‘The men involved have been captured. They’ll be coming up before Sir Humphrey Bodkin at the Old Bailey before you know it and they’ll be hanged. Take comfort from that, Lady Dedham,’ Lily murmured reassuringly. ‘They can represent no further danger to you and yours.’
‘You’re telling me what you think I want to hear, Lily. Come off it. I’m sure that a girl smart enough to be assisting the commander has seen further than the arrest of those two stool-pigeons. Would that be the word?’
Lily was taken aback and replied carefully: ‘It will do, but I think, in the trade, we might say “patsies”. To describe a pair who were set up – or hired – by some other agency to commit the crime. Is that what’s worrying you? I’d be intrigued to hear what gives rise to your suspicion.’
‘It concerns me, Lily, that a murderous menace is walking the streets of our capital. There may be other innocent targets going about their daily lives in London, unaware that they’re being hunted down by nationalistic madmen at loose in our midst. Who will be next to suffer?’ Unable to keep it to herself a moment longer, she sat up and fixed Lily with eager dark eyes. ‘Listen. Those two brigands didn’t kill Oliver, you know. Oh, I agree that was their intent and they would probably have finished him off, given a little longer … who knows? I keep hearing the shots replaying in my head. The first two had the same note – they were fired from the same type of gun and almost simultaneously. But it wasn’t those shots that laid him low. Oliver was still on his feet, wielding his sword and setting them to rout, when it happened. Oh, I must be mistaken … the street was clear – no one else about, I can swear to that … but it was the third bullet that did for him. A different sound. I’m no expert but I’d say it was a larger calibre gun. And fired from across the street.’
Chapter Nine
‘I have mine with cream and one lump of sugar, my dear,’ Cassandra said, slipping a peony-patterned Japanese kimono over her head. She settled on a chair by the coffee table. ‘But first, do draw back the curtains and let the light in. Out there in the world it must be lunch time, I’d guess. I prefer to see what the person I’m talking to is thinking and I expect you do too.’
Lily busied herself with the curtains and then with cups, jugs and sugar tongs, hoping she was getting everything right. Presiding over a coffee tray in a sunlit Melton Square boudoir was a new experience for her, rendered surprisingly easy by Cassandra Dedham’s friendly, if distracted, acceptance of her. It occurred to Lily that, cousin or not, to be vouched for by Sandilands was no mean accolade. And Cassandra clearly adored him. Whatever Lily’s own reservations about the man and his motives, they would have to remain concealed in the present circumstances.
They enjoyed their coffee for a few moments before Lily replied carefully to Lady Dedham’s earlier suggestion. ‘I don’t think you’re mad. In fact I think you’ve come to an accurate conclusion about the shooting. And I’ll tell you something else – the commander is of the same opinion. I’ve seen the notes. He had underlined your account of the third shot and put a question mark in the margin. It would, indeed, seem to have been the work of an organized gang. But no one needs to speculate … The moment Dr Spilsbury has made his report, we’ll know for certain. They can take a bullet to the police laboratory and identify the very gun it came from – should they be lucky enough to get their hands on it – by the pattern of striations along the casing. It’s the equivalent of a fingerprint for guns.’
‘Good Lord! Can they really do that? How clever! And how … reassuring. The police grow in my estimation every day. How wonderful for you to be involved with such a fine body as the Metropolitan Police. And it must be such fun working with Joe …’
She left a space into which Lily was expected to slide an answer. ‘Stimulating is the best I can say, Lady Dedham,’ she murmured with honesty. Sensing that her reply was failing to satisfy the commander’s admirer, she added: ‘He did save me from being stabbed in the bottom by a pimp on Paddington station the other day.’
This was what the lady wanted to hear. Her eyes grew round and a smile lit up her face for a moment as Lily told the story. ‘Oh, that’s the stuff! I draw the line at a punctured bottom but I should have so enjoyed such stimulation myself when I was young. I should have liked to do something truly useful had there been opportunities in that still-Victorian world. As it was, I only took part in two women’s suffrage marches before I became engaged to Oliver. And, of course, pillar of male society that he was hoping to become at that time, he had to call a halt to such activities on the part of his fiancée. Straight from schoolroom to debutante to future admiral’s wife. I had my first child before I was twenty. Not much time for living, you’d say, Lily?’
‘I see consolations all around me.’ Lily waved a hand at the surrounding opulence and dared to add: ‘And you’re still young and – forgive me for saying such a thing at this time – full of energy and hope.’ This was not an acceptable comment from a stranger on the first day of bereavement and Lily tensed as the widow took her up on it at once.
‘Hope? What hope? Oliver and I were looking forward to the next stage in our lives. He was retiring from the Navy, you know. In the autumn. Coming home to us at last, like his hero Ulysses.’ Her smile was forgiving. ‘Like Penelope, I’d served my twenty years of loneliness. But, unlike Ulysses’ deserted spouse, I shall never have my man back from the sea. Hope gone, you see, Lily.’
‘Never!’ Lily said defiantly. ‘This isn’t the time or the place and I’m not the person to sound the trumpet so I’ll let the admiral’s hero do it himself: How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use! Didn’t Ulysses say that?’
‘Lily! My dear! How could you know …?’ Cassandra began to breathe unsteadily, her composure shattered by the words. ‘That was Oliver’s favourite poem! And now I hear you giving his sentiments back to me. I hear him saying it: “Never grow rusty … shine in use …” And I don’t doubt he would have concluded: Tho’ much is taken, much abides.’ Cassandra seemed to draw comfort from the memory and the verse. She smiled bravely over the rim of her cup and changed the subject. ‘Does he terrify you?’ she asked.
‘He? Me?’ Lily stammered.
‘Yes. Your commander. You. He can be a bit of a steamroller. He terrifies me! So young. So competent. So demanding. One must not be taken in by the handsome exterior, the easy smile, you know. He tried to teach me to shoot. When all this was gathering … Oliver was unconcerned, of course. Thought he was indestructible … Well, the might of the Kaiser’s navy had failed to sink him, after all! Joe offered me a tiny gun – he could see I was worried – to hide in my bag and he showed me how to use it. Ididn’t catch on very fast, I’m afraid. Hopeless, in fact. After an hour’s practice, he shrugged and grumped at me: “Well, the noise might scare someone off, I suppose.”’ She rolled her eyes and pulled a rueful face. ‘I felt I’d failed him.’
‘You hadn’t failed him. Didn’t they tell you? Well, I shall. One of your bullets was found lodged in the back of the larger of the two attackers. You got one of the villains, Lady Dedham! A more powerful pistol would have killed him on the spot.’
To Lily’s mortification, Cassandra’s coffee cup began to rattle on its saucer. She placed it back on the table with trembling hand, gasped and choked. Sniffs announced the breaking of a dam of tears and she reached blindly for the handkerchief Lily quickly took from her pocket and held towards her.
‘If only I’d run faster back down the hall … if I’d shot straighter … with a bigger gun … Oliver! Oliver! I’m so sorry!’ The words came, haphazard, filtered through the fabric of the handkerchief, bubbling up with the sobs.