“Is O’Neil a Jew?” Pitt asked sarcastically.
“Of course not! But no one seriously suspected him for long,” Pryce replied with an edge to his voice. “Fielding and Miss Macaulay were the other main suspects.”
“It is all quite beside the point,” Livesey interrupted with impatience. “Godman was guilty, and it is unfortunate his sister cannot accept the fact and leave the case to sink into oblivion, where it belongs.” He shook his head and his lips tightened. “It can help no one at all to keep on raking it up. It will change nothing. She is a very foolish woman.”
Pitt turned back to Juniper. “Do you know of anyone else Mr. Stafford saw today, or anywhere he went?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, that is all he spoke of. Then he came home. We had dinner a little earlier than usual—quite a light meal really.” She swallowed with difficulty. “And then we came to the theater—here …”
Charlotte held her hand tightly, still sitting very close to her. She looked at Pitt.
“Is there really anything more you have to know tonight, Thomas? Would it not be possible for Mrs. Stafford to go home now and pursue whatever else there may be in the morning? She is exhausted.”
“Yes, of course.” Pitt stood up slowly. “I am extremely sorry to have had to speak of it at all, Mrs. Stafford, and I hope it may all prove to have been unnecessary.” He held out his hand. “May I offer my deepest sympathy.”
“Thank you.” She took his hand, not merely to bid him good-bye, but with his assistance, to rise (somewhat heavily) to her feet.
“I’ll come with you to your carriage,” Charlotte offered.
Pryce came forward suddenly, holding out his arm, his face tight with emotion.
“Please—permit me! May I help you, Mrs. Stafford? You need someone to make sure you are not harassed or crowded on the way, and to support you. I should deem it an honor.”
Her eyes were wide, almost feverish. She hesitated, as if to make some protest; then the practicality of it became apparent and she took a step towards him.
“You have been most kind, Mrs. Pitt,” Pryce added, looking at Charlotte with sudden courtesy and a fragment of what was probably a characteristic charm. “But please allow me to be of some service, and yourself to remain with your husband.”
“That is most generous of you,” Charlotte accepted with relief. “I confess, I had completely forgotten about my mother, who is our hostess here. She may still be in our box, waiting for us.”
“Then it is settled.” Pryce offered Mrs. Stafford his arm. After a brief farewell, they went out together, she leaning upon him and he gently supporting her.
“Oh dear.” Livesey pursed his lips. “A hard business, very hard. But I am sure you have handled it correctly, Mr. Pitt. And you, Mrs. Pitt, have been most considerate with your sympathy and kindness.” He sighed. “However, I know there may be worse to come, if indeed his death was not natural. Let us pray that our fear is unnecessary.”
“I don’t think even God can change what is already done,” Pitt said dryly. “What time did Mr. Stafford come to see you, sir?”
“Immediately before luncheon,” Livesey replied. “I was to dine with a colleague, and was about to leave my chambers when Stafford came in. He stayed only a few moments—”
“Was he there in connection with the Blaine/Godman case?” Pitt interrupted.
A look of distaste crossed Livesey’s broad face. “Not primarily, although he did mention it. It was regarding another matter, which is naturally confidential.” He smiled very slightly. “But I can be of some assistance, Inspector. Just before leaving he took a small sip from his flask, and so did I. As you can see, I am in excellent health. So we know beyond question that the flask was untainted at that time.”
Pitt looked at him in silence, digesting the information and its implications.
Livesey made a small gesture of amusement, a downward curling of his lips. “Corroborated, Inspector. My colleague, John Wentworth, an eminent Queen’s Counsel, had arrived for our luncheon engagement. I am sure if you wish it he will confirm what I have said.”
Pitt let out his breath quickly. “I did not doubt you, sir. I was considering the gravity of the conclusions which that obliges, should there prove to be poison in the flask.”
“Indeed.” Livesey’s face darkened. “Exceedingly unpleasant, I fear, but perhaps unavoidable nonetheless. I do not envy you your task, sir.”
At last Pitt also smiled. “Not mine, Mr. Livesey. I shall hand it over to my superiors tomorrow morning, if indeed it is a case at all. I was merely responding because I was here at the time. It would be irresponsible to ignore the opportunity to gather evidence, against eventuality.”
“Commendable, and as you say, your duty.” Livesey inclined his head. “And now if you will excuse me, I believe I can be of no further assistance. It has been a long and extremely unpleasant evening. I shall be relieved to find my carriage and take my leave. Good night to you.”
“Good night, Mr. Livesey. Thank you for your help.”
Charlotte returned to the box to find Caroline still there. Somehow after the reality of the tragedy its plush seats and cozy luxury, its view of the blank stage, seemed absurdly trivial. Caroline was facing the door, her expression one of anxiety. She rose to her feet as soon as Charlotte arrived.
“What has happened? How is he?”
“I am afraid he is dead,” Charlotte replied, closing the door behind her. “He never regained his senses, which is perhaps a blessing. What is far worse is that the other judge, Mr. Livesey, seems to think it may have been poison.”
“Oh, dear heaven!” Caroline was aghast. “You mean, he took his …” Then realization struck her. “No—you don’t, do you? You mean he was murdered!”
Charlotte sat down and took Caroline’s hand to draw her down again too.
“Yes, it seems a strong possibility. And I am afraid there is worse, much worse …”
“What?” Caroline’s eyes were wide. “What in heaven’s name would be worse than that?”
“Tamar Macaulay visited him today, about a very dreadful case for which her brother was hanged, about five years ago.”
“Hanged? Oh, Charlotte! How tragic. But whatever could Mr. Stafford have done about it?”
“Apparently she still believes he was innocent, in spite of all the evidence, and she wanted Stafford to reopen the case. Mrs. Stafford said Tamar had pestered him for a long time, and he was quite upset by it. After she left he went out very hastily and told Mrs. Stafford he was going to see the other principal suspects in the case.”
“And you think one of them murdered him?” Caroline concluded with distress. “And that—that was what we saw: We saw him murdered?”
“Yes. But Mama, the other suspects were a man called O’Neil—and Joshua Fielding.”
Caroline stared at her, her eyes hurt, her face full of confusion.
“Joshua Fielding,” she repeated, blinking. “Suspected of murder? Who? Who was killed?”
“A man called Blaine. Apparently it was a very shocking case. He was crucified.”
“What?” Caroline could not grasp what she had said. “You mean—no, you can’t! It’s …”
“Against a door,” Charlotte went on. “They hanged Tamar’s brother, but she has never believed him guilty. I’m sorry.”
“But why Joshua Fielding? Why should he kill this man? What reason could he have?”
“I don’t know. Mrs. Stafford just said that the judge went to see both Mr. Fielding and Mr. O’Neil after Tamar called on him today.” She gave a harsh little laugh. “Or it must be yesterday, by now.”
“What is Thomas doing?”
“Finding out all he can, so that when he hands it over to whoever will look into the case—if, of course, it is poison and there is a case—so that they have all they can to begin with.”