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tained not a name at all but a sort of design, like the small drawings
the ancient Egyptians had used to signify a word, a name. He had
heard them called cartouches. This one was a circle, with a semi-
circle inside it arched over the top of a figure like a small F, but
backwards. It was very simple, and to him at least had no meaning
whatsoever.
Why would someone be so secretive that even Maude Lamont
herself did this odd drawing rather than write his or her name?
There was nothing illegal in consulting a spirit medium. It was not
even scandalous, or for that matter a subject of ridicule, except for
those who had portrayed themselves as otherwise and were thus
branded as hypocrites. People of every walk of life had indulged in
it, some as serious investigations, others purely as entertainment.
And there were always the lonely, the insecure, the grieving who
needed the assurance that those they had loved still existed some-
where and cared about them even beyond the grave. Perhaps Chris-
tianity, at least as the church preached it now, no longer did that
for them.
He riffled through the pages to see if there were any more car-
touches, but he saw none, only the same one half a dozen times pre-
viously over the months of May and June. The person appeared to
have come every ten days or so, irregularly.
Looking again, Pitt saw also that Roland Kingsley had been
seven times before, and Rose Serracold ten times. Only three times
had they all come to the same session. He looked at the other
names and saw many of them repeated over the months, others
were there once or twice, or perhaps for three or four weeks in a
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SOUTHAMPTON ROW
row, and then not again. Were they satisfied or disillusioned? Tell-
man would have to find them and ask, learn what it was that
Maude Lamont gave them, what it had to do with the strange sub-
stance found in her mouth and throat.
Why had a sophisticated woman like Rose Serracold come here
to seek for voices, apparitions answers to what? Surely there was
some connection between her presence and that of Roland Kingsley?
He felt rather than saw Tellman just beyond the doorway. He
turned towards him.
The question was in Tellman s face.
Pitt passed him the book and saw him look down at it, then
up again.  What does it mean? Tellman asked, pointing to the
cartouche.
 I ve no idea, Pitt admitted.  Someone so desperate to remain
unidentified that Maude Lamont would not write their name even
in her own diary.
 Perhaps she didn t know it? Tellman said. He took a deep
breath.  Maybe that s why she was killed? She found out.
 And tried to blackmail him? Over what?
 Whatever made him keep coming here a secret, Tellman
replied.  Maybe he wasn t a client? Perhaps he was a lover? That
could be worth killing over. His mouth twisted.  Maybe that s your
Special Branch interest. He s some politician who can t afford to be
found in an affair at election time. His eyes were challenging, an-
gry to be included in the case against his will and yet told nothing,
used but not informed.
Pitt had been waiting for the hurt to show. He felt the stab of it,
yet it was almost a relief to have it open between them at last.
 Possibly, but I doubt it, he said bluntly.  At least not that I
know. I haven t any idea why Special Branch is involved, but as far
as I am aware, Mrs. Serracold is my only interest. And if she turns
out to have killed Maude Lamont then I shall have to pursue her as
I would anyone else.
Tellman relaxed a trifle, but he did his best to hide the fact from
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ANNE PERRY
Pitt. He straightened his shoulders a little.  What are we trying to
protect Mrs. Serracold from? If he was aware of having used the
plural to include himself he gave no sign of it.
 Political betrayal, Pitt replied.  Her husband is standing for
Parliament. His opponent may use corrupt or illegal means to dis-
credit him.
 You mean through his wife? Tellman looked startled.  Is that
what this is . . . a political ambush?
 Probably not. I expect it has nothing to do with her, except
chance.
Tellman did not believe him, and it showed in his face. Actu-
ally, Pitt did not really believe it himself. He had tasted Voisey s
power too fully to credit any stroke in his favor to luck.
 What is she like, this Mrs. Serracold? Tellman asked, a slight
furrow between his brows.
 I ve no idea, Pitt admitted.  I am only just beginning to learn
something about her husband, and more importantly, his opponent.
Serracold is very well off, second son of an old family. He studied
art and history at Cambridge, traveled considerably. He has great
interest in reform and is a member of the Liberal Party, standing for
the seat in South Lambeth.
Tellman s face mirrored all his emotions, although he would
have been furious to know it.  He s privileged, rich, never worked a
day in his life, and now thinks he d like to get into government and
tell the rest of us what to do and how to do it. Or more likely, what
not to do, he retaliated.
Pitt did not bother to argue. From Tellman s point of view that
was probably close enough to the truth.  More or less.
Tellman breathed out slowly; not having got the argument he
had hoped for, he felt no sense of triumph.  What kind of a person
comes to see a woman who says she speaks to ghosts? he de-
manded.  Don t they know it s all rubbish?
 People looking for something, Pitt replied.  Vulnerable,
lonely, left behind in the past because the future is unbearable for
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SOUTHAMPTON ROW
them without whomever they loved. I don t know . . . people who
can be used and exploited by those who think they have power, or
know how to create a good illusion . . . or both.
Tellman s face was a mask of disgust, pity struggling inside him.
 It ought to be illegal! he said between stiff lips.  It s like a mixture
of prostitution and the tricks of a fairground shark, but at least they
don t use your griefs to get rich on!
 We can t stop people believing whatever they want to, or need
to, Pitt replied.  Or exploring whatever truth they like.
 Truth? Tellman said derisively.  Why can t they just go to the
chapel on Sundays? But it was a question to which he did not ex-
pect an answer. He knew there was none; he had none himself. He
chose not to ask questions where answers lay in the very private [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]