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It still took them nearly three-quarters of an hour. Rathbone’s chambers were all lit, and his clerk opened the door before Rathbone had time to ring the bell.
“I’ll get you tea, sir,” the clerk said. “And a couple of sandwiches. Would cold beef be satisfactory?”
“It’ll be perfect,” Rathbone said warmly.
“I already took the liberty of serving Mr. Exeter, sir. He doesn’t look well, poor man.”
Rathbone thanked him and led the way to his own suite of rooms. He opened the door, Monk on his heels.
Immediately a man standing at the hearth turned to face them. He was above average height. His thick, fair hair was liberally sprinkled with gray, visible mostly at the temples. Monk guessed he would have been good-looking, were he not frantically worried, his skin slick with sweat.
“Monk?” he asked, stepping forward. “Are you the commander of the Thames River Police?” Without waiting for an answer, he grasped Monk’s hand. “Thank you for coming. It’s a filthy night, I know. But this can’t wait. I am Harry Exeter…”
“Yes, I’m Monk.” He took the man’s hand briefly. “Rathbone told me about your situation.”
Exeter was shaking, in spite of the warmth of the room. “I’ve got almost all the money. I’m picking up the rest tomorrow. I have to be the one to hand it over. Don’t argue with me about that. They insisted. Kate…”
“I won’t argue with you, Mr. Exeter,” Monk assured him. “I’d like to know as much as you can tell me. That’s the best we can do tonight. Tell me what you know, and what you suspect. If you have ideas of who could be behind this. And, for heaven’s sake, sit down, man! Clear your head as much as you can. I have some idea how you feel.”
“How can you?” Exeter asked, his voice raised as if a sudden fury moved him. “How can you possibly know?”
“Because my wife was kidnapped a little while ago. I was lucky, I got her back. And we’ll do everything possible to get your wife back,” Monk replied.
“Oh…” Exeter looked at the floor. “I’m sorry. I…didn’t think. When something like this happens, you feel so helpless…so alone. Everyone else looks safe, and you…you don’t think anyone else can know how you feel.”
“I know. I felt desperate, too. But we got her back safely.”
Exeter searched his face, as if trying to judge how much of what Monk said was true, how much an attempt to calm him.
Monk gave him a brief, tight smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Exeter, your wife will be returned to you before we do anything to catch the kidnappers. Have you any idea who they are or why it was she who was taken? Any enemies?”
“Kate? Never!” he said vehemently.
“I meant you…your enemies.”
“Oh! Yes, I suppose so. Every successful man makes enemies. I’m good at what I do. When I win a contract, it necessarily means that someone else loses. But that’s business. I lose, sometimes. I don’t hate the man who wins. I learn from it!”
“If anything comes to your mind, do let me know,” Monk dismissed the subject. “Now tell me what happened.”
“Kate had luncheon with her cousin, Celia Darwin. They are quite close. It was a lovely day, if you remember, nothing like today. They walked along the riverbank in the afternoon.”
“Where, exactly?”
“Over Chelsea Bridge, and then along Battersea Park—”
“Were there many people about?”
“I suppose so. I really don’t know. Celia was distraught! Poor woman felt as if it were somehow her fault. I couldn’t get a lot of sense out of her. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter. We can ask your wife when we get her back. What did Celia say?”
“That a young man came up and asked the way, then started some sort of conversation. Celia’s atte
ntion was diverted, and the next moment a group of people came by and Celia and Kate were separated, and when the newcomers were gone, Kate was, too…and so was the young man. She thought at first it was nothing, just silliness, but then when Kate didn’t come back, she grew frightened and called for help. The police came, but there was no sign of Kate.”
“The police looked for her?”
Exeter’s expression filled with a mixture of anger and desperation. He seemed to be trying everything he could to keep his voice steady. “One pretty young woman, one plain one. A young man who apparently was handsome.” He spread his hands helplessly. “They drew their own conclusions. Celia told them Kate was married, and would never do such a thing. Celia was so upset. She is plain and older, and she has a pronounced limp. They thought she was feeling alone, unwanted, and they didn’t believe her. They intended to reassure her, but they only ended up insulting her.”
