The steward withdrew, closing the door behind him. There was a bell to summon him should either of them wish for anything.
Narraway grasped Quixwood’s hand for a moment, then sat down. “Sympathy hardly seems enough,” he agreed. “Whatever one says, it still sounds as if you have no idea what the person is suffering and that all you want to do is discharge your duty.”
“So are you here to tell me that this is the worst, and that time will heal the pain?” Quixwood said wryly.
Narraway raised his eyebrows. “It would seem a little redundant.”
“Yes. And it’s a lie anyway, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Narraway admitted. “I hope not. But I can’t imagine you want to hear that now. Though, I’m afraid you probably aren’t going to like what I have come to say either. Nevertheless I am going to say it.”
Quixwood looked surprised. “What, for heaven’s sake?”
“Have you heard anything further from Inspector Knox?”
Quixwood shrugged. “No, not beyond a polite message to say that he is pursuing every piece of evidence he can find. But I had assumed as much.” He leaned forward earnestly. “Tell me, Narraway, what was your impression of him? Please be honest. I need the truth, something I can rely on so I’ll stop lying awake wondering what is being kept from me, albeit with the best motives. Can you understand that?”
“Yes,” Narraway replied without hesitation. “Left to imagination we suffer not one ill but all of them.”
Quixwood searched Narraway’s face feature by feature. “Do you do that too? Have you ever lost anyone to something so … so vile, so bestial?” he asked finally.
Narraway made a tiny gesture of denial. “You know, at least by title, what my job has been. Do you think I have never experienced disillusion, horror, and then a sense of total helplessness? But this is nothing to do with my situation, Quixwood; it’s about you and your loss.”
Quixwood lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid remark. I didn’t mean to be offensive. I feel so inadequate. Everything is slipping out of control and I can’t stop it.”
Narraway felt an overwhelming pity for the man.
“I think Knox is a good man, both personally and at his job. He’ll find whatever there is that anyone can know.” He said it with certainty.
“But you’ll still help him?” Quixwood asked quickly.
“As long as you wish me to. But I come here to warn you that we might discover details you would prefer not to learn. All facts are open to different interpretations, and your wife is not here to explain anything.” Was he being so delicate as to be incomprehensible?
Quixwood frowned. “You don’t need to tiptoe around it. You are trying to warn me that I may find out things about Catherine I would prefer not to know? Of course. I’m not entirely stupid or blind. I loved Catherine very much, but she was a complicated woman. She made friends with people I never would have. She tended to see good in them, or at least some value, that I didn’t.” He looked away. “She was always seeking something. I never knew what.
“I want justice for her,” Quixwood continued with sudden vehemence. “She deserves that, even if I learn a few things that perhaps are not comfortable for me. I didn’t save her from this. I wasn’t there. Allow me at least to do what I can now. I am not so squeamish or self-regarding that I need to hide from the truth.”
“I’m sorry,” Narraway apologized sincerely. “I meant that when they have sufficient evidence to charge the man, whoever he is, don’t look beyond that. Leave the details to Knox. Don’t press him to tell you more than will be made public at the trial anyway.”
“The trial …” Quixwood’s face tightened and his hands, resting easily on his lap till this point, now clenched. “I admit I hadn’t thought of that. Will they need to say any more than that she was killed?”
“I don’t know. I imagine the man will put up a defense.”
“Surely they won’t allow—”
“If they find him guilty he may be hanged,” Narraway pointed out. “He must be allowed to fight for his life.”
Quixwood looked down at the floor. “Do you think … Catherine fought for her life?”
Narraway said nothing to that. Quixwood would know his wife’s courage better than he. “I’ll do everything I can,” Narraway promised again. “To hang a man is a sickening thing, but this