William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother

woman.”
    “The same man!” he said quickly, leaning forward a little. “The brother is Angus Stonefield, but Caleb may well have dropped the second half of his name. It fits with what Genevieve said of him.” He realized as he spoke how he had been hoping inside himself that it was not true, that perhaps her view of Caleb was exaggerated. Now in a sentence that was ended.
    Callandra shook her head. “I am afraid if that is so, then you have not only a greater task ahead of you but perhaps an exceedingly difficult one. Caleb Stone may be guilty, but it will be very hard to prove. There is little love lost for him around here, but fear may hold people silent. I assume you have already inquired into the more usual explanations for the brother’s absence?”
    “How delicately put,” he said with a sharp edge to hisvoice. He was not angry with her, only with the circumstances and his own helplessness. “You mean debt, theft or another woman?”
    “Something like that …”
    “I haven’t proved them impossible, simply unlikely. I traced him the last day he was seen. He came as far as Union Road, about a mile from here.”
    “Oh—”
    Before he could add anything further he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Hester standing in the doorway. Even though he had already seen her dimly in the main room, it had not prepared him for meeting her face-to-face. He had thought a dozen times exactly what he was going to say, how casual he was going to be, as if nothing had changed between them since the conclusion of the trial in Edinburgh. On reflection, that was about the best time to go back to. They could hardly pretend that had not occurred. If she referred to the Farralines, that was acceptable, although the subject might be sensitive to her, and he would respect that.
    She would not mention the small room in which they had been trapped, or anything that had happened between them there. That would be so indelicate as to be inexcusable. She knew it had been occasioned by what had seemed the knowledge of certain death, and not an emotion which could be carried into their succeeding lives. To refer to it would be both clumsy and painful.
    But women were peculiar where emotions were concerned, especially emotions that had anything to do with love. They were unpredictable and illogical.
    How did he know that? Was that some submerged memory, or simply assumption?
    Not that Hester was very feminine. He would find her more appealing if she were. She had no art to charm, or the kind of subtle flattery that is only a selection and amplification of the truth. She was much too direct … almost to the point of challenge. She had no idea when to keep herown counsel and defer to others. Intellectual women were remarkably unattractive. It was not a pleasing quality to be right all the time, most particularly in matters of logic, judgment and military history. She was at once very clever and remarkably stupid.
    “Is something wrong?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts. She looked from Callandra to Monk and back again.
    “Does something have to be wrong for me to come here?” he said defensively, rising to his feet.
    “Here?” Her eyebrows rose. “Yes.”
    “Then you’ve answered your own question, haven’t you,” he said tartly. She was quite right. No one would come to a pesthouse in the East End without a desperate reason. Apart from the physical unpleasantness of the smell, the cold, the drab, damp surroundings and the sounds of pain, it was the best way in the world to contract the disease yourself. He looked at her face. She must be exhausted. She was so pale her skin was almost gray, her hair was filthy and her clothes too thin for the barely heated room. She would not have the strength to resist illness.
    She bit her lip in irritation. It always annoyed her to be verbally outmaneuvered.
    “You’ve come for Callandra’s help.” Her tone was waspish. “Or mine?”
    He knew that was meant sarcastically. He was also aware how often she had helped him; sometimes, as in the first occasion they had met, when he was truly desperate and his life hung in the balance. He had never been able to forget how it was her courage and her belief in him which had given him the strength to fight.
    Several answers flashed through his head, most of them offensive. In the end, largely for Callandra’s sake, he settled for the truth, or close to it.
    “I have a case which seems to fade out two