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“A hostage, perhaps. Or maybe willingly, going to board the seagoing ship farther down the river.”
“I never saw ’er. But then them barges ’as cabins, sort o’. She could ’a bin below.… Gawd ’elp ’er. Wish I’d ’a known. I’d ’a done summink!” He shook his head. “There’s river police!” His expression betrayed that that would have been a last resort, but in times of extremity he would have abandoned his own principles and turned to them.
Lanyon shrugged ruefully.
Monk said nothing, but settled in his seat for the journey back to Blackwall, and then eventually to the city, to tell Mrs. Alberton that Breeland had got away and there was nothing he and Lanyon, or anyone else, could do about it.
Monk arrived at Tavistock Square early in the evening. He was not surprised to find Casbolt there. And in truth he was relieved to see him. It was easier to tell him such bare facts as he had, simply because his emotion could not possibly be as deep or his bereavement as dreadful as Judith’s.
He was shown into the withdrawing room immediately. Casbolt was standing by the empty hearth, the fireplace now covered with a delicate tapestry screen. He looked pale, as if his composure cost him great effort. Judith Alberton stood by the window as if she had been gazing out at the roses just the other side of the glass, but she turned as Monk came in. The hope in her face twisted inside him with pity, and with guilt because he could do nothing to help. He brought no news that was of any comfort.
The atmosphere was electric, as if the air even inside the room were waiting for thunder.
She stared at him, as if to guess from his face what he would say, trying to guard herself from pain, and yet she could not let go of all hope.
He cleared his throat. “They put the guns on a barge and took them downriver as far as Greenwich. They must have had a ship waiting, and loaded them there.” He looked at Judith, not at Casbolt, but he was acutely conscious of him watching, hanging on every word. “There was no sign of Merrit,” he added, dropping his voice still further. “The last witness we spoke to, a waterman near Greenwich, saw two men, one tall and upright with an accent he couldn’t place, and a shorter, heavier man, but no woman. Sergeant Lanyon, who is in charge, won’t give up, but the best we can hope for is that he finds the barge owner and proves his complicity. He could prosecute him as an accomplice.”
He thought of adding something about there being no evidence that Merrit had come to any harm, then knew it would be stupid. Nothing would have been easier than to take Merrit along and dump her body as soon as they were clear of the estuary. Judith must surely have thought of that too, if not now, then she would soon, in the long days ahead.
“I see …” she whispered. “Thank you for coming to tell me that. It cannot have been easy.”
Casbolt moved toward her. “Judith …” His face was gray, twisted with pity.
She held up her hand quite gently, but as if to keep him from coming any closer. Monk wondered whether if he touched her she would not be able to keep her control. Sympathy might be more than she could bear. Perhaps any emotion would be too much.
She walked forward very slowly to Monk. Even in this state of distress she was remarkably beautiful, and quite unlike any other woman he had ever seen. With that large mouth she should have been plain, but it was sensuous, quick to smile in the past, now tightly controlled on the edge of tears, speaking all her vulnerability. Her high, slanted cheekbones caught the light.
“Mr. Monk, where do you believe Lyman Breeland has gone?”
“To America with the guns,” he said instantly. He had no doubt of it at all.
“And my daughter?”
“With him.” He was not so certain, but it was the only possible answer to give her.
She kept her composure. “Willingly, do you believe?”
He had no idea. There were all sorts of possibilities, most of them ugly. “I don’t know, but none of the people we spoke to saw anything of a struggle.”
She swallowed with an effort. “She may also have been taken with him as a hostage, may she not? I cannot believe she would have had any willing part in her father’s death, even if she did not disapprove of stealing the guns. She is hotheaded and very young.” Her voice cracked and nearly broke. “She does not think things through to the end, but there is no malice in her. She would never condone … murder.” She forced herself to use the word, and the pain of it was sharp in her voice. “Of anyone.”
“Judith!” Casbolt protested again, his agony for her naked in his face. “Please! Don’t torture yourself! There is no way we can know what happened. Of course Merrit would not willingly have any part in it … in violence. She almost certainly knows nothing of it. And she is obviously in love with Breeland.”
He was standing very close to her now, but he refrained from making any attempt to touch her, no matter how slightly. “People do many extraordinary things when they are in love. Men and women will sacrifice anything at all for the person they care for.” His voice was husky, as if he spoke through continual fear so intense it had become physical. “If Breeland loves her, he will never harm her, no matter what else he may do. You must believe that. The most evil man can still be capable of love. Breeland is obsessed with winning his war. He has lost all sight of the morality you and I would hold a necessity of civilized life, but he may still treat the woman he loves with tenderness and consideration, and even give his life to protect her.” At last he did touch her, gently, with trembling hands. “Please, do not fear he will harm her. She has chosen to go with him. She almost certainly has no idea what he has done. He will keep it from her, for her sake. She will never know. Perhaps when she reaches America she may even write and tell you she is well and safe. Please … don’t despair!”
She turned to him at last, the very faintest smile on her lips.
“My dear Robert, you have been a strength to me as you always have, and I love you for it. I trust you as I do no one else at all. But I must do what I believe to be right. Please do not try to dissuade me. I am quite determined. I shall value you even more, if that were possible, if you could support me, but regardless, I must do this. You have already done a great deal for us, and were the situation not so desperate I would ask no more, but my child is in a danger from which I can do nothing to protect her. At the very best, she has eloped with the man who murdered her father, and he may or may not wish her harm. But he is an evil man, and even if he believes he loves her, he cannot be the man she would wish.”
“Judith …” Casbolt began to protest.
She ignored him. Perhaps she did not even hear. “At worst he has no care for her, and simply took advantage of her love for him to take her with him as hostage, and if he fears the British police will pursue him, he will use her to effect his escape. When she is no longer of use to him, he … he may kill her also.”
Casbolt drew in his breath in a gasp.
Monk did not argue. It was true, and it would be cruelty to allow her to doubt it and then have to gather her courage to face it again.
“Mr. Monk, will you go to America and do everything you can to bring Merrit back home … by force if persuasion will not move her?”
