“But a witch that looked like you?”
Christine winced. “That’s what Christophertold me. Tall and blond, like I am and Christopher is.”
“So Christina convinced you to hate thiswoman in Kingston?”
“Christina said all would be well if only wecould get rid of her.”
“So Christina plotted to do that, and shewent looking for someone blond and attractive in Devil’s Acre.”
“She was a devil, wasn’t she? Where elsewould we find her?”
“But she lived in Kingston.”
“That’s what Christopher wished me tobelieve, but she’s been here in Devil’s Acre all along. He’s beenkeeping that secret from me, but Christina knows everything. She’snaughty, but she knows things for certain.”
“So Christina went looking for her?”
“And there she was. Christina told me abouther. And how clever she was in doing what had to be done.”
“Christina thought up the idea of dressing uplike a man? In yer brother’s clothes?”
“Oh, yes. Clever, isn’t she?”
“But what did Christina do?” Mrs. Baldridgesaid with a gasp.
“She killed three people by slitting theirthroats: Sally Butts, Sarie Hickson and Simon Whitemarsh,” Cobbsaid.
“Oh, my God,” Mrs. Baldridge said, andreached for the smelling salts. She sat down in a chair oppositethe couch that Christine was lying on.
“But the third time Christina killed yourbrother’s fiancée,” Cobb said to the girl, “it was really aman.”
“Christina was not pleased to read that inthe newspaper.”
“Not completely clever, was she?”
“Oh, but she boasted to me how she outwittedthe police every time.”
“She put on your brother’s boots andgreatcoat and fur hat, didn’t she?”
“Oh, yes, but not here.”
“That was the really clever part, wasn’t it?She put these things in a big laundry bag and pretended she was alaundry woman, didn’t she?”
“And who would notice or remember a laundrywoman walking towards or away from Devil’s Acre?”
“So Christina waited till she was insideDevil’s Acre, then put on a man’s coat, hat and boots over herwoman’s clothes, old clothes like a laundry woman would wear. And abit like the ones you’ve got on, Christine.” Cobb had an image of atall, dark figure stalking its victim, silently except for thewhirr of the knife, blood splashing on the white snow.
Christine looked puzzled. “Christina musthave given me these. They’re not mine.”
“Then she prowled Devil’s Acre looking forthe witch, didn’t she?” Cobb said.
“Even if she was seen she got only a nod fromthe passers-by. She had the knife ready, the one my daddy used forskinning rabbits.”
“What puzzled me the most,” Cobb said, “wastracking those bootprints to the edge of Devil’s Acre, at Jarvis orChurch Street. They disappeared because Christina stopped there toput the men’s things into the laundry bag — and became the laundrywoman again.”
“How clever is that, eh?”
Cobb remembered now that the tracks at theedge of Devil’s Acre had always looked as if the killer hadshuffled about waiting for the coast to be clear. But now he knewthe shuffling about was for the removal of the disguise. And thatthe laundry woman the watchman had seen after Sally Butts waskilled was in fact the murderer.
“And Christina was clever enough to fake anattack on you,” Cobb said.
Christine smiled. “Oh, that was a good one,wasn’t it? I was very frightened, of course, when she told me I hadto walk through Devil’s Acre. ‘But I’ll be nearby, won’t I?’ shesaid to me. And I knew I’d be safe. She told me when to scream andfall down.”
“She wanted the police to know, from yourdescription, just what sort of man was doing the attackin’,didn’t she?”
“They’ll never suspect it’s a woman,’ shesaid, and laughed.
“She only made one mistake, though. Shedropped her scarf in the alley. It had the letter ‘P’ on it forPettigrew.”
“But there are a lot of ‘P’s in Toronto,aren’t there?”
“Tell me, though, why would Christina invitea policeman into your house?”
“Oh, but she didn’t. I did see a man at mywindow, and without Christopher here, I wanted protection. I justinsisted and Christina had no say in the matter.”
“What put me onto your clever friend,” Cobbsaid, “was my sudden memory of the laundry woman and beginning towonder what might have been in that bag. Then I noticed that theletters from your brother were dated three days apart. I saw howyou reacted to the letter at supper time, and I began to wonder ifyour headaches were brought on by the mention of Kingston and yourbrother leavin’ you. Then there was the letter ‘P’ on the scarf. Ithought my idea was wild at the time, but all I needed to do wasmake sure that you were in your bed where you were supposed tobe.”
“Oh, but I was, wasn’t I? It’s Christina whogoes out and does those naughty deeds.”
“Ah, yes, Christina. Well, she’s in a lot oftrouble, I’m afraid.” Cobb looked over at Mrs. Baldridge. “We’llhave to go to the magistrate,” he said.
Mrs. Baldridge, still in shock, repliedquietly, “I’ll see that she’s ready to go.”
TWELVE
Marc and Christopher had an uneventful passage hometo Kingston. Marc went immediately to Robert’s room, where he foundRobert, Hincks and LaFontaine.
“I’ve got great news,” Marc said before heeven greeted them.
“You’ve won Thériault over?” Robert said, hiseyes widening.
“All the way,” Marc said. “Christopher wasmagnificent.” He had been magnificent, too, but was too modest tosay so.
“He’s going to back the coalition?” Louissaid.
“And try to persuade others to do the same,”Marc said. “I left a number of documents, in English and French,for his use with his peers.”
“I’d like to meet with him as soon aspossible,” Louis said.
“That will not be difficult. He has expresseda desire to do so as soon as you’re free.”
“I’ll go to Chateauguay at once,” Louis said,as excited as he ever got.
“I’ll go with you,” Hincks said, “if youthink I could be of any help.”
“Marc, this is wonderful news,” Robert said.“I really feel now as if we are on the path to responsiblegovernment. Oh, there will be setbacks and bumps along the road,but with a French-English Reform alliance in the Assembly, nothingcan stop our steady march.” Robert had tears in his eyes. “Therewere times when I thought this day would never come. But it has.And I thank God — and my many friends — for it.”
Was Robert right? Had they at last won thebattle they had been waging for so long? Robert all his adult life,of course, and Marc since the winter of 1836 when he had venturednaively into the Upper Canadian countryside to try and solve themurder of Beth Smallman’s father-in-law. He had been an ignorantaristocrat then, full of himself and his own narrow future. ButBeth and her neighbours had taught him about the reality of life inthe province, and he had come to know and love them. Then there hadfollowed the slow but inevitable change in his politics — fromcareer Tory to enthusiastic Reformer. He had teamed up with Robert,and they had together fought elections, battled in the Assembly fortheir rights, championed the union of the two Canadas, and alwayswith one eye on the main prize: responsible government. Was it nowreally within their grasp?
“Well, then, we’d better make a toast to oursuccess,” Hincks said. “I’ll see if our host has a chilled bottleof champagne handy.”
***
While the toast was being drunk, less sanguineevents were occurring in the town. The three dozen or so Frenchworkers from the Parliamentary and other work-sites, many withtheir families, lived in rundown shanties in the east end ofKingston. This evening, instead of fiddling and dancing and otherentertainments, there was an uneasy quiet over the community. Menwere seen going door to door, gathering in small groups andwhispering. Gradually they formed into a single group of severaldozen. They still spoke in low voices but the tone was one ofanger.