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The two of them stood in the street, in the wind and the rain, as if there was no one else around.
“He did it, didn’t he? And you know it. How can he hurt you? Tell me. Perhaps I can stop it.” He spoke gently now. He wanted to protect her more than he could remember ever having wanted anything else. “Celia! What will he do if they find him guilty?”
“Leave it alone!” she said again.
“Will he do something to you? If he’s hanged, he can’t hurt you physically. Is it your house, your means? Are you dependent on him for something?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Do you think I’d let him get away with it for that?” She was angry now. “Just leave it be. Isn’t there anything you’re afraid of? Really afraid?” She was looking directly at him now, her eyes blazing.
“Not enough to save a man who would do that to a woman,” he replied. “You didn’t see her body.” The minute the words were out, he would have given anything to take them back. Her face was ashen, and she was shaking. But it was too late.
“Hanging is not a nice death.” Tears almost choked her voice.
“I know. And I wouldn’t choose to have him hanged,” Hooper answered quietly. He touched her gently, hardly feeling her flesh through the thick coat. ?
?But it isn’t up to me. They’ll hang whoever it was. Doyle, if it’s him.”
“It’s got nothing to do with Doyle,” she said in exasperation. “He’s a silly, greedy man, but he hasn’t killed anyone. Harry’s as near evil as a man can be. He killed Kate and Lister and that poor girl in the bank. And he’ll kill you just as easily.”
“Me? He can’t touch me from jail!”
“Oh, for goodness’s sake! Fisk can, and Ledburn.”
Hooper felt as if he had suddenly been stripped naked to the icy wind. He was cold to the bone. That was why she had mentioned hanging. They hanged mutineers. She had lied under oath, not to save Harry Exeter, but to save him, John Hooper.
“How…?” he stammered. Then his throat seemed to close as he gasped for breath.
Now she was looking at him clearly, without pretense, not caring that he knew her feelings. “He was looking for which of Commander Monk’s men he could blame for betraying you. Looking for weaknesses.”
“We…we didn’t…”
“Of course you didn’t. He did it himself. But he couldn’t have you know that. He read about the mutiny. He found the Ledburn family. They’re still alive. Captain Ledburn had a younger brother. At least that’s what Harry told me. And he made it very clear: if he hangs, so will you. Now just leave it alone, please. The only thing is that if they don’t hang Harry, you have to make sure they don’t hang Doyle for it—if he had no part, except to take a bit of money.”
“Why? Why did Harry kill Kate?” He was bewildered.
“Because she was beginning to realize what he was,” she answered. “How he made some of his money. She would have left him and taken her trust money with her. Now leave me. Please.”
“I can’t.” He could hardly believe he was saying the words, but there was no choice. It had caught up with him at last, and there was nothing good left but to act with honor. He realized just how much he cared for her. That she was prepared to do this to save him was reward for anything. “We must tell Monk, and I’ll face the charge. I’ve been running away too long. I didn’t kill Captain Ledburn. I tried to save him. If you believe that, I’ll take my chance with the court. Fisk knows it’s true.” He must say that quickly, before the reality of what he was doing sank in.
She looked at him very steadily. Twice she nearly spoke and then changed her mind. What was there to say?
Slowly he bent and kissed her. He held on to her for as long as he could, as long as he dared. This kiss might have to last forever. Then he took her arm and they walked to find the nearest hansom to the Wapping Police Station.
CHAPTER
21
“WHAT?” MONK COULD HARDLY believe it. And yet, standing in the Wapping Police Station looking at Hooper and the white-faced and determined figure of Celia Darwin, his struggle against acceptance was over before it began. There was no question in his mind that she was speaking the truth. The cost to her would be immense. She had lied under oath, yet her reasons were so blindingly clear.
Piece by piece it all fell into place. Exeter was guilty. From the very beginning he had chosen Monk to play his part. He was ideal for it! Brave, clever, but not clever enough. His own wife, whom he loved even more deeply than perhaps he had ever acknowledged, had been kidnapped. Monk identified with Exeter from the start, because he understood exactly the emotions that Exeter had affected to feel. All the fears were magnified, the guilt because Hester was saved but Kate had been lost. Monk had put himself in Exeter’s place, exactly as Exeter had intended.
It wasn’t about love, or even about the men who had envied Exeter’s success and perhaps blamed him for their own losses. It was about money and the wounded vanity of a man whose wife intended to leave him, for all the world to see.
Monk must make sure Exeter was convicted somehow, without lying, without sacrificing Hooper or Celia Darwin. He had one night to find a way to do that.
He must go home—think! All night if necessary.
* * *
