an' o' course a cook... sir. Was yer wantin' ter speak ter anyone?"
"Do you have a girl with a deformed mouth?"
"A wot?"
"A twisted mouth, a funny lip?"
She looked puzzled. "No sir."
"Never mind. Thank you for answering me." It was foolish to have hoped. The woman at Buxton House had said the publican had got rid of the girls. It might not even be the same publican now. It was fifteen years ago.
The girl smiled and left and Monk began his meal.
"Yer really mean it, don't yer?" one of the men said in surprise. "You'll not find 'em now, yer know? They put people like that away inter places w'ere they can't upset folk... they'll be cleanin' up arter folk somewhere, if they're still alive. They wasn't only ugly, yer know; they was simple as well. I saw 'em w'en they was 'ere. There's summink about 'avin' yer face twisted as bothers folk more 'n if it were yer body or yer 'ands. One of 'em looked like she were sneerin' at yer, an the other like she was barin' 'er teeth. Couldn't 'elp it, o' course, but strangers don' know that."
Monk should have kept quiet. Instead he found himself asking, "Where might they be sent to, exactly?"
The man gulped down his ale. "ExacTy? Gawd knows! Any places as'd 'ave 'em, poor little things. Pity fer Sam. 'E loved them little girls."
There was only one more avenue Monk should try, then duty was satisfied.
"What about his widow? Do you know what happened to her?"
"Dolly Jackson? I dunno." He looked around the table. "D'you know, Ted? D'you know, Alf?"
Ted shrugged and picked up his tankard.
"She left Putney. I know that," Alf said decisively. "Went north, I 'eard. Up city way. Lookin' fer a soft billet, I shouldn't wonder. She were pretty enough ter please any man, long as she didn't 'ave them two little one's wif 'er."
"That's a downright cruel thing ter say!" Ted criticized.
Alf's face showed resignation. "It's true. Poor Sam. Turnin' over in 'is grave, I shouldn't wonder."
As Monk had foreseen, the public house had changed hands, and the present landlord, with the best will in the world to oblige, had no idea whatever what had happened to two little girls fifteen years ago, nor could he make any helpful suggestions. Monk had acquitted his obligations, and he left with thanks.
The obvious course was to tell Martha Jackson that he had done what he could and further pursuance was fruitless. He would not tell her his fears, only phrase things in such a manner she would not wish to waste his time on something which could not succeed.
He arrived in Tavistock Square early in the afternoon and was admitted by Martha herself. The moment she recognized him, her face filled with eagerness, hope that he had come for her battling with fear that it was only to see Hester again and dread that he had something discouraging to tell her after all.
He wished he could free himself from caring about it. It was just another case-and one which he had known from the beginning could only end this way, or worse. And yet the feeling was sharp inside him, not only for Hester but for Martha herself, and above all for Sam Jackson's children.
"I'm sorry, Miss Jackson," he said quickly. He should not keep her in even a moment's false hope. "I traced them as far as working in a public house kitchen in Putney, the Coopers Arms. But after that no one knows where they went, except it was to another job. They weren't abandoned." They might very well have been abandoned, but there was nothing to be served by telling her that.
The stiffness relaxed out of her body and her shoulders drooped. She blinked, for an instant fighting tears. Only then did he realize how much she had truly hoped, in spite of all his warnings. He felt painfully helpless. He tried to think of anything to say or do to ease her distress, and there was nothing.
She gulped once and swallowed.
"Thank you, Mr. Monk. It was very good of you to try for me." She blinked several times more, then turned away, her voice thick with unreleased weeping. "I'm sure you'd like to see Miss Latterly. Please..." She did not finish, but led him wordlessly across the hall and up the stairs towards the sitting room which she and Hester shared. She opened the door and stood back for him to enter, retreating immediately.