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ask us than to go around inquiring of the whole neighborhood."
"Good God!" Lovel's face fell. "You cannot be serious. To allow him to do that would be monstrous. We'd be ruined."
"Nonsense!" She closed her address book with a snap and replaced it in the drawer. "We do not ruin so easily. There have been Shelburnes on the land for five hundred years, and will continue to be. However I have no intention of allowing Mr. Monk to do any such thing." She looked at Monk coldly. "That is why I am providing him with a list myself, and suitable questions to ask—and to avoid."
"There is no need to do either." Lovel turned furiously from his mother to Monk and back again, his color high. "Whoever killed Joscelin must have been one of his London acquaintances—if indeed it really was someone he knew at all, which I still doubt. In spite of what you say, I believe it was purely chance he was the victim, and not someone else. I daresay he was seen at a club, or some such place, by someone who saw he had money and hoped to rob him."
"It was not robbery, sir," Monk said firmly. "There were all sorts of valuable items quite visible and untouched in his rooms, even the money in his wallet was still there."
"And how do you know how much he had in his wallet?" Lovel demanded. "He may have had hundreds!"
"Thieves do not usually count out change and return it to you," Monk replied, moderating the natural sarcasm in his voice only slightly.
Lovel was too angry to stop. "And have you some reason to suppose this was a 'usual' thief? I did not know you had proceeded so far. In fact I did not know you had proceeded at all."
"Most unusual, thank heaven." Monk ignored the jibe. "Thieves seldom kill. Did Major Grey often walk about with hundreds of pounds in his pocket?''
Lovel's face was scarlet. He threw the crop across the room, intending it to land on the sofa, but it fell beyond and rattled to the floor. He ignored it. "No of course not!" he shouted. "But then this was a unique occasion. He was not simply robbed and left lying, he was beaten to death, if you remember."
Lady Fabia's face pinched with misery and disgust.
"Really, Lovel, the man is doing his best, for whatever that is worth. There is no need to be offensive."
Suddenly his tone changed. "You are upset, Mama; and it's quite natural that you should be. Please leave this to me. If I think there is anything to tell Mr. Monk, I shall do so. Why don't you go into the withdrawing room and have tea with Rosamond?"
"Don't patronize me, Lovel!" she snapped, rising to her feet. "I am not too upset to conduct myself properly, and to help the police find the man who murdered my son."
"There is nothing whatsoever we can do, Mama!" He was fast losing his temper again. "Least of all assist them to pester half the country for personal information about poor Joscelin's life and friends."
"It was one of poor Joscelin's 'friends' who beat him to death!" Her cheeks were ashen white and a lesser woman might well have fainted before now, but she stood ramrod stiff, her white hands clenched.
"Rubbish!" Lovel dismissed it instantly. "It was probably someone he played at cards and who simply couldn't take losing. Joscelin gambled a damned sight more than he led you to believe. Some people play for stakes they can't afford, and then when they're beaten, they lose control of themselves and go temporarily off their heads." He breathed in and out hard. "Gaming clubs are not always as discriminating as they should be as to whom they allow in. That is quite probably what happened to Joscelin. Do you seriously imagine anyone at Shelburne would know anything about it?"
"It is also possible it was someone who was jealous
over a woman," she answered icily. "Joscelin was very charming, you know."
Lovel flushed and the whole skin of his face appeared to tighten.
"So I have frequently been reminded," he said in a soft, dangerous little voice. "But not everyone was as susceptible to it as you, Mama. It is a very superficial quality."
She stared at him with something that bordered on contempt.
"You never understood charm, Lovel, which is your great misfortune. Perhaps you would be good enough to order extra tea in the withdrawing room." Deliberately she ignored her son and contravened propriety, as if to annoy him. "Will you join us, Mr. Monk? Perhaps my daughter-in-law may be able to suggest something. She was accustomed to attend many of the same functions as Joscelin, and women are frequently more observant of other women, especially where"—she hesitated—"affairs of the emotions are concerned."
Without waiting for his reply she assumed his compliance and, still ignoring Lovel, turned to the door and stopped.
Lovel wavered for only the barest second, then he came forward obediently and opened the door for her. She swept through without looking again at either of them.
In the withdrawing room the atmosphere was stiff. Rosamond had difficulty hiding her amazement at being expected to take tea with a policeman as if he were a gentleman; and even the maid with the extra cups and muffins seemed uncomfortable. Apparently the below-stairs gossip had already told her who Monk was. Monk silently thought of Evan, and wondered if he had made any progress.
When the maid had handed everyone their cups and plates and was gone Lady Fabia began in a level, quiet voice, avoiding Lovel's eyes.
"Rosamond, my dear, the police require to know everything they can about Joscelin's social activities in the
last few months before he died. You attended most of the same functions, and are thus more aware of any relationships than I. For example, who might have shown more interest in him than was prudent?"
"I?" Rosamond was either profoundly surprised or a better actress than Monk had judged her to be on their earlier meeting.
