She seemed disposed to linger and Reggie spoke to her sharply. With a look of hurt dignity she swept out, which was an accomplishment, since she was wearing a short skirt and pinafore. Pitt closed the door.
“I apologize,” Reggie said affably. “The child is a menace.” He looked at Pitt’s face and his quaint, rather untidy attire. He made an instant decision to assume an air of frankness, and try to enlist the man as an ally, or at least a confidant. “Children so easily misunderstand,” he went on with a smile. “As indeed do a lot of people. Still, I expect as a man of experience, you’ve seen a lot of life, and you know truth from error when you see it. Have a glass of brandy?” Pity to use the best brandy on a policeman who probably would not know it from the stuff they sold at alehouses. But it might be a good investment in the long event.
Pitt hesitated, made a rapid decision, and accepted.
“Sit down,” Reggie offered expansively. “Wretched business. Don’t envy you. Must be damned hard to sift the truth from all the inventions.”
Pitt smiled slowly, taking the brandy from him.
”Maids bound to spin a few stories,” Reggie continued. “Natural thing. Read too many penny novels, too much imagination. Never realize the damage it can do.”
Pitt raised his eyebrows inquiringly and sipped at the brandy.
Reggie decided to press home the point while the fellow seemed so agreeable. Better to set him straight in advance of any gossip he might hear belowstairs, where he would undoubtedly go in time.
“Easy to understand,” he elaborated in an attempt at jocularity without obvious condescension. “Poor creatures haven’t a lot of excitement, I suppose. A man of intelligence would be bored to death. Bound to embroider the truth a little, eh?”
“Could be mischievous,” Pitt agreed, his clear eyes smiling back at Reggie.
Nice fellow, Reggie thought. Should not be too difficult to steer him into dismissing any unpleasant tales he might hear.
“Quite,” he agreed. “I can see that you understand. Must have run into it before, I daresay. Had this kind of thing happened often?”
Pitt took another sip of his brandy.
“Not quite like this. Not in a square of this-quality.”
“No-no, I suppose not. Thank goodness, eh? Still, I expect you’ve run across servant girls who’ve got themselves into trouble before now, eh, what?” he laughed.
Pitt looked blandly back at him; for a man with so remarkably expressive a face, he now conveyed almost nothing.
“All sorts of people with problems,” he agreed.
“Ah, but you know what sort of trouble I mean.” Reggie wondered for an instant if the man were foolish. Perhaps he had better be more explicit. “Babies must be some servant girl’s who got herself with child and the fellow wouldn’t marry her; or perhaps she didn’t even know who he was, eh?”
Pitt opened his eyes a little wider.
“Any girls of that sort of character in your establishment, sir?”
“Good God, no!” Reggie stiffened indignantly, then realized with a flash of anger that he had just defeated his own purpose. “I mean, not that I know of, of course. But it only takes one mistake! Perhaps a girl who entertains romantic notions, thinks to better herself, or-oh, well!” he broke off, not quite sure what to suggest next.
“You think that such a girl might-” Pitt chose just the right phrase “-put her daydreams into words, and inadvertently cause mischief?”
“Quite!” Reggie pounced on it. At last the fellow seemed to have grasped the point. “Exactly! You take my meaning to a nicety. Could be embarrassing, don’t you see?”
“Oh very,” Pitt agreed. “Very difficult to disprove, too,” he smiled guilelessly and Reggie felt sharply uncomfortable. There was a very ugly truth in it.
“There must be laws against that sort of-irresponsibility!” he said hotly. “A decent person must be able to protect himself!”
“Oh, there are,” Pitt affirmed smoothly. “Slander, and all that. Always take it to court.”
“Court! Don’t be preposterous, man! Whoever heard of a man taking his servant girl to court because she said he slept with her! You’d be the laughingstock of society!”
“Probably because in many cases it would be true,” Pitt looked at the bronze-colored brandy in his glass. “And no one would believe you were one of the innocent: nor, I suppose, would they greatly care.”
Reggie felt the sweat break out on his body and turn cold.
“There must be a law, a way, something to prevent it! It’s monstrous! You can’t ruin a man just like that!” he snapped his fingers furiously and the soft flesh refused to click. “Damn!” he swore in frustration.
“I agree,” Pitt swallowed the last of his brandy and set the glass down. “One must be very careful indeed when one uses another’s good name. The damage done can be incalculable, and there can be financial redress, but there is no undoing it.”
Reggie gathered control of himself, at least on the surface.
“I shall certainly dismiss without reference or character any servant I find speaking loosely or spreading malicious gossip,” he said with absolute decision.
“Without a character,” Pitt repeated, and there was a bitterness in his face Reggie was at a loss to understand. Peculiar fellow. Bit unreliable.
“Certainly,” Reggie agreed. “Man or woman who behaves like that is a menace, not fit to employ. Still, suppose you know that. Must have run into slander before, eh? After all, it is a crime, and crime is your livelihood, what?”
Pitt did not argue. Instead he asked permission to speak to the servants again, and when it was granted, took his leave. It did not occur to Reggie until the evening, long after Pitt had gone, to wonder what Pitt had wanted to see him for in the first place. Perhaps the blighter just saw the brandy and the fire and fancied a few minutes’ relaxation. The working classes were often the same, give them a chance to idle and they’d take it with both hands. Still, couldn’t blame them entirely. Their life was gray enough. He would have done the same.
After dinner the thought bothered him still more. What had the wretched fellow come about? Was it possible he had already heard some gossip? Got to kill this thing before it got underway. That sort of accusation, in the wrong quarters, could make him look ridiculous, a figure of jest. To take a toss with one’s parlormaid was perfectly accepted, probably half of London did it; but to have it a subject of talk was quite another thing. Discretion and good taste were the cornerstones of a gentleman’s conduct. There were certain functions which everyone knew about and no one discussed. Relieving one’s appetites with the servants was one of them. To do so was normal, part of the natural man: to be supposed to do so was not worthy of comment; but to be known to do so from other sources than one’s own innuendos was to be a figure of ribaldry and contempt. It was worse than that, it was bad taste.
Better nip this thing in the bud. It was a pleasant enough evening, for late November. He decided to walk across the corner of the square and see Freddie Bolsover. Good fellow, Freddie; man of sense. Still, suppose doctors usually were; knew the facts of things, the inner man, no dressing it up, what?
He found Freddie sitting in his withdrawing room listening to Sophie play the piano. He stood up quickly, smiling when Reggie came in. He was a tall, slender young man with fair face, good features in a well-bred way. He complemented Sophie nicely.
“Reggie, nice to see you. Nothing wrong, I hope. You look well enough.”
“Oh fine, fine,” Reggie grasped his hand for a moment, then let it go. “Evening, Sophie, my dear,” he kissed her high up the arm, squeezing it a little. Handsome piece, in her own way, nice hair, better than Adelina’s, although her body was a bit bony round the shoulders, not enough bosom for Reggie’s taste. “How about you?” he added as an afterthought.
“Oh, very well,” Sophie answered and Freddie nodded agreement.
“Got a bit of a problem in another area, old fellow.” Reggie glanced very slightly at Sophie to indicate it was a masculine affair and she should be politely dismissed.