William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

pleasanter to remain and listen to her reminiscences, but he had undertaken a duty.
    He rose to his feet. “Thank you, ma’am. Courtesy compels me, or I should not leave so readily.”
    “Ha! Very nicely said, young man.” She nodded. “I think from your face there is more to you than chasing trivia, but that is your affair. Good day to you.”
    He bowed his head and took his leave of her. However, neither the gardener nor the scullery maid could tell him anything of use whatever. They had not seen any stranger in the area. There was no access to the garden of number fourteen except if someone chose to climb the wall, and the flower beds on either side had not been damaged or disturbed. A Peeping Tom, if indeed there had been such a person, must have come some other way.
    The occupant of number twelve was of no assistance either. He was a fussy man with gray hair, which was sparse in front, and gold-rimmed eyeglasses. No, he had seen no one in the area who was not known to him and of excellent character. No, he had suffered no breakages in his cold frames. He was sorry, but he could be of no help, and since he was extremely busy, would Mr. Monk be so good as to excuse him.
    The residents of the house whose garden abutted number fourteen at the end were considerably more lively. Therewere at least seven children whom Monk counted, three of them boys, so he abandoned the broken cold frames and returned to the Peeping Tom.
    “Oh dear,” Mrs. Hylton said with a frown. “What a foolish thing. Men with too little to occupy themselves, no doubt. Everyone ought to be busy.” She poked a strand of hair back into its place and smoothed her skirts. “Keep themselves out of trouble. Miss Gillespie, you said? What a shame. Such a nice young lady. And her sister as well. Devoted, they are, which is so pleasant to see, don’t you think?” She waved Monk toward the window where he could have a good view of their garden, the wall dividing it from the Penroses’, but gave him no time to answer her rhetorical question. “And a very agreeable man, Mr. Penrose is too, I am sure.”
    “Do you have a gardener, Mrs. Hylton?”
    “A gardener?” She was obviously surprised. “Dear me, no. I am afraid the garden is rather left to its own devices, apart from my husband cutting the grass every so often.” She smiled happily. “Children, you know? I was afraid at first you were going to say someone had been too wild with the cricket ball and broken a window. You have no idea what a relief it was!”
    “The action of a Peeping Tom does not frighten you, ma’am?”
    “Oh dear no.” She looked at him narrowly. “I doubt if there really was one, you know. Miss Gillespie is very young. Young girls are given to fancies at times, and to nerves.” She smoothed her skirts again and rearranged the billowing fabric. “It comes of just sitting around waiting to meet a suitable young man, and hoping he will choose her above her fellows.” She took a deep breath. “Of course, she is very pretty, and that will help, but entirely dependent upon her brother-in-law to support her until then. And as I understand it, there is no dowry to mention. I shouldn’t be too concerned, if I were you, Mr. Monk. I expect it was a cat in the bushes, or some such thing.”
    “I see,” Monk said thoughtfully, not that his mind wason any kind of animal, or Marianne’s possible imagination, but upon her financial dependence. “I daresay you are right,” he added quickly. “Thank you, Mrs. Hylton. I think I shall take your advice and abandon the pursuit. I wish you good day, ma’am.”
    He had luncheon in a small, busy public house in the Euston Road, and then walked for some time in deep thought, hands in his pockets. The more he considered the evidence the more he disliked the conclusions it suggested. He had never thought it likely anyone came over the garden wall, now he considered it so improbable as to exclude it from his mind. Whoever had attacked Marianne had come through her own house, and therefore was known either to her or to her sister, almost certainly both.
    Since they did not intend to prosecute, why had they called Monk? Why had they mentioned the matter at all?
    The answer to that was obvious. Julia did not know of it. Marianne had been forced to explain the bruises in some way, and her state of distress; probably her clothes were torn or stained with grass or even blood. And for her own reasons she had not been willing to tell