We have heard quite a lot more about this wretched man, Caleb Stone. I am not sure of what use it could be.”

“It might be of much use,” he said quickly. “I found him myself, and he admitted having killed Angus, but I still have no corpse. Even if I can never prove Caleb's guilt, much as I would like to, the important thing is that the authorities will assume Angus's death, for the widow's sake.” “Yes, of course. I understand.”

“Is there somewhere we can talk more privately?” he asked, looking away from Hester.

Callandra hid the faintest smile, then excused herself and led Monk to the small storeroom where they had spoken earlier, leaving Hester to return to her duties.

“You look in an ill temper, William,” she observed as soon as the door was closed. She sat on the only chair and he sat half sideways on the bench.

“Is it the frustration of your case, or have you been quarreling with Hester again?”

“She gets more arbitrary and set in her ways every time I see her,” he responded. “And unbearably self-righteous. It is an extraordinarily unattractive quality, especially in a woman. She seems to be utterly without humor or the ability to charm, which is a woman's greatest asset.”

“I see.” Callandra nodded, poking the last stray end of hair into a pin behind her ear. “How fortunate that you feel that way. Now, if she should catch typhoid, like poor Enid Ravensbrook, you will not be so distressed as if you were fond of her, or found her pleasing.”

It was a monstrous thing to say! The idea of Hester as desperately ill as Enid Ravensbrook, or these poor souls around him, was appalling. It chilled his flesh as if he were frozen from the inside. And she would not be cared for in luxury as Enid had been. There would be no one to sit with her day and night, to nurse her with the skill and dedication to keep her alive. He could try, of course, and he would. But he had not the knowledge. How could Callandra speak so utterly heartlessly?

“Now, about this case,” she said cheerfully, ignoring his feelings altogether. “It sounds most frustrating. What do you propose to do next? Or have you abandoned it?”

He was about to make an extremely tart reply when he realized there was humor in her eyes, and suddenly he felt foolish, and had a brilliant memory, barely a second long, of standing at the kitchen table, resting his chin on it, watching his mother rolling pastry. She had just told him something which made him realize that she knew almost everything and he knew nothing at all. It had been a revelation, both humiliating and at the same time comforting.

“No, I have not abandoned it,” he said, and his voice sounded far more meek than he had intended. “I will continue it as long as I am able to, until I find proof, at the very least, that Angus is dead. I would dearly like to prove Caleb murdered him, but that may be impossible.”

Her rather erratic eyebrows rose. “Has Mrs. Stonefield got funds for that?

I gathered she was in some difficulty, or expected to be very shortly.”

“No, she hasn't and though Lord Ravensbrook has agreed to pay for the investigation, Mrs. Stonefield seems worried that he will not continue to do so.” Should he ask her? She had taken very little part in the investigation. She might consider the typhoid outbreak to be a more pressing need, and perhaps she was right. He had only the haziest idea how much disposable income she had for such things.

“Then I shall be happy to take care of the fee for as long as you believe there is purpose in continuing.” She looked at him steadily. “Purpose with advantage to Mrs. Stonefield, that is, or to her children.”

“Thank you,” he said humbly.

“Did I overhear you say something about learning more of Caleb Stone?” she asked curiously. “And where he lives, when he can be said to live anywhere.

From what I have heard, he spends a great deal of time moving from one place to another. Presumably to avoid his enemies, whom rumor would have to be legion.”

“Yes. Anything you know, or have heard, might be helpful,” he accepted. “I need to know where they might have been seen together that day. If I could produce a witness who saw them, and then Caleb alone, I should know where to search for a body. Even if I did not find one, it might be sufficient to make the police take up the case. Angus Stonefield was a well-respected man.”

“I realize why you wish it, William.” She rose to her feet heavily. “I may have spent the last week nursing the sick, but I have not lost my wits. I shall send Hester to you. She has spent more time with the people than I have, especially with Mary. I have been fighting with the frightened, bitter men at the local council, and all that they have said at enormous length and with enough words to fill a library, providing every book were the same, amounts to nothing whatever of the slightest use to man or beast.” And before he could argue, she sailed out and he was left alone sitting on the bench in the light of one tallow candle, looking at the water-stained walls and waiting for Hester.

She was several minutes in coming, and by the time she did he was thoroughly uncomfortable.

She arrived and closed the door.

He stood up automatically, until she seated herself in the chair. She began straightaway, so obviously Callandra had explained his purpose.

“Everyone seems afraid of Caleb,” she said gravely. “He seems to inhabit an area stretching from the East India Dock Road to the river-”

“The Isle of Dogs,” he interrupted. “I know that much.”

“On both sides,” she continued, ignoring him. “And the Greenwich marshes as far as Bugsby's Reach. A great deal of the time no one knows precisely where he is. He sleeps in the dockyards, on barges, and sometimes with Selina Herries, which you already know.”

“Yes, I do,” he said impatiently. “I need to prove he was with Angus on the day he was last seen, and when and where.”

“I know what you want.” She was unruffled. “But you won't prove anything unless you can persuade someone to speak to you. I don't think anyone is going to betray Caleb unless they can be sure he won't take his revenge on them for it. And Selina won't, regardless. She may be frightened, but she loves him, in her own way.”

There was a sound of buckets clanging on the far side of the door, but no one opened it.

He leaned forward. “How do you know? Do you know her?” It was foolish to get excited by the thought, but it would be the last chance, if he could find a way to gain her trust. “She may only be afraid as well.”

Hester smiled. It lit her face, not removing the tiredness but overriding it.

“I don't doubt she is afraid of him,” she agreed. “And I don't doubt she has cause, now and then. But by all accounts she also loves him, in her way, and is rather proud of him.”

“Proud of him! In God's name, what for? The man's a failure in every way.”

As soon as he had said it, he wished he had not put it in such words. It was a damnation, and Caleb's vivid face with its rage and its intelligence was sharp in his mind. He could have been so much more. He could have been everything that Angus was. Instead jealousy had corroded his soul until in a passion of hatred he had committed murder and destroyed not only his brother but what was left of himself. The pity in Monk was tight and painful, fraught with loathing. And yet he knew rage himself. It was the grace of God that he had not killed. Could Angus conceivably have been a hypocrite too, a charming, predatory blackguard too clever for anyone to catch?

Hester did not interrupt his thoughts. He wished she would. Instead she simply sat staring at him, waiting. She knew him too intimately. It was uncomfortable.

“Well?” he demanded. “What could she be proud of him for?”

“Because no one cheats him or abuses him,” she answered, her voice suggesting that it was obvious. “He's strong. Everyone knows his name. The fact that he chooses her makes her important. People don't dare to take advantage of her either.”