Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death (The Grantchester Mysteries)

one man guarding you since you entered the station. I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed.’
    ‘And how did you know someone would try to kill me?’
    ‘We didn’t. It was Canon Chambers who suggested that an attempted murder might take place and that we should be ready for this. I believe you know the man.’
    ‘I certainly do.’
    ‘Then you can have a word with him yourself. He has been summoned.’
    ‘I will need more than a word.’
    ‘Go easy on him, Mrs Morton.’
    ‘I most certainly won’t,’ Pamela replied, before looking at the receding figure of Miss Morrison. ‘That jealous, murdering bitch.’
    When Sidney finally arrived to greet Pamela Morton he could tell that he was in for a roasting. ‘What on earth do you think you were doing having me followed?’ she shouted.
    Sidney held out his hand in greeting but it was not shaken. He let his arm fall. ‘It was, I am afraid, a necessary evil.’
    ‘Was this the only way of doing things? And how did you know it would happen here?’
    ‘You take this train every Tuesday, I think?’
    ‘Most Tuesdays . . .’
    ‘Miss Morrison has always been very particular about train times. I also noticed that she liked to read Russian novels . . .’
    ‘Fascinating. But I fail to see what this has to do with me,’ Pamela Morton replied, icily.
    ‘The first time I spoke to her I realised that she was reading Anna Karenina . You will be familiar with the work?’
    ‘I have seen the film. I was not as impressed with Greta Garbo as everyone else seemed to be . . .’
    ‘A story of adultery that begins and ends on a railway platform. I informed Inspector Keating of my suspicions and although he didn’t quite believe me, he trusted me sufficiently to provide men for your protection . . .’
    ‘And how did that woman know about me?’
    ‘That I cannot reveal . . .’
    ‘You told her, didn’t you?’
    ‘I told her nothing. I let her make an assumption.’
    ‘That is as good as telling her. You promised that you would keep my secret. I could have been killed. Why didn’t you warn me?’
    ‘Sometimes it is not always what you know that matters. It is what you withhold. If you had known of the possible danger then your behaviour might have become unpredictable. It was vital that you knew nothing.’
    ‘A bit dicey if you ask me.’
    ‘A calculated risk. Taken by someone you could trust.’
    ‘That’s all very well for you to say . . .’
    ‘But we finally discovered the truth, did we not? And your suspicions were proved correct.’
    Pamela Morton jumped to the necessary conclusion. ‘So that jumped-up little nobody did everything?’
    ‘It appears so.’
    ‘Then I was right.’
    ‘You did not point the finger . . .’
    ‘That is true. But I certainly raised the alarm. I suppose there’ll be a trial?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Pamela Morton looked uneasy. ‘It will be a scandal, I imagine. How public will the information become? What shall I tell my husband? How can I explain why his secretary tried to kill me?’
    Sidney hesitated. ‘You can tell him that Miss Morrison is a fantasist and create your own story, I would have thought. Perhaps you could say that despite it all, Miss Morrison was really in love with your husband and wanted you out of the way. Most men are flattered when they discover that they have a secret admirer. Convince him of that and it should blind him to everything else.’
    ‘I hope you’re right. Interesting that you of all people should advocate the telling of untruths.’
    Sidney offered her his arm and began to escort his unwilling accomplice from the station. ‘The white lie has its purposes.’
    ‘I suppose it’s easier to tell than the black.’
    ‘I prefer white,’ Sidney added before adding a barbed question of his own. ‘But in your case isn’t it simply a matter of preserving the status quo?’
    ‘I am not sure either of us knows what that is.’
    ‘I’m sure he’ll believe whatever you say, Mrs Morton.’
    ‘It’s just as well I was once an actress. Do you think he’s going to go along with even more lies?’
    ‘Trust me . . .’
    Pamela Morton shielded her eyes from the low November sun and gave Sidney a stern look. ‘Do you know, Canon Chambers, I’m not sure that I will. I think I’ve trusted you enough for one day.’
     
    That evening Sidney stopped outside Hildegard Staunton’s front door. He was about to ring the bell when he heard the sound of the piano inside. The music was