Anne Perry - The Face of a Stranger

"Can you come with me!" he said urgently. "Please? I'll explain as we go. Miss Latterly-I-"

"Yes." She did not need time to decide. To refuse was an impossibility. And she must leave before Charles or Imogen came from the withdrawing room, impelled by curiosity, and discovered the drenched and frantic policeman in the hall. She could not even go back for her cloak-what use would it be in this downpour anyway? "Yes-I'll come now." She walked past him and out of the front door. The wall of rain hit her in the face and she ignored it, continuing across the pavement, over the bubbling gutter and up into the hansom before either Evan or the driver had time to hand her up.

Evan scrambled behind her and slammed the door, shouting his instructions to drive to Grafton Street. Since the cabby had not yet been paid, he had little alternative.

“What has happened, Mr. Evan?'' Hester asked as soon as they were moving. "I can see that it is something very terrible. Have you discovered who murdered Joscelin Grey?"

There was no point in hesitating now; the die was cast.

"Yes, Miss Latterly. Mr. Monk retraced all the steps of his first investigation-with your help," He took a deep breath. He was cold now that the moment came; he was wet to the skin and shaking. "Joscelin Grey made his living by finding the families of men killed in the Crimea, pretending he had known the dead soldier and befriended him-either lending him money, paying the debts he left, or giving him some precious personal belonging, like the watch hcqlaimed to have lent your brother, then when the family could not give it back to him-which they never could, since it did not exist-they felt in his debt, which he used to obtain invitations, influence, financial or social backing. Usually it was only a few hundred guineas, or to be a guest at their expense. In your father's case it was to his ruin and death. Either way Grey did not give a damn what happened to his victims, and he had every intention of continuing."

"What a vile crime," she said quietly. "He was totally despicable. I am glad that he is dead-and perhaps sorry for whoever killed him. You have not said who it was?" Suddenly she was cold also. "Mr. Evan-?"

"Yes ma'am-Mr. Monk went to his flat in Mecklenburg Square and faced him with it. They fought-Mr. Monk beat him, but he was definitely alive and not mortally hurt when Mr. Monk left. But as Monk reached the street he saw someone else arrive, and go towards the door which was still swinging open in the wind."

He saw Hester's face pale in the glare of the streetlamps through the carriage window.

"Who?"

"Menard Grey," he replied, waiting in the dark again to judge from her voice, or her silence, if she believed it. "Probably because Joscelin dishonored the memory of his friend Edward Dawlish, and deceived Edward's father into giving him hospitality, as he did your father-and the money would have followed."

She said nothing for several minutes. They swayed and rattled through the intermittent darkness, the rain battering on the roof and streaming past in torrents, yellow where the gaslight caught it.

“How very sad,'' she said at last, and her voice was tight with emotion as though the pity caused a physical pain in her throat.”Poor Menard. I suppose you are going to arrest him? Why have you brought me? I can do nothing."

"We can't arrest him," he answered quietly. "There is no proof."

"There-" She swiveled around in her seat; he felt her rather than saw her. "Then what are you going to do? They'll think it was Monk. They'll charge him-they'll-" She swallowed. "They'll hang him."

"I know. We must make Menard confess. I thought you might know how we could do that? You know the Greys far better than we could, from the outside. And Joscelin was responsible for your father's death-and your mother's, indirectly."

Again she sat silent for so long he was afraid he had offended her, or reminded her of grief so deep she was unable to do anything but nurse its pain inside her. They were drawing close to Grafton Street, and soon they must leave the cab and face Monk with some resolution-or admit failure. Then he would be faced with the task he dreaded so much the thought of it made him sick. He must either tell Runcorn the truth, that Monk fought with Jos-celin Grey the night of his death-or else deliberately conceal the fact and lay himself open to certain dismissal from the police force-and the possible charge of accessory to murder.

They were in the Tottenham Court Road, lamps gleaming on the wet pavements, gutters awash. There was no time left.

"Miss Latterly."

"Yes. Yes," she said firmly. "I will come with you to Shelburne Hall. I have thought about it, and the only way I can see success is if you tell Lady Fabia the truth about Joscelin. I will corroborate it. My family were his victims as well, and she will have to believe me, because I have no interest in lying. It does not absolve my father's suicide in the eyes of the church." She hesitated only an instant. "Then if you proceed to tell her about Edward Dawlish as well, I think Menard may be persuaded to confess. He may see no other avenue open to him, once his mother realizes that he killed Joscelin-which she will. It will devastate her-it may destroy her." Her voice was very low. "And they may hang Menard. But we cannot permit the law to hang Mr. Monk instead, merely because the truth is a tragedy that will wound perhaps beyond bearing. Joscelin Grey was a man who did much evil. We cannot protect his mother either from her part in it, or from the pain of knowing."

"You'll come to Shelburne tomorrow?" He had to hear her say it again. "You are prepared to tell her your own family's suffering at Joscelin's hands?"

"Yes. And how Joscelin obtained the names of the dying in Scutari, as I now realize, so he could use them to cheat their families. At what time will you depart?"

Again relief swept over him, and an awe for her that she could so commit herself without equivocation. But then to go out to the Crimea to nurse she must be a woman of courage beyond the ordinary imagination, and to remain there, of a strength of purpose that neither danger nor pain could bend.

"I don't know," he said a trifle foolishly. "There was little purpose in going at all unless you were prepared to come. Lady Shelburne would hardly believe us without further substantiation from beyond police testimony. Shall we say the first train after eight o'clock in the morning?" Then he remembered he was asking a lady of some gentility. "Is that too early?"

"Certainly not." Had he been able to see her face there might have been the faintest of smiles on it.

"Thank you. Then do you wish to take this hansom back home again, and I shall alight here and go and tell Mr. Monk?"

"That would be the most practical thing," she agreed. "I shall see you at the railway station in the morning."

He wanted to say something more, but all that came to his mind was either repetitious or vaguely condescending. He simply thanked her again and climbed out into the cold and teeming rain. It was only when the cab had disappeared into the darkness and he was halfway up the stairs to Monk's rooms that he realized with acute embarrassment that he had left her to pay the cabby.

The journey to Shelburne was made at first with heated conversation and then in silence, apart from the small politenesses of travel. Monk was furious that Hester was present. He refrained from ordering her home again only because the train was already moving when she entered the carriage from the corridor, bidding them good-morning and seating herself opposite.

"I asked Miss Latterly to come," Evan explained without a blush, "because her additional testimony will carry great weight with Lady Fabia, who may well not believe us, since we have an obvious interest in claiming Joscelin was a cad. Miss Latterly's experience, and that of her family, is something she cannot so easily deny." He did not make the mistake of claiming that Hester had any moral right to be there because of her own loss, or her part in the solution. Monk wished he had, so he could lose his temper and accuse him of irrelevance. The argument he had presented was extremely reasonable-in fact he was right. Hester's corroboration would be very likely to tip the balance of decision, which otherwise the Greys together might rebut.