Midnight at Marble Arch - By Anne Perry Page 0,112
knows Rhodes was behind this bloody silly adventure. Pardon my—”
“For heaven’s sake, Hector, I’ve heard the word before,” Vespasia said impatiently. “Jameson was administrator general for Matabeleland, so of course he was tied up with Rhodes too. This idiotic escapade must have pulled troops out of Matabeleland and left it vulnerable.”
“Naturally,” he agreed, going down the steps, matching his pace to hers. “That is almost certainly why the Matabele revolted in March. Don’t know the casualties yet, but it’ll be into the hundreds.”
“I can’t imagine it will stop there,” she said quietly. “What a tragedy. But I need to know if many people will have taken serious financial loss. Do you know?”
“There can be no question about it at all,” he answered. “Only I don’t know who, or how much.”
“To judge from his face, Pelham Forsbrook will be one of them.”
They reached the bottom of the steps and turned left along the footpath, now clear of the crowd. “Do you think he believed the raid would succeed? If it had, would there have been a profit? I mean, one worth the risk?”
He smiled. “Not as it turns out, but could there have been? Yes, of course. If they’d taken the Transvaal, with its diamonds and gold? Unimaginable wealth.”
“Do you know Rawdon Quixwood?” There was no time to be wasted in approaching the subject obliquely. She must have something to tell Narraway before it was too late.
“Slightly,” Hector replied. “Poor devil’s rather out of things at the moment. What a nightmare.” His face was creased with pity. “Can’t even imagine it. I hear the wretched man who did it is being tried right now. I hope they hang him.” He said it with a sudden surge of feeling.
“Providing, of course, that he is guilty.” Vespasia could not help putting that in, even though it was irrelevant. It surprised her. She was usually able to hold back her emotions more effectively.
He was startled. “Do you doubt it?” he said, his eyes wide.
“I don’t know.” She kept on walking, but slowly. She did not want to discuss the subject. She did not want Hector Manning to know the real purpose of her attendance at Jameson’s trial. “Probably they are perfectly right. Poor Quixwood—I don’t really know what would be the most painful.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Hector sounded confused. “Surely he must want the man convicted?”
“If he’s guilty, of course,” she agreed. “But if it was he, then it also seems as if he was having an affair with Catherine Quixwood. That can hardly be what anyone would want to have happen at all, let alone be made public news.”
“Yes, I see. Of course.” He too was walking very slowly now. “He loses, whatever the verdict. God help him.”
“Did he lose money in this miserable Jameson business as well, do you suppose?” she asked as artlessly as she could.
He stopped completely now, looking at her with a mixture of puzzlement and concern. “What makes you think so?” he asked, frowning.
“There is a suggestion that Catherine was very afraid that he had,” she answered truthfully, or at least without telling any direct untruth.
“Really? And you mean she was already looking for someone else, in case he did? What a—” He stopped himself in time before using language he would afterward be ashamed of.
“No, I don’t think so.” She tried not to sound too firm, or as if she might actually know anything. “It seemed to be rather more a concern that she might be able to give him advice to prevent it.”
“Bit too late for that!” he dismissed it out of hand. “Any good advice should have been before this trial and whatever judgment they reach!”
“But do you suppose Quixwood invested in Africa?” she pursued.
“Thought about it, then didn’t, I heard. Could be nonsense, but Quixwood is pretty astute.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, actually, I am,” he said reluctantly. “But that’s confidential. He took a better look at it, and could see the pitfalls.”
“But he didn’t tell Pelham Forsbrook,” she added.
“I think that’s clear from the look on Forsbrook’s face, no. But, of course, he could have told him, and Forsbrook might’ve just thought he knew better and ignored the advice. Well, he’ll pay for it now, poor devil.”
“Indeed,” Vespasia said quietly. She stopped as they reached her carriage. “Thank you so much, Hector. I have found it one of the most interesting afternoons I have spent in a long time. It is most kind of you, and a great pleasure to see you again.”