Peter Lovesey - A Case of Spirits

She answered without turning her face. ‘I should not be here otherwise, Sergeant. You gave me to understand that I might be able to speak with-’

‘It is all arranged, ma’am. But tell me first: the proposal in my letter regarding tomorrow night-is that in order?’

‘Is it likely that I would refuse? As I told you on a previous occasion, I have a horror of seances and I shall remain in my room, but if you believe that reconstructing the events of last Saturday will assist your investigation, the house is at your disposal. You will tell my husband, of course?’

‘That will be taken care of,’ Cribb promised. ‘Now, the other matter. As you know, we are holding a certain party in custody in this building, and I have made arrangements for him to be brought up presently from the cells.’

‘This is very accommodating of you.’

‘Not at all, ma’am. I have my reasons. But before we bring the professor in, I should like to explain a little matter of police procedure. As you know, we detained him-or rather, you did, with your book of sermons-on Saturday night. I charged him under what is known as the Larceny Act of 1861, with entering a dwelling-house in the night with intent to commit a felony therein. He also admitted to certain other offences, namely removing a vase from Miss Crush’s possession and a painting from your husband’s, but I have not charged him with these. It’s not necessary, if you follow me, to bring more than one charge at a time.’

‘I think my husband would prefer it if the charges were not brought at all,’ said Mrs Probert. ‘He is inclined to be unsocial about his collection of pictures.’

‘Understandably, ma’am. I believe Miss Crush is not enthusiastic about pressing the charges either. Of course I should not take any account of that if I regarded Professor Quayle as a danger to the public.’

‘He certainly isn’t that,’ said Mrs Probert firmly.

‘I’m glad to hear you say it, ma’am, because I value your opinion. I believe it’s right to say that you have known the professor for some considerable time.’

A change came over Mrs Probert’s face, as if Cribb had peeled away a mask. She blinked, her brow furrowed and she actually turned towards him. ‘Who told you that?’

‘That’s confidential, ma’am, but I have it on good authority that the professor has visited the house quite regular. He used to bring sweets for your daughter when she was small.’

‘Yes, yes. That is correct,’ said Mrs Probert quickly. ‘He is a harmless man. He is no more wicked than you or your assistant.’

‘Thank you, ma’am. But I hope you understand my problem. Even if I set aside the matters of the vase and picture, I’m left with the original charge, and if the professor is convicted there’s a minimum sentence of three years’ penal servitude for that.’

‘Three years-how dreadful!’

‘And a maximum of seven,’ added Cribb for completeness. ‘It did cross my mind, though, that if the professor wanted to commit a felony that night he would have done better to have broken into an empty house, such as Miss Crush’s. I posted Thackeray in Eaton Square for that very reason, didn’t I, Constable?’

‘Yes,’ said Thackeray, remembering the injunction to answer in monosyllables.

‘But there’s no denying that he came to Richmond,’ Cribb continued. ‘I followed him to your house myself, and saw him go inside. He pushed open the back door. Now that’s one of several curious things about that night. The door wasn’t locked. He pushed it open just as if he was expecting it to be unlocked. He wasn’t even carrying any of the tools a housebreaker uses. He had nothing more incriminating upon him than a flask of gin. I like a drop of gin occasional myself, ma’am. Do you?’

‘I’m not sure what you intend by that question,’ said Mrs Probert slowly.

‘Just this, ma’am.’ Cribb picked up a chair, planted it a yard from Mrs Probert and sat down. ‘If I could be certain that Professor Quayle entered your house for a reason that the law would not describe as a felony, I could drop the charge. He could walk out of here this morning a free man.’

Mrs Probert had taken out a handkerchief and was twisting it between the fingers of her left hand. Her knuckles were white.

‘If it was a confidential reason,’ Cribb went on, ‘nothing need be repeated outside this room. I’m the soul of discretion myself and Thackeray over there would forget his own name if I asked him to.’

She shook her head. ‘I never confide in people. It’s not the way we behave in our family.’

‘Your family isn’t here, ma’am,’ Cribb reasonably pointed out. ‘It’s Professor Quayle we’re thinking of. Three years- that’s the devil of a long time for a man as sensitive as he is.’

The lace along one edge of the handkerchief tore between Mrs Probert’s fingers. She crumpled it quickly in her hand.

‘Let’s see,’ Cribb airily continued. ‘If he’s convicted in Surrey, he’ll have to spend it in Wandsworth, some of it with hard labour, I shouldn’t be surprised. Do you know what that means, Mrs Probert?’

She drew a deep breath. ‘You have done this before, haven’t you? You know exactly how to phrase your questions to cause the greatest possible distress. You are not a gentleman.’

If she was trying to injure her interrogator in return, it was not successful. ‘I wasn’t brought up to be one, ma’am. Nor are the warders I know in Wandsworth jail.’

She closed her eyes tight for several seconds, as if to shut out the image Cribb was seeking to implant in her mind.

‘Can’t say I’ve ever seen a convict I would call a gent,’ Cribb went on, ‘but I suppose some must have started that way. After three months’ hard, you wouldn’t know the difference. They talk the same and they even look the same. It must be the skilly they feed them-it’s a wonderful leveller is skilly.’

Mrs Probert opened her eyes and resumed her sphinx-like gaze across the room, as if that would afford some relief from the pain of what she was to say. ‘Yes, I know what prison would do to him. It would break him in mind and body, and, as you rightly calculate, no woman’s secret is worth such a price. I shall tell you what happened for his sake, and I hope and pray that there is some compassion in you. The professor came to our house on Saturday night at my invitation. He came to visit me in my room. I knew that my husband would be fully occupied downstairs. I left the back door unbolted. Professor Quayle is, as you have discovered, an old friend. If I tell you that our occasional evenings together were innocent in everything but the sharing of a small bottle of gin, I know that you have every right to disbelieve me, as my husband unquestionably will when he hears of this.’

Cribb shook his head. ‘In this investigation, ma’am, I’ve heard no end of things I disbelieved, but I’ve no reason yet to doubt anything I’ve heard from you, and that includes the statement you have just made. As for your husband, I can think of no way he would get to hear about these meetings, can you, Thackeray?’

‘No.’ Thackeray threw caution to the winds and added, ‘Definitely not, Sergeant.’

‘Fetch the professor, then, and have the darbies taken off him first.’ When Thackeray had left on this errand, Cribb confided to Mrs Probert, ‘He’s totally reliable. Got his black eye for safeguarding a lady’s secret.’

The reunion of the professor and Mrs Probert was simple and affecting, the more so considering that she had knocked him insensible at their last meeting. He entered the room, white, gaunt, with clothes creased and chin unshaven, and crossed to where she was under the hatstand and took her hands.