William Monk 13 - Death of a Stranger

change her mind. She stood up and, carrying her toast with her, went to speak to Fanny as if the whole matter were settled and there could be nothing more to discuss.

    The morning was bright and chilly again, and Hester dressed smartly in a plain dark blue dress and coat. She took a hansom to Vere Street to be there just before nine. She knew Margaret would be on time, and trembling with tension. She cared for her feelings, but apart from that, she did not wish to give her any opportunity to retreat.
    Actually, Margaret was late, and Hester had begun to pace up and down the pavement anxiously. At last the hansom drew up and Margaret, beautifully dressed, scrambled out with less grace than usual.
    “I’m sorry!” she said hastily after paying the driver. “The traffic was terrible. Somebody clashed wheels and broke an axle in Trafalgar Square, and they started shouting at each other. What a mess. Are we . . .”
    “Yes,” Hester replied, too relieved to be angry. “We are! Come on!” And she took Margaret by the arm and entered Rathbone’s chambers.
    They were too early, as Hester expected they would be. She was immensely relieved simply to find that Rathbone was not due in court that morning, and if they waited, there was an excellent chance he would be able to see them after his first client, who was due at half past nine, exactly the time the clerk expected Rathbone himself.
    As it transpired, they were invited to go into his office shortly after ten o’clock, but Hester had the feeling that had Margaret not been with her he might have kept her waiting longer.
    Rathbone came forward to greet them, hesitating an instant as to which of them he should speak to first. It was so slight Hester barely saw it, but she knew him far better than Margaret did, and she had not mistaken it. He addressed Hester, because of their long friendship, but he had wanted to go to Margaret.
    “Hester, how pleasant to see you,” he said with a smile. “Even if I am perfectly sure that at this time in the morning you must have come on business, no doubt to do with your house in Coldbath Square.” He turned to Margaret. “Good morning, Miss Ballinger.” There was the very faintest flush on his cheeks. “I am glad you were able to come also, although I am afraid I have not yet thought of any way in which your usurer can be stopped by the law. And believe me, I have tried.”
    Margaret smiled back at him, meeting his eyes with candor, and then suddenly realizing how bold she was and moderating her gaze. “I am sure you have done all that could be . . .” she started, then stopped. “We have thought about it a great deal also, and certain events have changed matters considerably. Hester will tell you; it is her idea . . . although I do heartily agree.”
    Rathbone turned to Hester with his eyebrows raised and a distinct look of apprehension in his face as he invited them to be seated. He turned to Hester. “Well?”
    She knew time was limited and she must not waste words or choose the wrong ones. There would be little opportunity to retrieve a mistake. She was prepared to risk a touch of overstatement. If she was wrong she could apologize later. She plunged in.
    “I know who the usurer is . . . was,” she stated with assurance. “It was a partnership, one man who found the young women and lent them the money, the other who actually ran the brothel and did the day-to-day management of affairs. He collected the repayments and exacted the punishment if they were late. It is the one who did the lending who is dead,” she added.
    “Then is the business ended?” he asked, doubt in his face. “Will he not find another usurer, or plan that part of it himself?”
    “He can’t take it over himself,” she answered. “He has not the skills, nor has he the opportunity to meet the sort of young women most vulnerable. He is a brothel-keeper, and he looks and sounds like one.” She leaned forward a little. “What he needs, desperately at the moment, is someone who appears to be a gentleman but who has business ability and a degree of charm to deceive young women in debt into borrowing from him in the belief that they can repay with money honestly earned.” She watched him carefully to make sure she was putting the case clearly and yet not so obviously that he was ahead of her, and would refuse before she had had the opportunity to explain the whole plan.
    “I expect he will find one,” he said, his face filled with the