felt a chill foreboding. But she spoke as calmly as she could.
‘His answer can only have been that he did see his Master dead,’ she replied. ‘He came out of the library, and he told me that Mr Thackerton had been stabbed. He said that he had been murdered.’
‘Did he now? Did he indeed? And I suppose that you have witnesses for that assertion?’
‘You know very well that, apart from Joseph, no one else was there.’
‘Yes, indeed. I do know that. I know it very well, and I know too that Joseph said nothing to me about “stabbed” and “murdered”. Nothing at all did he say.’
With the sense of foreboding gathering within her like some rapidly darkening storm cloud Miss Unwin turned to her sugar-mouse thief of not so long ago.
‘Joseph,’ she said sharply. ‘Tell the Sergeant exactly what you said to me outside the library door.’
‘Outside the library door, miss?’
She saw a quick flash of Joseph’s long teeth.
‘Yes, you know very well where I mean, and when. Tell the Sergeant, tell us all, exactly what it was that you said to me.’
‘Why, I’m not sure as how I can recollect exactly, miss.’
It was then that Miss Unwin felt as if the darkening storm cloud had burst in a chilling downpour.
Joseph was not going to say that he had seen Mr Thackerton dead. This was to be his revenge for her having caught him out over his ridiculous thefts. A petty revenge. But one that could be terribly serious for her.
‘Come,’ she said, drawing on her courage once more. ‘Come, did you or did you not say to me: “The Master’s dead, miss, stabb.’”
‘Stop!’
Sergeant Drewd had jumped in front of her and was holding up his hand as if he was ready to catch a bolting thoroughbred by the bridle.
‘Not one word more, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Not one word more. You were about to put a reply into the mouth of a witness. Now, I won’t have that. That I will not have. Let the man say what he has got to say of his own free will. That’s the way Sergeant Drewd goes about obtaining evidence, and that’s the way Her Majesty’s Judges in their wisdom like to hear evidence given.’
Miss Unwin took half a step backwards.
‘Very well, Sergeant,’ she said, ‘if that is what you want.’
‘It is what I want. And it is what Her Majesty’s Judges want. So let that be the way they are going to get it.’
Despondency settled on Miss Unwin then, sullen and resistant to any sun as black ice.
What Her Majesty’s Judges want
. Could it really be that she was in danger of appearing before one of those Judges? That she was going to find herself charged with murder? Impossible. She was innocent. She had not – she had not – plunged that Italian paper-knife into Mr Thackerton’s throat. Yet was innocence enough to prevent that charge being made against her? She hoped, she prayed, that if she did find herself charged with this terrible crime her innocence would at the last shine through. But simple reasoning told her that mere innocence might not be enough to prevent the charge being made if Sergeant Drewd, that formidably sure-of-himself figure, had got it into his head that he had in one short hour of triumphant questioning discovered William Thackerton’s murderer.
It seemed, too, that he was convinced. There was a look of unmistakable joy in his quick-darting eyes.
He was turning back to Joseph now.
‘Well, my man, since the lady is no longer putting words into your mouth, let’s hear what you’ve got to say. Did you see William Thackerton Esquire dead in his library before Miss Unwin entered that room, or not?’
Joseph lowered his gaze to the richly patterned carpet at his feet.
‘I will say no more than what I said in the cab, Sergeant,’ he answered. ‘No more and no less, so help me. And that is this: I cannot recollect seeing any paper-knife nor any dagger in the body of my Master when I entered the library of this his house in order to take him his nightcap which he took regular
‘His answer can only have been that he did see his Master dead,’ she replied. ‘He came out of the library, and he told me that Mr Thackerton had been stabbed. He said that he had been murdered.’
‘Did he now? Did he indeed? And I suppose that you have witnesses for that assertion?’
‘You know very well that, apart from Joseph, no one else was there.’
‘Yes, indeed. I do know that. I know it very well, and I know too that Joseph said nothing to me about “stabbed” and “murdered”. Nothing at all did he say.’
With the sense of foreboding gathering within her like some rapidly darkening storm cloud Miss Unwin turned to her sugar-mouse thief of not so long ago.
‘Joseph,’ she said sharply. ‘Tell the Sergeant exactly what you said to me outside the library door.’
‘Outside the library door, miss?’
She saw a quick flash of Joseph’s long teeth.
‘Yes, you know very well where I mean, and when. Tell the Sergeant, tell us all, exactly what it was that you said to me.’
‘Why, I’m not sure as how I can recollect exactly, miss.’
It was then that Miss Unwin felt as if the darkening storm cloud had burst in a chilling downpour.
Joseph was not going to say that he had seen Mr Thackerton dead. This was to be his revenge for her having caught him out over his ridiculous thefts. A petty revenge. But one that could be terribly serious for her.
‘Come,’ she said, drawing on her courage once more. ‘Come, did you or did you not say to me: “The Master’s dead, miss, stabb.’”
‘Stop!’
Sergeant Drewd had jumped in front of her and was holding up his hand as if he was ready to catch a bolting thoroughbred by the bridle.
‘Not one word more, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Not one word more. You were about to put a reply into the mouth of a witness. Now, I won’t have that. That I will not have. Let the man say what he has got to say of his own free will. That’s the way Sergeant Drewd goes about obtaining evidence, and that’s the way Her Majesty’s Judges in their wisdom like to hear evidence given.’
Miss Unwin took half a step backwards.
‘Very well, Sergeant,’ she said, ‘if that is what you want.’
‘It is what I want. And it is what Her Majesty’s Judges want. So let that be the way they are going to get it.’
Despondency settled on Miss Unwin then, sullen and resistant to any sun as black ice.
What Her Majesty’s Judges want
. Could it really be that she was in danger of appearing before one of those Judges? That she was going to find herself charged with murder? Impossible. She was innocent. She had not – she had not – plunged that Italian paper-knife into Mr Thackerton’s throat. Yet was innocence enough to prevent that charge being made against her? She hoped, she prayed, that if she did find herself charged with this terrible crime her innocence would at the last shine through. But simple reasoning told her that mere innocence might not be enough to prevent the charge being made if Sergeant Drewd, that formidably sure-of-himself figure, had got it into his head that he had in one short hour of triumphant questioning discovered William Thackerton’s murderer.
It seemed, too, that he was convinced. There was a look of unmistakable joy in his quick-darting eyes.
He was turning back to Joseph now.
‘Well, my man, since the lady is no longer putting words into your mouth, let’s hear what you’ve got to say. Did you see William Thackerton Esquire dead in his library before Miss Unwin entered that room, or not?’
Joseph lowered his gaze to the richly patterned carpet at his feet.
‘I will say no more than what I said in the cab, Sergeant,’ he answered. ‘No more and no less, so help me. And that is this: I cannot recollect seeing any paper-knife nor any dagger in the body of my Master when I entered the library of this his house in order to take him his nightcap which he took regular
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