A Sudden, Fearful Death

"Ah-yes." Sir Herbert looked startled and slightly out of composure. "Yes-it seems like a fortunate acquisition-so far. A very competent young woman. Thank you for your kind words, Lady Ross Gilbert." Unconsciously he pulled down the front of his jacket, straightening it a little. "Most generous of you. Now if you would excuse me, I have other patients I must attend. Charming to see you."

Berenice smiled bleakly. "Naturally. Good morning, Sir Herbert."

Hester moved at last toward the dormitory and the opportunity for an hour or two's rest. She was tired enough to sleep even through the constant comings and goings, the chatter, the movement of others, even though she longed for privacy. The peace of her own small lodging room seemed a haven it never had previously, when she had compared it with her father's home with its spaciousness, warmth, and familiar elegance.

She did not sleep long and woke with a start, her mind frantically trying to recall some impression she had gained. It was important, it meant something, and she could not grasp it.

An elderly nurse with a bald patch on one side of her head was standing a few feet away, staring at her.

"That there rozzer wants yer," she said flatly. "The one wi' the eyes like a ferret. You'd better look sharp. 'E ain't one to cross." And having delivered her message she took herself off without glancing backwards to see whether Hester obeyed or not.

Blinking, her eyes sore, her head heavy, Hester climbed out of the cot (she did not think of it as hers), pulled on her dress, and straightened her hair. Then she set off to find Jeavis; from the woman's description it could only be Jeavis who wanted her, not Evan.

She saw him standing outside Sir Herbert Stanhope's room, looking along the corridor toward her. Presumably he knew where the dormitory was, and thus expected her the way she came.

"Morning, miss," he said when she was within a few feet of him. He looked her up and down with curiosity. "You'd be Miss Latterly?"

"Yes, Inspector. What may I do for you?" She said it more coolly than she had intended, but something in his manner irritated her.

"Oh yes. You were not here when Miss Barrymore met her death," he began unnecessarily. "But I understand you served in the Crimea? Perhaps you were acquainted with her there?"

"Yes, slightly." She was about to add that she knew nothing of relevance, or she would have told him without his asking, then she realized that it was just possible she might learn something from him if she prolonged the conversation. "We served side by side on at least one occasion." She looked into his dark, almost browless eyes, and unwittingly thought of the bald nurse's mention of a ferret. It was cruel, but not entirely inappropriate-a dark brown, highly intelligent ferret. Perhaps it was not such a good idea to try misleading him after all.

"Difficult to tell what a woman looked like," he said thoughtfully, "when you haven't seen her alive. They tell me she was quite handsome. Would you agree with that, Miss Latterly?"

"Yes." She was surprised. It seemed so irrelevant. "Yes, she had a very-very individual face, most appealing. But she was rather tall."

Jeavis unconsciously squared his shoulders. "Indeed. I assume she must have had admirers?"

Hester avoided his eyes deliberately. "Oh yes. Are you thinking such a person killed her?"

"Never mind what we're thinking," he replied smugly. "You just answer my questions the best you can."

Hester seethed with annoyance, and hid it with difficulty. Pompous little man!

"I never knew her to encourage anyone," she said between stiff lips. "She didn't flirt. I don't think she knew how to."

"Hmm…" He bit his lip. "Be that as it may, did she ever mention a Mr. Geoffrey Taunton to you? Think carefully now. I need an exact, honest answer."

Hester controlled herself with an intense effort. She wanted to slap him. But this conversation would be worth it if she learned something, however small. She gazed back at him with wide eyes.

"What does he look like, Inspector?"

"It doesn't matter what he looks like, miss," he said irritably. "What I want to know is, did she mention him?"

"She had a photograph," Hester lied without compunction. At least it was a lie in essence. Prudence had had a photograph, certainly, but it was one of her father, and Hester knew that.

Jeavis's interest was quickened. "Did she, now. What was he like, the man in this photograph?"

This was no use. "Well-er…" She screwed up her face as if in a concentrated effort to find the right words.

"Come on, miss. You must have some idea!" Jeavis said urgently. "Was he coarse or refined? Handsome or homely? Was he clean-shaven, a mustache, whiskers, a beard? What was he like?"

"Oh he was fine-looking," she prevaricated, hoping he would forget his caution. "Sort of-well-it's hard to say…"

"Oh yes."

She was afraid if she did not give him a satisfactory answer soon he would lose interest. "She had it with her all the time."