The Silent Cry Page 0,63

relationship with Runcorn. There were many occasions when he saw a side of him he almost liked, at least a side he could understand and feel for. His aspirations to better himself were such as any man might have, most particularly one from a very ordinary background, a good-looking man whose education was unremarkable, but where intelligence and ability were greater than his opportunities would allow. He had chosen the police as a career where avenues were open for him to exercise his natural gifts, and he had done so with great success. He was not a gentleman born, nor had he the daring and the confidence to bluff his way, as Monk had.

He lacked the grace, the quick-witted ness or the model from whom to learn. Evan thought that very possibly he had received little encouragement from whatever family he possessed. They might see him as being ashamed of his roots, and resent him accordingly.

And he had never married. There must be a story to that. Evan wondered if it were financial. Many men felt they could not afford a home fit for a wife, and the almost certain family which would follow.

Or had it been emotional, a woman who had refused him, or perhaps who had died young, and he had not loved again? Probably Evan would never know, but the possibilities lent a greater humanity to a man whose temper and whose weakness he saw, as well as his competence and his strengths.

He stood on the kerb waiting for the traffic to ease so he could cross the corner at Grosvenor Street. A newspaper seller was calling out headlines about the controversial book published last year by Charles Darwin. A leading bishop had expressed horror and condemnation.

Liberal and progressive thinkers disagreed with him and labelled him reactionary and diehard. The murder in St. Giles was forgotten. There was a brazier on the corner and a man selling roasted chestnuts, and warming his hands at the fire.

There was congestion at the junction of Eccleston Street and Belgrave Road. Two dray men were in a heated discussion. Evan could hear their raised voices from where he stood. The traffic all ground to a halt, and he went across the street, dodging fresh horse droppings, pungent in the cold air. He was a short block from Ebury Street.

The worst of Runcorn, the times he descended into spite, were when Monk's name, or by implication his achievements, were mentioned. There was a shadow between them far deeper than the few clashes Evan had witnessed, or the final quarrel when Monk had left, simultaneously with Runcorn dismissing him.

Monk no longer understood it. It was gone with all the rest of his past, returning only in glimpses and unconnected fragments, leaving him to guess, and fear the rest. Evan would almost certainly never know, but it was there in his mind when he saw the weakness and the vulnerability in Runcorn.

He reached Ebury Street and knocked on the door of number thirty-four.

He was met by the maid, Janet, who smiled at him a slight uncertainty, as if she liked him, but knew his errand only too painfully. She showed him into the morning room and asked him to wait while she discovered if Mrs. Duff would see him.

However, when the door opened it was Hester who came in quickly, closing it behind her. She was wearing blue, her hair dressed a little less severely than usual, and she looked flushed, but with vitality rather than fever or any embarrassment. He had always liked her, but now he thought perhaps she was also prettier than he had realised before, softer, more openly feminine. That was another thing he wondered about Monk, why he quarrelled with her so much? He would be the last man on earth to admit it, but perhaps that was exactly why, he could not afford, he did not dare, to see her as she really was!

"Good morning, Hester," he said, informally, echoing his thoughts rather than his usual manners.

"Good morning, John," she answered with a smile, a touch of amusement in it as well as friendship.

"How is Mr. Duff?"

The laughter vanished from her eyes, and even the light in her face seemed to fade.

"He is very poorly still. He has the most dreadful nightmares. He had another again last night. I don't even know how to help him."

"There is no question he saw what happened to his father," he said regretfully. "If only he could tell us!"

"He can't!" she said