Campbell looked at him down his long nose.
“Yes, you’re in something of a spot, aren’t you?” He finished pouring the port at last and handed Reggie one. “Although I shouldn’t think anyone could connect you with Helena,” he hesitated, “could they?”
“No!”
“Then I don’t know why you’re so excited. What can Freddie say? That he thinks you had a bit of a toss with your parlormaid? That’s hardly damning. And how in hell would he know, anyway? Does he listen to kitchen gossip? You were a fool to pay.”
Reggie squirmed in his chair. It was Dolly and her death after the wretched abortion that he was frightened of-Mary Ann was neither here nor there, as Campbell had said. He looked at Campbell now, standing in the middle of the room, broad-shouldered, solid-bellied, a slight sneer on his face. He was clever, Reggie knew that, he had always known it; it was one of those obvious things, inescapable. But dare he trust him? He had to have help from someone. Freddie had to be stopped, otherwise he would rob him of everything that made life of value! Feed off him, like some disgusting animal, take all his comfort, and he could end up a frightened wreck drinking soda water and eating bread and mincemeat. He would sooner be dead!
He did not know how to begin.
Campbell was waiting, staring at him, his eyes still smiling.
“It’s rather more than that,” Reggie began. “They might think-”
Campbell’s mouth twisted at the corners.
“-I mean,” Reggie tried again, “other maids, they might-” Damn the man. Why would he not understand?
“-they might think you had something to do with Dolly’s death?” Campbell finished for him.
Reggie felt the ice run through him as if his valet had accidentally run him a cold bath.
Campbell was looking at him with a cynical amusement.
“Yes, that could be embarrassing,” he said thoughtfully. “Freddie was the doctor called in, wasn’t he? Yes, he could probably tell the police precisely what happened. And I suppose he might well feel excused of his usual obligations of silence,” he coughed, “under the circumstances. Perhaps you were right to pay, after all.”
“God damn it!” Reggie heaved himself out of the chair onto his feet till he stood facing Campbell. “That’s no help! What am I going to do?”
Campbell stuck out his lower lip.
“Keep control of yourself, for a start. I agree entirely, old boy. It’s bad: very bad. No idea Freddie had it in him.”
“He’s a complete outsider,” Reggie said bitterly. “A bounder.”
“Doubtless, but that only means he’s the nerve and the wit to do what many others would, if they dared, and had thought of it. Don’t be such a hypocrite, Reggie. This is hardly the time to become self-righteous; apart from being a trifle ridiculous, it’s of no use.”
“Use?” Reggie was flabbergasted. Freddie was a total cad, and here was Campbell talking about it as if it were an everyday occurrence: a problem of logistics rather than an outrage.
“Yes, of course ‘use,’” Campbell said a little tartly. “You do want to prevent it continuing indefinitely, I take it? I thought that was why you came?”
“Yes, of course it is! But aren’t you shocked? I mean-Freddie!”
“It’s years since I’ve been shocked,” Campbell answered, holding his port glass up to the light and examining the color. “I am occasionally surprised; usually pleasantly, when I have expected the worst and it has not happened, when my luck has held longer than I thought likely. But most people who are honest are only so through lack of courage, or lack of imagination. Man is basically a selfish animal. Watch children some time, and you’ll see it very quickly. We’re all much the same, one hand out to grab what we can, and one eye over our shoulders to see who’s looking, and make sure we don’t have to pay for it. Freddie’s just rather better at it than I gave him credit for.”
“Never mind the philosophy, what in hell are we going to do about it?” Reggie demanded. “We can’t let him go on!”
“There’ll be nothing to go on to,” Campbell pointed out. “When the police either find out who is responsible, which I admit is unlikely, or give up, which I dare say they will, in another few weeks, that will be the end of it. After all, they can’t waste time indefinitely on some servant girl’s mistakes. It’s not as if anyone cared or as if discovering anything would make a ha’porth of difference to its happening over and over again into an infinite future precisely the same. Just keep your head. I’ll have a word with Freddie, warn him of the several nasty things that could happen to his practice, if he makes a habit of this.”
For the first time Reggie felt a spark of hope: sane, rational hope. If Campbell spoke to Freddie, he might realize he could not go on demanding money, that he would make his own position impossible. He would never be frightened of Reggie, but he might well take Campbell more seriously.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “That will do it; make all the difference. He’ll see it will only work once. Yes, excellent. Thank you again.”
Campbell pulled a face of incredulousness mixed with amusement, but he said nothing. Reggie left with a firmness to his step. He could see light ahead, comfort again.
Of course General Balantyne also heard about the appalling discovery in the empty garden, and he was deeply shocked by it. He had not known Helena well, but she had been a lovely creature, full of life, gentle, a woman with all her promise ahead of her. To find her in such-the thought of it was too dreadful to frame. Someone had abused and violated her, and even presumably killed her. No one knew a great deal yet, and the police had not so far called. It was to be supposed they would come today.
Meanwhile he would work on his papers. Miss Ellison, although he thought of her as Charlotte now, had done all that she could for the time being, and in truth, he missed her. The library seemed empty without her presence and he found it harder to resume his concentration, as if he were awaiting something.
He had still not settled his mind to work when the police came. It was the same fellow, Pitt. He received him in the library.
“Good morning, Inspector.” There was no need to ask what he was here for.
“Good morning, sir.” Pitt came in gravely.
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you anything of value,” Balantyne said straight away. “I did not know Miss Doran other than to see her occasionally when she visited my wife and daughter. I imagine you will wish to see them. I would appreciate it if you could keep the most distressing facts to yourself. My daughter is about to be married, day after tomorrow, to be precise. Don’t want to spoil the-” he stopped; it sounded callous, offensively trite, when another girl was lying alone, a few rag-covered bones in some police mortuary, obscenely eaten by small animals and maggots! It made him faintly sick.
Pitt seemed to read Balantyne’s confused thoughts and feelings in his face.
“Of course,” he said, without sympathy in his voice; or so it seemed to Balantyne. And why should he have sympathy? Christina was alive and well, on her way to marriage, a life of security and comfort, of social privilege. And if he were honest, she might well feel shock, disgust at Helena’s death, and the manner of it, but he would be surprised if she thought of it long, and more so if she wept any tears of pity.
“I’m interested in Helena’s life,” Pitt continued. “The cause of her death lies in that, not what happened to her body afterward. She was with child, did you know?”
Balantyne felt an added twist of hurt for the double loss.
“Yes, I heard. Unfortunately little remains unpassed from door to door in a square like this.”
“Do you know who her lover was?” Pitt asked baldly.
Balantyne was repelled, he winced at the vulgarity of the question. Helena had been a woman of quality, a-he caught Pitt’s eyes and realized he was trying to cling to a dream of unreality that was no longer viable. But to think so-of a woman! Damn Pitt for his squalid truths.