Cyprian's face closed. "It would seem so. I'm sorry I cannot help you any further, but I really have no idea what such a thing could be, or about whom.''
“You have made the picture much clearer with your candor. Thank you, sir." Monk bowed very slightly, and after Cyprian's acknowledgment, took his leave. He walked back along the Serpentine to Hyde Park Corner, but this time going briskly up Constitution Hill towards Buckingham Palace and St. James's.
It was the middle of the afternoon when he met Sir Basil, who was coming across the Horse Guards Parade from Whitehall. He looked startled to see Monk.
"Have you something to report?" he said rather abruptly. He was dressed in dark city trousers and a frock coat seamed at the waist as was the latest cut. His top hat was tall and straight sided, and worn elegantly a little to one side on his head.
"Not yet, sir," Monk answered, wondering what he had expected so soon. "I have a few questions to ask."
Basil frowned. "That could not have waited until I was at home? I do not appreciate being accosted in the street, Inspector."
Monk made no apology. "Some information about the servants which I cannot obtain from the butler."
"There is none," Basil said frostily. "It is the butler's job to employ the servants and to interview them and evaluate their references. If I did not believe he was competent to do it, I should replace him."
"Indeed." Already Monk was stung by his tone of voice and the sharp, chilly look in his eyes, as if Monk's ignorance were no more than he expected. "But were there any disciplining to do, would you not be made aware of it?''
"I doubt it, unless it concerned a member of the family- which, I presume, is what you are suggesting?" Basil replied. "Mere impertinences or tardiness would be dealt with by Phillips, or in the female servants' case, by the housekeeper, or the cook. Dishonesty or moral laxity would incur dismissal, and Phillips would engage a replacement. I would know about that. But surely you did not follow me to Westminster to ask me such paltry things, which you could have asked the butler- or anyone else in the house!"
"I cannot expect the same degree of truth from anyone else in the house, sir," Monk snapped back tartly. "Since one of them is responsible for Mrs. Haslett's death, they may be somewhat partisan in the matter."
Basil glared at him, the wind catching at the tails of his jacket and sending them flapping. He took his high hat off to save the indignity of having it blown askew.
“What do you imagine they would lie about to you and have the remotest chance of getting by with it?" he said with an edge of sarcasm.
Monk ignored the question.
"Any personal relationships between your staff, sir?" he asked instead. "Footmen and maids, for example? The butler and one of the ladies' maids-bootboy and scullery maid?"
Basil's black eyes widened in disbelief.
"Good God! Do you imagine I have the slightest idea-or any interest in the romantic daydreams of my servants, Inspector? You seem to live in a quite different world from the one I inhabit-or men like me."
Monk was furious and he did not even attempt to curb his tongue.
"Do I take it, Sir Basil, that you would have no concern if your male and female servants have liaisons with each other," he said sarcastically. "In twos-or threes-or whatever? You are quite right-it is a different world. The middle classes are obsessed with preventing such a thing."
The insolence was palpable, and for a moment Sir Basil's temper flashed close to violence, but he was apparently aware that he had invited such a comment, because he moderated his reply uncharacteristically. It was merely contemptuous.
"I find it hard to believe you can maintain your position, such as it is, and be as stupid as you pretend. Of course I should forbid anything of the sort, and dismiss any staff so involved instantly and without reference."
"And if there were such an involvement, presumably it is possible Mrs. Haslett might have become aware of it?" Monk asked blandly, aware of their mutual dislike and both their reasons for masking it.
He was surprised how quickly Basil's expression lightened, something almost like a smile coming to his lips.
“I suppose she might,'' he agreed, grasping the idea.”Yes, women are observant of such things. They notice inflections we are inclined to miss. Romance and its intrigue form a much greater part in their lives than they do of ours. It would be natural."
Monk appeared as innocent as he was capable.
"What do you suppose she might have discovered on her trip in the afternoon that affected her so deeply she spoke to Mr. Thirsk of it?" he asked. "Was there a servant for whom she had a particular regard?''
Basil was temporarily confused. He struggled for an answer that would fit all the facts they knew.
"Her ladies' maid, I imagine. That is usual. Otherwise I am aware of no special regard," he said carefully. "And it seems she did not tell anyone where she went."
"What time off do the servants have?" Monk pursued. “Away from the house.''
"Half a day every other week," Basil replied immediately. "That is customary."
"Not a great deal for indulging in romance," Monk observed. "It would seem more probable that whatever it was took place in Queen Anne Street."
Sir Basil's black eyes were hard, and he slapped at his fluttering coattails irritably.
"If you are trying to say that there was something very
serious taking place in my house, of which I was unaware, indeed still am unaware, Inspector, then you have succeeded. Now if you can be as efficient in doing what you are paid for- and discover what it was-we shall all be most obliged. If there is nothing further, good day to you!"
Monk smiled. He had alarmed him, which was what he intended. Now Basil would go home and start demanding a lot of pertinent and inconvenient answers.
"Good day, Sir Basil." Monk tipped his hat very slightly, and turning on his heel, marched on towards Horse Guards Parade, leaving Basil standing on the grass with a face heavy with anger and hardening resolution.
Monk attempted to see Myles Kellard at the merchant bank where he held a position, but he had already left for the day. And he had no desire to see any of the household in Queen Anne Street, where he would be most unlikely to be uninterrupted by Sir Basil or Cyprian.
Instead he made a few inquiries of the doorman of Cyprian's club and learned almost nothing, except that he visited it frequently, and certainly gentlemen did have a flutter on cards or horses from time to time. He really could not say how much; it was hardly anyone else's concern. Gentlemen always settled their debts of honor, or they would be blackballed instantly, not only here but in all probability by every other club in town as well. No, he did not know Mr. Septimus Thirsk; indeed he had not heard that gentleman's name before.
Monk found Evan back at the police station and they compared the results of their day. Evan was tired, and although he had expected to learn little he was still discouraged that that was what had happened. There was a bubble of hope in him that always regarded the best of possibilities.
"Nothing you would call a romance," he said dispiritedly, sitting on the broad ledge of the windowsill in Monk's office. "Igatherfromoneofthelaundrymaids, Lizzie, that she thinks the bootboy had a yearning toward Dinah, the parlormaid, who is tall and fair with skin like cream and a waist you could put your hands 'round." His eyes widened as he visualized her in his memory. "And she's not yet had so much attention paid her that she's full of airs. But then that seems hardly worthy of comment. Both footmen and both grooms also admire her very heartily. I must admit, so did I." He smiled, robbing the remark of any seriousness. "Dinah is as yet unmoved in return. General opinion is that she will set her cap a good deal higher."