatiently for Lynley to begin questioning the woman, and she couldn't understand his obvious reluctance to do so.

What was he doing? He was making the kind of solicitous conversation that one generally made with the victim of a crime, not with its perpetrator!

Furtively, Barbara examined Gillian. Good God, she was manipulative, right to the bitter end. A few minutes in the bathroom last night and she had the whole lot of them right where she wanted. How long had she been trotting out that little routine?

Her eyes moved back to Lynley. Why had he brought her back on the case today? There could be only one reason, really: to put her in her place once and for all, to humiliate her with the knowledge that even an amateur like her sweet ladyship had more expertise than Havers the pig.

And then to condemn her, forever, to the street.

Well, the message was received, Inspector. Now all she longed for was a return to London and to uniform, leaving Lynley and his lady to sweep up the shards of the mess she had made.

She'd worn her hair in two long, blonde braids. That's why she looked so young that first night in Testament House. She spoke to no one, instead taking a quiet measure of the group, deciding whether they were worthy of her trust. The decision once made, she said only her name: Helen Graham, Nell Graham.

But hadn't he known from the first that it wasn't really her name? Perhaps the slight hesitation before her response when someone addressed her had betrayed her. Perhaps it was the wistful look in her eyes when she said it herself. Perhaps it was her tears when he first entered her body and whispered

Nell in the darkness. At any rate, hadn't he always known - somewhere in his heart - that it wasn't her name?

What had drawn him to her? At first, it was the childlike innocence with which she embraced the life at Testament House. She was so eager to learn, and then so passionately involved in the purpose of the community. After that it was her purity he so admired, the purity which allowed her to lead a new life, unaffected by personal animosities in a world where she had simply decided that such ugliness would never exist. Then it was her devotion to God - not the breast-beating, ostentatious piety of the religious reborn but a calm acceptance of a power greater than her own - that touched him. And last, it was her steadfast faith in his ability to do anything, her words of encouragement when he felt despair, her abiding love when he needed it most.

As I do now, Jonah Clarence thought.

In the last twelve hours he had looked deeply, unforgivingly, at his own behaviour and had come to see it for what it was: unremitting cowardice. He had left wife and home, running to an unknown destination, fleeing so that he wouldn't have to face what he was afraid to know.

Yet what was there to fear when Nell - whoever she was - could be nothing more nor less than the lovely creature who stood by his side, who listened, rapt, to his words, who held him in