Pitt felt as if he had been struck. The sting of Stoker’s words was hard enough to have been physical. He would rather it had been.
‘I see,’ Croxdale sighed. ‘And what is the state of affairs in Dublin at present?’
‘Mr Narraway is in prison accused of murdering Cormac O’Neil,’ Stoker answered.
‘Murder!’ Croxdale looked aghast.
Pitt’s thoughts were in disarray. The Narraway he knew was not a murderer. And what of Charlotte? Was she now alone and frightened? Yet Pitt could not ask Stoker.
‘It seems he quarrelled with him rather publicly, making no secret of the fact he believed O’Neil to be responsible for creating the evidence that made it seem he was guilty of embezzling the money intended for Mulhare. And to be honest, that could well be true.’
‘Could it?’ Croxdale asked, a lift of hope in his voice.
‘From what I can make out, yes, sir, it could,’ Stoker replied. ‘Only problem is how he got the information he’d need to get it into Mr Narraway’s account. I’ve been trying to find the answer to that, and I think I’ll get there.’
‘Someone at Lisson Grove?’ Croxdale said.
‘No, sir,’ Stoker answered without a flicker in his face. ‘Not as far as I can see.’
Croxdale’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then who? Who else would be able to do that?’
Stoker did not hesitate. ‘Looks like it could be someone at Mr Narraway’s bank, sir. I dare say one time and another he’s made some enemies. Or it could just be someone willing to be paid. Nice to think that wouldn’t happen, but maybe a bit innocent. There’d be those with enough money to buy most things.’
‘I suppose so,’ Croxdale replied. ‘Perhaps Narraway found out already? That would explain a great deal. What other news have you from Ireland?’
Stoker told him about Narraway’s connections, who he had spoken to and their reactions, the confrontation with O’Neil at the concert. Never once did he mention Charlotte. At least some of what he described was so unlike Narraway — panicky and protective — that it seemed as if his whole character had fallen apart.
Pitt listened with disbelief and mounting anger at what he felt had to be a betrayal.
‘Thank you, Stoker,’ Croxdale said sadly. ‘A tragic end to what was a fine career. Give your report on Ireland to Mr Pitt.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Stoker left, and Croxdale turned to Pitt. ‘I think that makes the picture clearer. Gower was the traitor, which I admit I still find hard to credit, but what you say makes it impossible to deny.We may have the disaster contained, but we can’t take it for granted. Investigate as fully as you can, Pitt, and report to me. Keep an eye to what’s going on in Europe, and if there is anything we should inform the French about, then we’ll do so. In the meantime there’s plenty of other political trouble to keep us busy, but I’m sure you know that.’ He rose to his feet, extending his hand. ‘Take care of yourself, Pitt. You have a difficult and dangerous job, and your country needs you more than it will ever appreciate.’
Pitt shook his hand and thanked him, going out into the night without any awareness of the sudden chill. The coldness was already inside him. Narraway arrested for murder — it seemed unbelievable! What Stoker had said of Narraway’s bank betraying him could be true, although he did not believe it. The rest seemed a curious set of exaggerations and lies. Pitt could not accept that Narraway had fallen apart so completely, either to steal anything in the first place, or to so lose the fundamental values of his past as to behave in the way Stoker had described. And surely Stoker must at the very least have noticed Charlotte?
Or was Stoker the traitor at Lisson Grove?
He was floundering, like a man in quicksand. None of his judgements was sound. He had trusted Stoker, he had even liked Gower. Narraway he would have sworn his own life on. . He admitted, he still would do.
Croxdale’s carriage was waiting to take him home. He half saw the shadow of a man on the pavement who moved towards him, but he ignored it. The coachman opened the door for him and he climbed in, sitting miserable and shivering all the way back to Keppel Street. He was glad it was late. He did not want to make the intense effort it would cost to hide his disillusion from Daniel and Jemima. If he were fortunate, even Minnie Maude would be asleep.
In the morning he was halfway to Lisson Grove when he changed his mind and went instead to see Vespasia. It was too early for any kind of social call, but if he had to wait until she rose, then he was willing to. His need to speak with her was so urgent he was prepared to break all the rules of etiquette, even of consideration, trusting she would see his purpose beyond his discourtesy.
In fact she was already up and taking breakfast. He accepted tea, but he had no need to eat.
‘Is your new maid feeding you properly?’Vespasia asked with a touch of concern.
‘Yes,’ he answered, his own surprise coming through his voice. ‘Actually, she’s perfectly competent, and seems very pleasant. It wasn’t. .’ He saw her wry smile and stopped.
‘It wasn’t to seek recommendation for a new maid that you came at this hour of the morning,’ she finished for him. ‘What is it, Thomas? You look very troubled indeed. I assume something new has occurred?’
He told her everything that had happened since they last spoke, including Narraway’s arrest for murder and Pitt’s own dismay and disappointment over Stoker’s sudden change of loyalties, and the brutal details with which he had described Narraway’s falling apart.
‘I seem to be completely incompetent at judging anyone’s character,’ he said miserably. He would like to have been able to say it with some dry wit, but he felt so inadequate that he was afraid he sounded self-pitying.
Vespasia listened without interrupting. She poured him more tea, then grimaced that the pot was cold.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said quickly. ‘I don’t need more.’
‘Let us sum up the situation,’ she said gravely. ‘It would seem unarguable that you were wrong about Gower, as was everyone else at Lisson Grove, including Victor Narraway. It does not make you unusually fallible, my dear. And considering that he was your fellow in the service, you had a right to assume his loyalty. At that point it was not your job to make such decisions. Now it is.’
‘I thought Stoker was Narraway’s man too,’ he pointed out.
‘Possibly, but let us not leap to conclusions. You know only that he brought news of Victor’s arrest, and that what he reported to Gerald Croxdale about the embezzlement charge seemed to blame Victor, and also was untrue in other respects. He made no mention of Charlotte, as you observed, and yet he must have seen her. Surely his omission is one you are grateful for?’
‘Yes. . yes, of course. Although I would give a great deal to know she is safe.’ That was an understatement perhaps only Vespasia could measure.
‘Did you say anything to Croxdale about your suspicions of Austwick?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He explained how reluctant he had been to give any unnecessary trust. He had guarded everything, fearing that because Croxdale had known Austwick a long time perhaps he would be more inclined to trust him than to trust Pitt.
‘Very wise,’ she agreed. ‘Is Croxdale of the opinion that there is something very serious being planned in France?’
‘I saw nothing except a couple of faces,’ he answered. ‘And when I look back, it was Gower who told me they were Meister and Linsky. There was talk, but no more than usual. There was a rumour that Jean Jaures was coming from Paris, but he didn’t.’
Vespasia frowned. ‘Jacob Meister and Pieter Linsky? Are you sure?’
‘Yes, that’s what Gower said. I know the names, of course. But only for just one day, maybe thirty-six hours, then they left again. They certainly didn’t return to Frobisher’s.’