face, then vanished, leaving him graver than before. "Your witness is either malicious, frightened for himself, or else overheard part of a conversation and misunderstood. I have no idea which."
Jeavis pinched his lip doubtfully. "Well that could be the case, but it was a very reputable person, and I still want a better explanation than that, sir, because from what was overheard, it looks very like Miss Barrymore was blackmailing you and threatening to go to the hospital authorities and tell them something, and you begged with her not to. Would you care to explain that, sir?"
Beck looked paler.
"I can't explain it," he confessed. "It's complete nonsense."
Jeavis grunted. "I don't think so, sir. I don't think so at all. But we'll leave that for now." He looked at Beck sharply. "Just don't take it into your head to go for a trip back to France, or wherever it is you come from. Or I'll have to come after you!"
"I have no desire whatever to go to France, Inspector," Beck said dryly. "I shall be here, I assure you. Now if there is nothing further, I must return to my patients." And without waiting to see if Jeavis agreed, he walked past the two policemen and out of the room.
"Suspicious," Jeavis said darkly. "Marie my words, Evan, that's our man."
"Maybe." Evan did not agree, not because he knew anything, or suspected anyone else, but out of contrariness. "And maybe not."
* * * * *
Callandra became increasingly aware of Jeavis's presence in the hospital, and then, with a sick fear, of his suspicion of Kristian Beck. She did not believe for an instant that he was guilty, but she had seen enough miscarriage of justice to know that innocence was not always sufficient to save one even from the gallows, let alone from the damage of suspicion, the ruin to reputation, the fear and the loss of friends and fortune.
As she walked down the wide corridor of the hospital she felt a peculiar breathlessness and something not unlike a dizziness as she turned the corner, and almost bumped into Berenice Ross Gilbert.
"Oh! Good afternoon," she said with a gasp, regaining her balance somewhat ungracefully.
"Good afternoon, Callandra," Berenice said with her elegant eyebrows raised. "You look a trifle flustered, my dear. Is there something wrong?"
"Of course something is wrong," Callandra replied testily. "Nurse Barrymore has been murdered. Isn't that as wrong as anything can be?"
"It is fearful, naturally," Berenice answered, adjusting the drape of her fichu. "But to judge from your expression, I thought there must be something new. I'm relieved there is not." She was dressed in a rich shade of brown with gold lace. "The whole place is at sixes and sevens. Mrs. Flaherty cannot get sense out of any of the nurses. Stupid women seem to think there is a lunatic about and they are all in danger." Her rather long-nosed face with its ironic amusement was full of contempt as she stared at Callandra. "Which is ridiculous. It's obviously a personal crime- some rejected lover, as like as not."
"Rejected suitor, perhaps," Callandra corrected. "Not lover. Prudence was not of that nature."
"Oh really, my dear." Berenice laughed outright, her face full of scornful amusement. "She may have been gauche, but of course she was of that nature. Do you suppose she spent all that time out in the Crimea with all those soldiers out of a religious vocation to help the sick?"
"No. I think she went out of a sense of frustration at home," Callandra snapped back. "Adventure to travel and see other places and people, do something useful, and above all to learn about medicine, which had been her passion since she was a girl."
Berenice tossed her head in laughter, a rich gurgling sound. "You are naive, my dear! But by all means think what you will." She moved a little closer to Callandra, as if to impart a confidence, and Callandra caught a breath of rich musky perfume. "Have you seen that fearful little policeman? What an oily creature, like a beetle. Have you noticed he has hardly any eyebrows, and those black eyes like stones." She shuddered. "I swear they look just like the prune stones I used to count to know my future. You know, tinker, tailor, and so on. I am quite sure he thinks Dr. Beck did it."
Callandra tried to speak and had to swallow an obstruction in her throat.
"Dr. Beck?" She should not have been surprised. It was only her fear spoken aloud.