"Hmm..." He bit his lip. "Be that as it may, did she ever mention a Mr. Geoffrey Taunton to you? Think carefully now. I need an exact, honest answer."
Hester controlled herself with an intense effort. She wanted to slap him. But this conversation would be worth it if she learned something, however small. She gazed back at him with wide eyes.
"What does he look like, Inspector?"
"It doesn't matter what he looks like, miss," he said irritably. "What I want to know is, did she mention him?"
"She had a photograph," Hester lied without compunction. At least it was a lie in essence. Prudence had had a photograph, certainly, but it was one of her father, and Hester knew that.
Jeavis's interest was quickened. "Did she, now. What was he like, the man in this photograph?"
This was no use. "Well-er..." She screwed up her face as if in a concentrated effort to find the right words.
"Come on, miss. You must have some idea!" Jeavis said urgently. "Was he coarse or refined? Handsome or homely? Was he clean-shaven, a mustache, whiskers, a beard? What was he like?"
"Oh he was fine-looking," she prevaricated, hoping he would forget his caution. "Sort of-well-it's hard to say..."
"Oh yes."
She was afraid if she did not give him a satisfactory answer soon he would lose interest. "She had it with her all the time."
Jeavis abandoned patience. "Was he tall, straight hair, regular features, smallish sort of mouth, light eyes, very level?"
"Yes! Yes, that's who he was, exactly," she said, affecting relief. "Is that him?"
"Never you mind. So she carried that with her, did she?
Sounds like she knew him pretty close. I suppose she got letters?"
"Oh yes, whenever the post came from England. But I didn't think Mr. Taunton lived in London."
"He didn't," he agreed. "But there are trains, and it's easy enough to come and go. Trip to Ealing only takes an hour or less. Easy enough to get in and out of the hospital. I'll have to have a good deal closer talk with Mr. Taunton." He shook his head darkly. "Nice-looking gentleman like that might have other ladies to set their caps at. Funny he chose to go on with her, even when she worked in a place like this and seemed set to continue with it."
"Love is funny, Inspector," Hester said tartly. "And while a great many people marry for other reasons, there are a few who insist on marrying for love. Perhaps Mr. Taunton was one of them?"
"You've got a very sharp tongue in your head, Miss Latterly," Jeavis said with a perceptive look at her. "Was Miss Barrymore like that too? Independent, and a bit waspish, was she?'
Hester was staring. It was not a pleasing description.
"Those would not have been my choice of words, Inspector, but essentially my meaning, yes. But I don't see how she could have been killed by a jealous woman. The sort of person who would have been in love with Mr. Taunton surely would not have the strength to strangle her. Prudence was tall, and not weak by any means. Wouldn't there have been a fight? And such a person would be marked as well, scratched or bruised at least?"
"Oh no," Jeavis denied quickly. "There wasn't a struggle. It must have been very quick. Just powerful hands on her throat." He made a quick, harsh gesture, like closing a double fist, and his lips tightened with revulsion. "And it was all over. She might have scratched a hand or so, or even once at the neck or face. But there was no blood in any of her fingernails, nor anything else, no other scratches or bruises on her. There was no fight. Whoever it was, she was not expecting it."
"Of course you are right, Inspector." Hester concealed her triumph beneath humility and downcast eyes. Did Monk know there was no fight? It would be something to tell him that he might not have learned for himself. She refused to think of the human meaning of it.
"If it was a woman," Jeavis went on, brows drawn down. "It was a strong woman, one with powerful hands, like a good horse rider perhaps. It certainly wasn't any fancy lady who never held anything bigger than a cake fork in her fingers. Mind, surprise counts for a lot. Brave, was she, Miss Barrymore?"
Suddenly it was real again, Prudence's death.
"Yes-yes she was brave," Hester said with a catch in her voice. She forced memories out of her mind: Prudence's face