William Monk 08 - The Silent Cry

intention of asking to see him. I hoped you might tell me more about both Rhys and his father. It may help to learn what happened.”
    Wade sighed. “Presumably they were attacked, robbed and beaten by thieves,” he said unhappily. Sadness and gravity were equal in his face. “Does it matter now why they went to St. Giles? Have you the least real hope of catching whoever it was or of proving anything? I have little experience of St. Giles in particular, but I spent several years in the navy. I have seen some rough areas, places where there is desperate poverty,where disease and death are commonplace and a child is fortunate to reach its sixth birthday—and more fortunate still to reach manhood. Few have an honest trade which earns them sufficient to live. Fewer still can read or write. This is, then, a way of life. Violence is easy, the first resort, not the last.”
    He was looking at Evan intently, his dark eyes narrowed. “I would have thought you were familiar with such places also, but perhaps you are too young. Were you born in the city, Sergeant?”
    “No, in the country …”
    Wade smiled. He had excellent teeth. “Then perhaps you still have something to learn about the human battle for survival and how men turn upon each other when there is too little space, too little food, too little air, and no hope or strength of belief to change it. Despair breeds rage, Mr. Evan, and a desire to retaliate against a world in which there is no apparent justice. It is to be expected.”
    “I do expect it, sir,” Evan replied. “And I would have imagined a man of Mr. Leighton Duff’s intelligence and experience of the world to have expected it also—indeed, to have foreseen it.”
    Wade stared at him. He looked extremely tired. There was little color in his face and his body slumped as though he had no strength left and his muscles hurt him.
    “I imagine he knew it as well as we do,” he said bleakly. “He must have gone in after Rhys. You have only seen Rhys as he is now, Mr. Evan, a victim of violence, a man confused and in pain, and extremely frightened.” He pushed out his lower lip. “He is not always so. Before this … incident … he was a young man of considerable bravado and appetite, and with much of youth’s belief in its own superiority, invincibility, and insensitivity to the feelings of others. He had the average capacity to be cruel and to enjoy a certain power.” His mouth tightened. “I make no judgments, and God knows, I would cure him of all of this if I could, but it is not impossible he was involved with a woman of that area and exercised certain desires without regard to their consequences upon others. She may have belonged to someone else. He may even have beenrougher than was acceptable. Perhaps she had family who …” He did not bother to finish; it was unnecessary.
    Evan frowned, searching his way through crowding possibilities.
    “Dr. Wade, are you saying that you have observed a streak of cruelty or violence in Rhys Duff before this incident?”
    Wade hesitated. “No, Sergeant, I am not,” he said finally. “I am saying that I knew Leighton Duff for close to twenty years, and I cannot conceive of any reason why he should go to an area like St. Giles, except to try to reason with his son and prevent him from committing some act of folly from which he could not extricate himself. In the light of what has happened, I can only believe that he was right.”
    “Did he speak to you of such fears, Dr. Wade?”
    “You must know, Sergeant, that I cannot answer you.” Wade’s voice was grave and heavy, but there was no anger in it. “I understand that it is your duty to ask. You must understand that it is my duty to refuse to answer.”
    “Yes,” Evan agreed with a sigh. “Yes, of course I do. I do not think I need to trouble you further, at least not tonight. Thank you for your time.”
    “You are welcome, Sergeant.”
    Evan stood up and went to the door.
    “Sergeant.”
    He turned. “Yes sir?”
    “I think your case may be insoluble. Please try to consider Mrs. Duff’s feelings as much as you can. Do not pursue tragic and sordid details of her son’s life which cannot help you and which she will have to live with, as well as with her grief. I cannot promise you that Rhys will recover. He may not.”
    “Do you mean his speech or his life?”
    “Both.”
    “I see. Thank you for your kindness. Good night, Dr. Wade.”
    “Good night, Sergeant.”
    Evan left