William Monk 11 - Slaves of Obsession

put yer mind ter it. I never wanted ter.”
    Monk stayed a little longer, then thanked the man and took his leave, choosing not to look to either the right or the left as he went out. He had found compassion in the man, and he wanted to know nothing of his trade.
    The man had been perfectly correct in saying that it would not be difficult to trace the payments, now that Monk knew they were made regularly. It took him the rest of that day, and required no skills beyond ordinary knowledge of banking and common sense. Any number of other people could have done the same.
    He also wrote a note to Sergeant Walters, telling him the name of the man he was seeking was Garson Dalgetty.
    Leaving Clerkenwell, he wondered why Alberton had not mentioned that he had made Gilmer an allowance of five guineas a month. It was not an enormous amount. It would get him a little extra food, enough sherry and laudanum to ease his worst distress, no more. It was an act of charity, nothing to be ashamed of, very much the opposite. But was it all it seemed?
    He did not bother to trace any gift made by Casbolt. Alberton’s gift was enough for his purposes. If he found no blackmailer in that, he could go back to Casbolt again.
    The next thing he would do was trace the gun dealers through whom Alberton was requested to make the payment. But before that he would report to Alberton, as he had promised.
    The evening went far from the way Monk had planned. He arrived at the house in Tavistock Square and was received immediately. Alberton looked anxious and tired, as if some negotiations of his own had not been easy.
    “Thank you for coming, Monk,” he said with a brief smile, welcoming him into the library. “Do sit down. Would you like a glass of whisky, or something else?” He gestured to the crystal-and-silver tantalus on a side table.
    Monk was seldom treated as if he were a social equal, even in the most delicate cases. He had found that the more embarrassed people were by their need, the less did they wish to unbend to those whose help they asked. Alberton was a pleasant exception. Nevertheless he declined, wishing not only to keep a totally clear head, but also to be seen to.
    Alberton did not take anything either. It seemed the invitation was purely hospitable, not a desire to excuse indulging himself.
    Monk began to tell him briefly what he had learned of Gilmer and his life and death. He was giving an account of his visit to FitzAlan when the butler knocked on the door.
    “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” he apologized. “But Mr. Breeland is here again, and very insistent. Shall I ask him to wait, sir, or … or have one of the footmen show him out? I am afraid it could prove most unpleasant, and bearing in mind that he has been a guest …”
    Alberton looked at Monk. “I’m sorry,” he said bleakly. “This is a very awkward situation. You met young Breeland the other evening. As you must have observed, he is fanatical in his cause and cannot see any other point of view. I am afraid he will wait until I do speak to him, and to tell you the truth, I would rather my daughter did not meet with him again, as she may do if I do not see him straightaway.” There was tenderness and exasperation in his face. “She is very young and full of ideals. She is rather like he is. She can see the justice of only one cause, and nothing at all of any other.”
    “By all means see him,” Monk agreed, rising to his feet. “I can very easily wait. I really have little to say anyway. I came because you asked me to report regardless.”
    Alberton smiled briefly. “Actually, I think that was rather more Robert than I, but I can see his purpose. One can feel helpless, out of control, if one has no idea what is happening. All the same, I should be obliged if you would remain while I see Breeland, if you would? Another presence here may calm his excess a trifle. I really thought I hadmade myself plain before.” He turned to the butler, who was still waiting patiently. “Yes, Hallows, ask Mr. Breeland to come in.”
    “Yes, sir.” Hallows withdrew obediently, but for an instant, before he masked it, his opinion of Breeland’s importunity was clear in his face. Monk imagined Hallows would wait well within call.
    Lyman Breeland appeared a moment later, as if he had been on the butler’s heels. He was dressed very formally in a dark, high-buttoned suit and well-cut boots with a fine polish.
    He was quite clearly disconcerted to see Monk