Midnight at Marble Arch - By Anne Perry Page 0,142
invest in the British South Africa Company, with almost certain knowledge of the Jameson Raid, and that it would fail, and that reparations would be enormous. It was worth the risk because for him the worst that could happen would only be that the raid succeeded and Forsbrook made money. Even then, he could always try something else in the future.”
“Did he know of Neville Forsbrook’s situation with the prostitute?” Narraway asked.
Stoker came to attention. “Yes, sir. He was friendly with Sir Pelham Forsbrook at that time, and he helped get Neville out of the country. Still can’t find out exactly where the boy went, but he started out in Lisbon, then seems to have gone on by sea.”
Narraway was surprised. “Lisbon? Not Paris?”
“Apparently not. Paris might have been the first place anyone would have looked for him. It was a pretty nasty business,” Stoker replied. “And Quixwood had connections in Lisbon.”
Narraway nodded slightly. “Interesting. So unquestionably Quixwood knew of Neville Forsbrook’s nature. Isn’t there a way we can hang him?” he asked, looking up at Pitt.
“Only if we can prove he poisoned his wife intentionally,” Pitt replied. “In truth, I’d rather hang Forsbrook for raping her.”
“Why?” Stoker demanded. “Quixwood murdered her.”
“Because Forsbrook is as much a monster,” Pitt answered. “I want him not just for Catherine, but for Angeles and Alice and Pamela.”
“You can’t get him for Angeles,” Charlotte said miserably. “Quixwood swears he was with him, so unless we can prove he’s lying … they’re both protecting themselves by protecting each other!”
“That’s it!” Pitt sat upright with a jolt.
“What’s it?” Narraway was weary.
“That’s the way to catch them!” Pitt said urgently, turning slightly to face him. “It’s dangerous, very, but it might work.” He went on without being prompted, leaning forward a little, his voice anxious. “Quixwood doesn’t really need Neville anymore. But what if we could persuade Neville of that, tell him Quixwood is preparing to give him up now that Hythe’s conviction isn’t certain anymore and we are still desperately looking for the true attacker, in order to prove Hythe’s innocence!”
Narraway was staring at him. “And what? Neville would go after Quixwood to silence him?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Pitt said. “Persuade Neville that Quixwood now needs to protect himself, and he can only do it by giving Neville up.”
“Dangerous,” Narraway warned, but the light was back in his face and there was a keen edge to his voice. “Very dangerous.” He did not look at either Charlotte or Vespasia, or even at Stoker. “How would we do it? If you tell him yourself he’ll instantly suspect a trap.”
Pitt’s mind was leaping forward. “Crask,” he answered. “Elmo Crask. Neville would believe him; he is impartial, and doesn’t have anything to gain by lying. Can you think of a better way—or any other way at all, for that matter?”
“No, I can’t,” Narraway admitted. “But we must plan this very carefully indeed. We can’t afford to have Neville succeed in killing Quixwood.”
“Or the other way around,” Pitt said with a twist of his mouth. “If Quixwood kills Neville he can legally, and morally, claim self-defense, and still walk away, and there’d be nothing we could do to touch him.”
“Though his reputation would hardly be untouched, after the evidence in court,” Vespasia pointed out.
“Neither name was mentioned,” Narraway said, his face tight with anger. “And anyone who did name them could be sued for libel. Quixwood still has the vast weight of public sympathy.”
“If we do this right, we’ll get both of them,” Pitt answered.
“If we do this right, we’ll be damned lucky!” Narraway retorted with a shrug. “But let’s try.”
“Are you sure?” Vespasia asked cautiously. “If we lose it would be a disaster.”
“Of course it would,” he agreed. “But if we don’t try it’s a disaster for certain—and one of cowardice, because we’d be giving up, to avoid taking a risk.”
Vespasia smiled very, very slightly. “I thought you would say that.”
THE NEXT EVENING PITT and Narraway were together in Bryanston Square, waiting until Neville Forsbrook should appear. Stoker was in the Mews, just in case Neville left the house that way. Elmo Crask had already been and gone. They had agreed three men should be sufficient to follow Forsbrook, and they dared not trust anyone else with their plan, nor did they want to involve more men in something which was, at the very best, questionable.
They were in a hansom cab, slumped down so as to be all but invisible from the street. The cab driver was actually an agent from