The Silent Cry (34 page)

"Did Monk betray you, sir?" he said aloud, then instantly wished he had not. He did not want to hear any of it. Now it was unavoidable.

Runcorn stared at him.

"Yes, he betrayed me. I trusted him, and he destroyed everything I ever wanted," he replied bitterly. "He saw the trap in front of me, and he watched me walk right into it.”

Evan drew in his breath to question how much it was fair to blame Monk for such a thing. Maybe he had not seen the pitfall any more than Runcorn himself had. Or maybe he had assumed Runcorn had seen it also.

Then he realised that not only was it pointless to argue over the letter when the spirit was what drove, but that in his heart Monk believed himself guilty.

"I see," he said quietly.

Runcorn faced him. "Do you? I doubt it. But I've done all I can. Go and arrest Rhys Duff. And don't mention anything about the other two men, do you hear me, Evan? I forbid it! You could jeopardise any chance we have of getting them in the future." His eyes betrayed the anger and frustration of his helplessness now. It scalded inside him to see them escape and know it could be for ever.

"Yes, sir. I understand." He turned and walked out, his mind already made up to take Monk with him when he went to Ebury Street. Monk had solved this case, and his own case too. He deserved to be there.

It was cold and growing dark as Monk, Evan and P.C. Shotts arrived in a cab at Ebury Street. Evan had considered taking the police wagon, and decided against it. Rhys was still too ill to be transported in such a vehicle, if he could be moved at all. The fear that he could not was the reason he had brought Shotts. He expected to leave him to guard and watch against the extreme event of Sylvestra trying to smuggle Rhys away.

The cab drew up and they alighted. Evan paid the cabby and, pulling his coat collar up, walked ahead of the other two across the pavement.

He had never made an arrest which gave him less sense of achievement. In fact now that his foot was on the step and his hand stretched towards the bell, he admitted he dreaded it. He knew that Monk, a yard behind him, felt the same, but Monk did so for Hester's sake. He had never met Rhys. He had not seen his face. To him he was only the sum of the evidence he had found, and above all the cause of pain in the women he had listened to, whose bruised lives he had witnessed.

The door opened and the butler's face darkened as soon as he recognised Evan.

"Yes, sir?" he said guardedly.

"I'm sorry," Evan began, then straightened his shoulders and continued.

"But I require to speak to Mrs. Duff. I am aware it may not be convenient, but I have no alternative.”

The butler looked beyond him to Monk and Shotts. His face was white.

"What is it, sir? Has there been another… incident?”

"No. Nothing further has happened, but we now understand more of what occurred the night of Mr. Duffs death. I am afraid we need to come in.”

The butler hesitated only a moment. He had caught the authority in Evan's voice and he knew suddenly the weight of his office.

"Yes, sir. If you will please follow me I shall inform Mrs. Duff you are here." He stood back for them to enter. Evan and Monk did so, leaving Shotts outside as previously agreed. He was there only as a precaution. He expected the possibility of remaining all night, until he was relieved by someone else in the morning. His only release lay in Rhys being deemed sufficiently well to be moved to a place of imprisonment pending his trial.

Inside the hall was warm and bright, a different world from the icy gloom of the street. The butler walked across towards the withdrawing room door.

"Wharmby," Evan said suddenly.

"Yes, sir?”

"Perhaps you had better ask Miss Latterly to come downstairs.”

"Sir?”

"It might be easier for Mrs. Duff to have someone else present, someone who can offer her some… assistance…”

Wharmby turned even paler. He swallowed so his throat jerked.

"I'm sorry…" Evan repeated.

"What… what have you come for, sir?" Wharmby asked.

"To tell Mrs. Duff what we know of how Mr. Duff met his death, and then the duty which follows from that. Tell her we are here, and then please ask Miss Latterly to come.”

Wharmby pulled his jacket down and straightened his back, then opened the withdrawing room door.

"Mr. Evan is here to see you, ma'am, and another gentleman with him.”

He said no more but backed out again, gave Evan one more look, then went to the stairs, leaving them to go in alone.

Sylvestra was standing on the carpet in front of the fire. Naturally she was still dressed in black, with dark hair piled in a great coil on the back of her head and falling to her neck. In the firelight she looked beautiful with her high cheekbones and slender throat.

"Yes, Mr. Evan. What is it?" she asked with a slight surprise arching her brows. She looked beyond him to Monk.

Evan introduced them briefly, without explanation.

"Good evening, Mr. Monk…" she did no more than acknowledge him.

"Ma'am," he inclined his head. To have wished her 'good evening' in return would have been a mockery. He closed the door and came further into the room.

Evan wished there were any way whatever to escape this moment. He was acutely conscious of Monk standing at his shoulder, his mind filled with the cruelty whose results he had seen, the rage smouldering inside him.

"Yes, Mrs. Duff. We have learned a great deal of what happened the night your husband was killed. First I would like to ask you one or two last questions." He ignored the looked of astonishment on her face, and Monk shifting from one foot to the other behind him. "Did Mr. Duff express to you, or in any way show anxiety as to what Mr.

Rhys was doing during the evenings he was away from home, or the company he was keeping?”

"Yes… you know he did. I told you so myself.”

"Did he indicate, either in words or by his behaviour, that he had learned anything recently which troubled him additionally.”

"No! At least, he said nothing to me. Why?" Her tone was getting sharper. "Will you please be plain with me, Mr. Evan? Have you discovered what my husband was doing in St. Giles, or not? I told you when you first came here that I believed he had followed Rhys to try to reason with him about the type of young woman he was associating with.

Are you telling me that is true?" She lifted her chin a little, almost as if challenging him. "That hardly warrants your coming here, with Mr. Monk, at this hour.”

"We also believe we know how he met his death, Mrs. Duff, and we must act accordingly," Evan replied. He had not intended to be cruel, but he realised that by stretching out what he had to say, he was doing so.

A swift blow was better in the end. "We have witnesses who saw Rhys several times in St. Giles, sometimes with others, sometimes alone.

One young woman places him there that evening…”

"Obviously he was there that evening, Mr. Evan," Sylvestra cut across him. "What you are telling me we already know. It is obvious!”

Monk could bear it no longer. He stepped forward into the circle of candlelight from the shadows, his face grim.

"I have been investigating a series of violent rapes, Mrs. Duff. They were committed by three men together. They raped women, sometimes as young as twelve or thirteen years old, then beat them, breaking their bones, kicking them… sometimes into insensibility Her face registered her horror. She stared at him as if he had risen out of the ground, carrying the stench of terror and pain with him.

"The last of the rapes was committed in St. Giles the night your husband was murdered in the same manner," he said very quietly. "It is impossible to escape the evidence he followed Rhys to St. Giles, and caught up with him immediately after the crime was committed. It happened less than fifty yards from the spot where his body was found.”

She was ashen pale. "What… are… you… saying…?" she whispered.

"We have come to arrest Rhys Duff for the murder of his father, Leighton Duff," Monk answered her. "There is no choice.”

"You cannot take him away!" It was Hester. Neither of them had heard her come in behind them. "He is too ill to be moved. If you doubt my word, Dr. Wade will attest to it. I have sent a message for him to come immediately." She glanced at Sylvestra. "I thought his presence might be necessary.”

"Oh, thank God!" Sylvestra swayed for a moment, but regained her composure. "This… this is… absurd! Rhys would… not…”

She looked from Evan to Hester. "Could… he?”

"I don't know," Hester said gravely, coming right into the room. "But whatever the truth of it is, he cannot be taken away from here tonight, or within the near future. He may be charged, but he is not yet proven guilty of anything. To move him from proper medical care might jeopardise his life, and that cannot be permitted.”

"I am aware of his state of health," Evan responded. "If Dr. Wade says he cannot be moved, then I shall leave a constable on duty outside." He turned to Sylvestra. "He will not intrude upon you unless you give him cause to believe you plan to move Mr. Duff yourself. If that should happen, he will naturally arrest him immediately, and place him in prison.”

Sylvestra was speechless.

"That will not happen," Hester spoke for her. "He will remain here, in Dr. Wade's care… and mine.”

Sylvestra nodded her assent.

"I will go up to inform him of his situation," Evan said, turning towards the door.

Hester stood in front of him. For a moment he was afraid she was going to try to bar his way physically, but after an instant's hesitation she went to the door ahead of him.

"I shall come with you. He may need some… help. I…" She met his eyes with both challenge and pleading. "I intend to be there, Sergeant Evan. What you say will cause him great distress, and he is still very weak.”

"Of course," he agreed. "I am not trying to cause him harm.”

She turned and led the way across the hall. It seemed Monk intended to remain with Sylvestra. Perhaps he thought he could elicit some information from her where Evan had failed. He might be right.

Hester went up the stairs and across the landing, opening the door to Rhys's room, then as soon as she was inside, standing away so Evan could face the bed.

Rhys was lying on his back, his broken hands on the covers. He was simply staring at the ceiling. He was propped up on sufficient pillows to be able to meet Evan's eyes without discomfort. He looked surprised to see him, but the blue bruising was gone and the swelling had entirely disappeared. He was a handsome young man, in an unconventional way, nose a little too long, mouth too sensitive, dark eyes dominating his white face.

Evan was reminded sickeningly of when he had found him. He felt responsible. He had been part of willing him to live, bringing him back from the brink of darkness and into this white light of pain. He should have been able to protect him somehow. It was his duty to find a better answer than this.

"Mr. Duff," he began with a dry mouth. He swallowed and felt worse.

"We have traced your movements on the night your father was killed, and on at least three other nights before that. You regularly went to St.

Giles, and there used the services of a prostitute, in fact several prostitutes…”

Rhys stared at him. A faint flush coloured his cheeks. It embarrassed him that that sort of thing should be mentioned in front of Hester, it was plain in his eyes, the way he glanced at her and away again.

"On the night in question, a woman was raped and beaten…" Evan stopped. Rhys had gone ashen, almost grey-faced, and his eyes were filled with such horror Evan was afraid he was suffering some kind of seizure.

Hester moved towards him, then stopped.

The room seemed to roar with the silence. The lights flickered. A coal fell in the fire.

"Rhys Duff… I am arresting you for the murder of Leighton Duff, on the night of January seventh, 1860, in Water Lane, St. Giles." It would be a cruel brutality to warn him that anything he said might be used in evidence at his trial. He could say nothing, no defence, no explanation, no denial.

Hester swung in front of him and sat on the bed between them, taking Rhys's hands in her own and turning him to look at her.

"Did you do it, Rhys?" she demanded, pulling his arms, hurting him to break the spell.

He looked at her. He made a choking sound in his throat almost like a laugh, the tears spilled over his cheeks and he shook his head, a little at first then more and more violently till he was thrashing from side to side, still making the desperate, tearing sounds in his throat.

Hester stood up and faced Evan.

"All right, Sergeant, you have fulfilled your duty. Mr. Duff has heard your charge, and he has told you he is not guilty. If you wish to wait for Dr. Wade to confirm that he is too ill to be moved, you may do so downstairs, perhaps in the morning room. Mrs. Duff may also need to be alone…”

"It will not be necessary to wait.”

Evan swung round to find Corriden Wade behind him looking exhausted, hollow-cheeked, but absolutely unflinching.

"Good evening, Dr. Wade…”

"Hardly," Wade said drily. "I have been fearing this would happen, but now that it has, I must inform you, officially in my capacity as Rhys's physician, that he is not well enough to be moved. If you do so you may jeopardise not only his recovery, but possibly even his life. And I must remind you that you have made a charge, but you have not yet proved it. Before the law he is still an innocent man.”

"I know that, Dr. Wade," Evan answered calmly. "I have no intention of forcing the issue. I shall leave a constable on duty outside the house. I came only to inform Mr. Duff of the charge, not to attempt to take him into custody.”

Wade relaxed a little. "Good. Good. I'm sorry if I was a little hasty. You must understand it is extremely distressing for me on a personal level, as well as professional. I have been a friend of the family for many years. I feel their tragedies very keenly.”

"I know that," Evan conceded. "I wish my errand were something other.”

"I'm sure." Wade nodded, then walked past him into the room, glancing at Hester with a look of quick appreciation. "Thank you, Miss Latterly, for your pan. I am sure you have been of great strength. I shall remain with Rhys for a while, to make sure the shock of this has not affected him too seriously. Perhaps you would be good enough to be of what comfort you may to Mrs. Duff. I shall be down very shortly.”