Seven Dials Page 0,14

much better if you did not," Pitt responded, caught off balance that Ryerson should even make such a suggestion. "It might do more harm than good," he added. "Would you please tell me what happened that night, sir, as far as you know?"

Ryerson invited Pitt to sit down in one of the large, smooth, leather-covered chairs, then sat in one opposite, but not at ease, instead leaning a little forward, his face a mask of concentration. He offered no hospitality, not out of discourtesy, but it obviously had not occurred to him. His mind was consumed in the present problem. He made no attempt at dissimulation.

"I was at very late meetings that night. I had intended to be at Miss Zakhari's house by two in the morning, but I was late. It was closer to three."

"How did you come, sir?" Pitt interrupted.

"By hansom. I stopped on the Edgware Road and walked a couple of streets."

"Did you see anyone leaving Connaught Square, either on foot or in a coach or carriage?" Pitt asked.

"I don't recall seeing anyone. But I wasn't thinking of it. They could have gone in any direction."

"You arrived at Eden Lodge," Pitt prompted. "At which entrance?"

Ryerson flushed very faintly. "The mews. I have a key to the scullery door."

Pitt tried to keep his expression from reflecting any of his thoughts. Moral judgments would be unhelpful, and perhaps he had little right to make them. Curiously enough, he did not wish to. Ryerson did not fit any of the assumptions Pitt had made before meeting him, and he was obliged to start again, feeling his way through his own conflicting emotions.

"Did you go in through the scullery?" he asked.

"Yes." Ryerson's eyes were troubled by the memory. "But I was standing in the kitchen, just up the step, when I heard a noise in the garden, and I went out again. Almost immediately I ran into Miss Zakhari, who was in a state of extreme distress." He breathed in and out slowly. "She told me a man had been shot and was lying dead in the garden. I asked her who he was and if she knew what had happened. She told me he was a Lieutenant Lovat whom she had known briefly in Alexandria several years ago. He had admired her then..." He hesitated briefly over the choice of words, then went on, trusting Pitt to put his own interpretation on it. "And now wished to rekindle the friendship. She had refused, but he was reluctant to accept that answer."

"I see. What did you do?" Pitt kept his voice neutral.

"I asked her to show me, and followed her to where he was lying on the ground, half under the laurel bushes. I had thought perhaps he was not actually dead. I hoped she had found him knocked senseless, and perhaps leaped to a hasty conclusion. However, when I knelt down to look at him, it was quite apparent that she was correct. He had been shot at fairly close range, through the chest, and was unquestionably dead."

"Did you see the gun?"

Ryerson's eyes did not waver, but it obviously cost him an effort.

"Yes. It was lying on the ground beside him. It was Ayesha's gun. I knew it immediately, because I had seen it before. I knew she owned it, for protection."

"Against whom?"

"I don't know. I had asked her, but she would not tell me."

"Could it have been this Lieutenant Lovat?" Pitt suggested. "Had he threatened her?"

Ryerson's face was tight, his eyes miserable. He hesitated before answering. "I believe not," he said at last.

"Did you ask her what had happened?"

"Of course! She said she did not know. She had heard the shot, and realized it was very close by. She had been in her upstairs sitting room, waiting for me, awake and fully dressed. She went downstairs to see what had happened, if anyone were hurt, and found Lovat lying on the ground and the gun beside him."

It was a strange story, and one Pitt found almost impossible to believe, and yet as he looked at Ryerson, he was sure that either he himself believed it or he was the most superb actor Pitt had ever seen. He was clear, calm and without any histrionics. There was a candor to him that, if it was art, then it was also genius. It confused Pitt, and he felt wrong-footed, off balance because of it.

"So you saw the dead man," he said. "And you knew from Miss Zakhari who he was. Did