Seven Dials Page 0,19

the most powerful: incredulity, anger, dismay, anxiety.

"I'm not sure," he said honestly. "I don't know which is the greatest ill."

She was confused. "What do you mean? It wouldn't bring the government down, not so soon after the election. Ryerson would have to go, that's all. And if he helped his mistress to murder a past lover, then so he should."

"The Manchester cotton workers are threatening to strike," he pointed out. "That's Ryerson's department, his constituency. He's possibly the only man who has a chance of settling the problem without ruining heaven knows how many people, workers and mill owners alike, and the shopkeepers, businesses and artisans of the nearby towns as well."

"I see," she said soberly. "What can you do? You can't conceal his involvement, can you? Would you?" She had put her sewing down now and her attention was undivided, her eyes dark and troubled.

"I don't suppose the question will arise," he answered, hoping profoundly that that was true. "The Egyptian embassy knows he was there."

Her eyebrows rose in amazement. "How do they know that? She told them?"

"Apparently not, she hasn't had the opportunity. But it's a most interesting question. She seemed to be willing to protect him when she was arrested. She behaved as if she was surprised to see him, and he'd only just arrived, although he says he had been there several minutes at least, and was the one who actually lifted the heavier part of the body into the barrow. Somebody certainly helped her. Lovat was far too heavy for her to have done it alone, and there was no blood on her dress."

"You need to know a lot more about him," she said with concern shadowing her eyes. "I mean not what everybody knows, but something personal. You need to know what to believe. Have you thought of asking Aunt Vespasia? If she doesn't know him herself, she'll know someone who does." She was referring to Lady Vespasia Cumming-Gould, actually her sister Emily's great-aunt by marriage, but both Charlotte and Pitt had grown to care for her deeply, and treated her as their own.

"I'll see her as soon as I can," Pitt agreed immediately. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Do you think it's too late to telephone and ask her if tomorrow morning is convenient?" He was halfway to his feet already.

Charlotte smiled. "If you tell her it is to do with a crime you are investigating, with the possibility of government scandal, I imagine she will see you at dawn, if that is when you need her to," she replied.

SHE WAS ALMOST RIGHT. However, Pitt had breakfast first, and glanced at the newspapers before leaving in the morning. It was September 16, and the news headlines were taken up with Mr. Gladstone's visit to Wales, where he had apparently reached some level of agreement on the disestablishment of the Church in that country. Also written about extensively were the outbreaks of cholera in Paris and Hamburg, and on a lighter note, the fact that the recently completed bust of Queen Victoria, sculpted by Princess Louise, was to remain in Osborne House until its shipment to Chicago for exhibition there.

By nine o'clock Pitt was in Vespasia's bright, airy withdrawing room with its windows overlooking the garden. The simplicity of the furnishings, with none of the fashionable clutter of the last sixty years' taste, reminded him that she was born in another age and her memories stretched back to the time before Victoria was queen. As a child she had known the fear of invasion by the Emperor Napoleon.

Now she sat in her favorite chair and regarded him with interest. She was still a woman of remarkable beauty, and she had lost none of the wit and style that had dazzled society for three generations. She was dressed in dove gray this morning, with her favorite long rows of pearls around her neck and gleaming softly over her bosom.

"Well, Thomas," she said with slightly raised silver eyebrows. "If you wish for my assistance you had better tell me what it is you require to know. I am not acquainted with the unfortunate young Egyptian woman who appears to have shot Lieutenant Lovat. It seems an uncivilized and inefficient way to discard an unwanted lover. A firm rebuff is usually adequate, but if it is not, there are still less hysterical ways of achieving the same end. A clever woman can organize her lovers to dispose of each other, without breaking the law."