“Thank you, Rogers,” Pitt said with sincerity. “That’s very good of you.”
It was indeed a tangle of passages and stairways with offices at every turn and people coming and going, all distracted with their own business. He found Jack alone in a room which was obviously shared with someone else a good deal of the time. He thanked his guide and waited until he had left before closing the door and turning to speak.
Jack Radley was approaching forty, but a man of very good looks and natural warmth which made him seem younger. Now he was surprised to see Pitt, but he set aside the newspapers he had been reading and faced him with curiosity.
“Sit down,” he invited him. “What brings you here? I thought you were going to take a long-overdue holiday. You have Edward with you!” There was a shadow behind his eyes, and Pitt realized with a bitter humor that he was aware of the injustice of Pitt’s present position with the Special Branch and afraid that Pitt was going to ask for his help in reversing it. It was something he could not do, and Pitt knew that even better than he did.
“Charlotte has taken the children,” Pitt replied. “Edward was full of excitement and ready to drive the train himself. I have to stay here for a while. As you know, there’s going to be an election in a few days.” He allowed a flash of humor in his face, and then lost it again. “For reasons I cannot explain, I need some information on the issues . . . and some of the people.”
Jack drew in his breath.
“Special Branch reasons.” Pitt smiled at him. “Not personal.”
Jack colored slightly. He was not often wrong-footed by anyone, least of all Pitt, who was unused to political debate and the thrust and cut of opposition. Perhaps Jack had forgotten that the questioning of suspects held many of the same elements, the obliqueness, the study of face and gesture, the anticipation and the ambush.
“What issues?” Jack asked. “There’s Home Rule for Ireland, but then there has been for generations. It’s no better than it ever was, although Gladstone’s sticking to it. It’s brought him down once already, and I think it will certainly cost him votes again, but no one can pry him loose from it, though God knows enough have tried.” He pulled a slightly rueful face. “But rather less often argued about is Home Rule for Scotland—or Wales.”
Pitt was startled. “Home Rule for Wales?” he said incredulously. “What backing is there for that?”
“Not a great deal,” Jack admitted. “Or Scotland, either, but it is an issue.”
“Surely it won’t affect the London seats?”
“It might, if you were arguing for it.” Jack shrugged. “Actually, on the whole, the people most against such things are those geographically the farthest from them. Londoners tend to think Westminster should rule everything. The more power you have, the more you want.”
“Home Rule, at least for Ireland, has been on the agenda for decades.” Pitt set it aside temporarily. “What else?”
“The eight-hour day,” Jack replied grimly. “That’s the biggest, at least so far, and I don’t see anything else equaling it.” He looked at Pitt with a slight frown. “What is it, Thomas? A plot to overthrow the Old Man?” He was referring to Gladstone. There had already been attempts on his life.
“No,” Pitt said quickly. “Nothing so overt.” He wished he could tell Jack the whole truth, but for Jack’s sake as much as his own, he could not. Any betrayal must not be blamed on him. “Corrupt constituences, some dirty fighting.”
“Since when did Special Branch care about that?” Jack said skeptically, leaning back a little in his chair, his elbow inadvertently knocking over a pile of books and papers. “They are supposed to be stopping anarchists and dynamiters, especially Fenians.” He frowned. “Don’t lie to me, Thomas. I’d rather you told me to mind my own business than fob me off with an evasion.”
“It’s not an evasion,” Pitt replied. “It’s a particular seat, and so far as I know, it has no Irish dimension, nor any dynamiters.”
“Why you?” Jack said levelly. “Is it anything to do with the Adinett case?” He was referring to the murder which had so infuriated Voisey and the Inner Circle they had taken their revenge on Pitt by having him dismissed from Bow Street.
“Indirectly,” Pitt admitted. “You are almost at the point where you would rather be told to mind your own business.”
“Which seat?” Jack said, perfectly calmly. “I can’t help you if I don’t know.”
“You can’t help me anyway,” Pitt countered dryly. “Except with information about the issues, and the odd warning about tactics. I wish I had paid more attention to politics in the past.”
Jack grinned suddenly, but it was not without self-mockery. “When I think how narrow our majority is going to be, so do I!”
Pitt wanted to ask about the safety of Jack’s own seat, but it would be better to find out from someone else. “Do you know Aubrey Serracold?” he asked instead.
Jack looked surprised. “Yes, actually I know him moderately well. His wife is a friend of Emily’s.” He frowned. “Why, Thomas? I’d stake a great deal he’s a decent man—honest, intelligent and going into politics to serve his country. He has no need of money and no desire to wield power for itself.”
Pitt should have been comforted, but instead he saw a man in danger from something he would never see until it was too late; he might well not recognize an enemy even then, because his nature was outside Serracold’s understanding.
Was Jack right, and in not telling him the truth was Pitt throwing away perhaps the only weapon he possessed? Narraway had given him a task that seemed impossible as it stood. It was not detecting as he was used to it; he was seeking not to solve a crime but to prevent a sin, one which was against the moral law but probably not the law of the land. It was not that Voisey should have the power—he had as much right as any other candidate—it was what he would do with it in perhaps two or three years, or even five or ten, that was wrong. And you cannot punish a man for what you believe he may do, no matter how evil.
Jack leaned forward across his desk. “Thomas, Serracold is a friend of mine. If he is in some kind of danger, any kind, let me know!” He made no threats and produced no arguments, which was oddly more persuasive than if he had. “I would protect my friends, just as you would yours. Personal loyalty means something, and the day it doesn’t I want no part of politics anymore.”
Even when Pitt had feared Jack courted Emily for her money—and he had feared it—he had still found him impossible to dislike. There was a warmth in him, an ability to mock himself and yet keep the directness which was the essence of his charm. Pitt had no chance of success without taking risks, because there was no safe way even to begin, let alone to conclude, a fight against Voisey.
“Not physical danger, so far as I know,” he replied, hoping he was right in his decision to defy Narraway and confide at least some portion of the truth in Jack. Please heaven it did not come back and betray them both! “Danger of being cheated out of his seat.”
Jack waited as if he knew that was not all.
“And perhaps of being ruined in reputation,” Pitt added.
“By whom?”
“If I knew that I would be in a far better position to guard against it.”
“You mean you can’t tell me?”
“I mean I don’t know.”
“Then why? You know something, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“For political gain, of course.”
“Then it is his opponent. Who else?”
“Those behind him.”
Jack started to argue, then stopped. “I suppose everybody has someone behind him. The ones you can see are the least worry.” He stood up slowly. He was almost the same height as Pitt, but as elegant as Pitt was untidy. He had natural grace, and was still as meticulously dressed and groomed as in the days when he made his way on his charm. “I’ll be happy to continue this conversation, but I have a meeting in an hour, and I haven’t had a decent meal today. Will you join me?”