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"No, none at all," Lucius said quickly. "There was no quarrel, no incident at all which sparked it. Mrs. Gardiner was standing alone, watching the croquet match when, without warning or explanation, she simply left."
"With Treadwell?"
"She left in the carriage," Stourbridge corrected him. "She could hardly have driven it herself."
A flash of irritation crossed Robb’s face and then disappeared, as if he had remembered their distress. "Had Mrs. Gardiner any previous acquaintance with Treadwell, perhaps through the cook?"
"No," Lucius said instantly. "She had met no one in the house before I first took her there."
"Where did you meet Mrs. Gardiner?"
"On Hampstead Heath. Why? It is natural enough that he should bring her back here. She lives on Lyndhurst Road."
Robb pursed his lips. "That is about three quarters of a mile from where the carriage was found, and rather more from where Treadwell’s body was. I assume you have already been to her home to see if she was there?"
"Of course! No one has seen her since she left to come to Bayswater," Lucius answered. "It is the first place we looked. Please, tell us what you know of Treadwell’s death, I beg you."
They were outside in the street again now. Lucius stood breathing deeply, as if trying to clear his lungs of the choking air of the morgue with its close smell of death. Even so, he did not take his eyes from Robb’s face.
"We know nothing except that he was murdered," Robb replied. "We did not even know his name until you gave it to us, although from his clothes we assumed his occupation."
"Was there nothing found in the carriage?" Stourbridge asked with a frown. "No marks or stains to indicate where it had been? What about the horses? Are they hurt?"
"No, they were lost, confused, aware that something was wrong. There was nothing to indicate they had bolted. The harness was not broken. The reins were still tied to the bar, as if the driver had stopped, then climbed down rather than fallen. The carriage itself has no scratches or marks but those of ordinary use."
Stourbridge turned questioningly to Monk.
"There is nothing further you can do here now," Monk assured him. "Thank you for coming to identify Treadwell. Perhaps you had better return home and inform your family— and, of course, the cook. She is bound to be distressed. As soon as I learn anything more, I will tell you."
Lucius stood still. "The answer must be here!" he insisted desperately, loath to leave without something further accomplished.
Stourbridge touched his elbow. "Perhaps, but Mr. Monk will find it more easily if we do not hamper him."
Lucius did not move.
"Come," Stourbridge said gently. "We shall only make it more difficult."
Reluctantly, still half disbelieving, Lucius bade good-bye and permitted himself to be led away.
"You realize I shall have to find this woman?" Robb shoved his hands deep in his pockets, staring grimly at Monk. He looked guarded, careful, his shoulders hunched a little. "At best she may be witness to the murder, at worst a victim herself."
It was unarguable. Monk said nothing.
"Or she may be guilty herself," Robb went on. "That blow could have been struck by a woman, if she were frightened enough or angry enough. Perhaps you will now be frank and tell me what you know of this Mrs. Gardiner. Since Mr. Stourbridge seems to have hired you to find her, presumably you know a great deal more than you have so far told me."
There was no evading it now, and perhaps it was the only way to help Lucius Stourbridge. Whatever the truth was, one day he would have to face at least part of it. Some details might be kept from him, but not the essence. If Miriam Gardiner were involved in the murder of Treadwell, it would be public knowledge sooner or later. Monk could not protect him from that, even if she were no more than a witness. And unless Treadwell had set her down somewhere before he reached the Heath, that seemed an unavoidable conclusion. It was plain in Robb’s face now as he looked grimly at Monk, ignoring the traffic passing by them and the people on foot having to walk around.
Monk told Robb the outline of his interview with Lucius Stourbridge and his visit to Bayswater. He gave no more detail than was necessary to be honest, and none of his own impressions, except that he had believed what he had been told so far.
Robb looked thoughtful, biting his lips. "And no one gave you any idea why Mrs. Gardiner should have run off in this way?"
"No."
"Where did Treadwell serve before Bayswater? Where was he born?"
Monk felt himself flush with annoyance. They were obvious questions, and he had not thought to ask them. It was a stupid oversight. He had concentrated on Miriam, thinking of Treadwell only as someone to drive the coach for her. It was instinctive to try to defend himself, but there was nothing to say which would not make his omission look worse.
"I don’t know." The words were hollow, an open failure.
