William Monk 02 - A Dangerous Mourning

mention Chinese Paddy; he did not think Moidore would be inclined to take his evidence well. “And by a large number of liveried footmen and coachmen waiting on their employers to leave a party at the corner of Chandos Street.”
    “Then obviously the man came from the mews,” Basil responded irritably.
    “Your own groom and coachmen sleep above your stables, sir,” Monk pointed out. “And anyone climbing over there would be highly unlikely to get across that roof without disturbingat least the horses. Then he would have to get right over the house roof and down the other side. Almost impossible to do, unless he was a mountaineer with ropes and climbing equipment, and—”
    “There is no call to be sarcastic,” Basil snapped. “I take your point. Then he must have come in the front some time between your policeman’s patrols. There is no other answer. He certainly was not hiding in the house all evening! And neither did he leave after the servants were up.”
    Monk was forced to mention Chinese Paddy.
    “I am sorry, but that is not so. We also found a housebreaker who was watching the Harley Street end all night, hoping to get a chance to break in farther along. He got no opportunity because there were people about who would have observed him if he had. But he was watching all night from eleven until four—which covers the relevant time. I am sorry.”
    Sir Basil swung around from the table he had been facing, his eyes black, his mouth drawn down in anger. “Then why in God’s name haven’t you arrested him? He must be the one! On his own admission he is a housebreaker. What more do you want?” He glared at Monk. “He broke in here and poor Octavia heard him—and he killed her. What is the matter with you, standing here like a fool?”
    Monk felt his body tighten with fury, the more biting because it was impotent. He needed to succeed in his profession, and he would fail completely if he were as rude as he wished, and were thrown out. How Runcorn would love that! It would be not only professional disgrace but social as well.
    “Because his story is true,” he replied with a level, harsh voice. “Substantiated by Mr. Bentley, his doctor and a maid who has no interest in the matter and no idea what her testimony means.” He did not meet Sir Basil’s eyes because he dared not let him see the anger in them, and he hated the submission of it. “The housebreaker did not pass along the street,” he went on. “He did not rob anyone, because he did not have the chance, and he can prove it. I wish it were so simple; we should be very pleased to solve the case as neatly—sir.”
    Basil leaned forward across the table.
    “Then if no one broke in, and no one was concealed here, you have created an impossible situation—unless you are suggesting—”He stopped, the color drained out of his face and slowly a very real horror replaced the irritation and impatience. He stood stock-still. “Are you?” he said very quietly.
    “Yes, Sir Basil,” Monk answered him.
    “That’s—” Basil stopped. For several seconds he remained in absolute silence, his thoughts apparently inward, racing, ideas grasped and rejected. Finally he came to some realization he could not cast aside. “I see,” he said at last. “I cannot think of any imaginable reason, but we must face the inevitable. It seems preposterous, and I still believe that you will find some flaw in your reasoning, or that your evidence is faulty. But until then we must proceed on your assumption.” He frowned very slightly. “What do you require next? I assure you we have no violent quarrels or conflicts in the house and no one has behaved in any way out of their usual custom.” He regarded Monk with something between dislike and a bitter humor. “And we do not have personal relationships with our servants, let alone of the sort which would occasion this.” He put his hands in his pockets. “It is absurd—but I do not wish to obstruct you.”
    “I agree a quarrel seems unlikely.” Monk measured his words, both to keep his own dignity and to show Basil there was some sense to the argument. “Especially in the middle of the night when all the household was in bed. But it is not impossible Mrs. Haslett was privy to some secret, albeit unintentionally, that someone feared she might expose—” It was not only possible, it excluded her from all blame. He saw Basil’s face lose some of its anxiety, and a flicker of hope appeared in his