William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother

most uninteresting mind.
    “No, Mr. Monk,” she said a little more sharply, but the fear was dark in her eyes. “I am afraid he has been done to death. I wish you to find out for me.” In spite of her desperate words, she did not look up at him. “Nothing you can do will help Angus now,” she continued quietly. “But since he has disappeared, and there is no trace of him, he is presumed by the law simply to have deserted us. I have five children, Mr. Monk, and without Angus, his business will very rapidly cease to provide for us.”
    Suddenly the matter became real, and genuinely urgent. He no longer saw her as an overwordy woman fussing over some fancied offense, but one with a profound cause for the fear in her eyes.
    “Have you reported his absence to the police?” he asked.
    Her eyes flickered up to his. “Oh yes. I spoke to a Sergeant Evan. He was most kind, but he could do nothing to help me, because I have no proof that Angus did not go of his own will. It was Sergeant Evan who gave me your name.”
    “I see.” John Evan had been Monk’s most loyal friend at the time of his own trouble, and would not have dismissed this woman could he have helped her. “How long since you saw or heard from your husband, Mrs. Stonefield?” he asked gravely.
    The shadow of a smile crossed her features and was gone. Perhaps it was a reflection in the change in his own expression.
    “Three days, Mr. Monk,” she said quietly. “I know that is not long, and he has been away from home often before, and for longer, sometimes up to a week. But this is different. Always before he has informed me, and left provision for us, and of course he left instructions for Mr. Arbuthnot at his place of business. Never before has he missed an appointment, or failed to leave authority and direction so Mr. Arbuthnot might act in his absence.” She leaned forward, almost unaware of the charming tilting of the hoops of her skirt. “He did not expect to be gone, Mr. Monk, and he has contacted no one!”
    He felt a considerable sympathy for her, but the most practical way he could help was to learn as many of the facts as she was able to give him.
    “At what time of the day did you last see him?” he asked.
    “At breakfast, about eight o’clock in the morning,” she replied. “That was January the eighteenth.”
    It was now the twenty-first.
    “Did he say where he intended going, Mrs. Stonefield?”
    She took a deep breath, and he saw her folded hands in her lap clasp each other more firmly in their neat white gloves. “Yes, Mr. Monk. He went from home to his placeof business. From there he told Mr. Arbuthnot that he was going to see his brother.”
    “Did he call upon his brother often?” he asked. It seemed an unremarkable occurrence.
    “He was in the habit of visiting him at irregular intervals,” she replied. She looked up, staring at him intently, as if the meaning of this were so vital to her she could not believe it would not have the same impact on him. “As long as I have known him,” she added, her voice dropping and becoming husky. “You see, they are twins.”
    “It is not uncommon for brothers to visit each other, Mrs. Stonefield.” He remarked it only because he could see no reason for her white face, or her tense body as she sat uncomfortably on the edge of her chair. “Of course, you have been in touch with the other Mr. Stonefield and asked if your husband arrived safely, at what time, and in what circumstances he left?” It was barely a question. He had already assumed the answer.
    “No …” The word was no more than a whisper.
    “What?”
    “No,” she repeated with despair, her eyes wide, blue-gray and burningly direct. “Angus’s brother Caleb is everything he is not—violent, brutal, dangerous, an outcast even among the underworld along the river beyond Limehouse, where he lives.” She gave a shuddering sigh. “I used to beg Angus not to keep seeing him, but in spite of everything Caleb did, he felt that he could not abandon him.” A shadow crossed her face. “There is something very special about being a twin, I suppose. I confess, it is not something I understand.” She shook her head a little, as if denying her own anguish. “Please, Mr. Monk, will you find out what happened to my husband for me? I …” She bit her lip, but her eyes did not waver. “I shall need to know your terms in advance. My resources are limited.”
    “I will make inquiries, Mrs. Stonefield.” He