Hyde Park Headsman by Anne Perry

Author:Anne Perry [Perry, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group

But it was another two long days of painstaking work with petty details of discussions, meetings and partings, half-heard conversations and glimpses of people, before Pitt had traced a dozen or so of Arledge’s acquaintances and begun to eliminate them from any suspicion. He was losing heart. They were all very properly accounted for, and their relationships were above reproach.

Tired, sore footed and discouraged, Pitt presented himself at the door of a much respected businessman who had contributed funds to the small orchestra which Aidan Arledge had frequently conducted. Perhaps Mr. Jerome Carvell had a beautiful wife?

The door was opened by a tall butler with a long, curved nose and a supercilious mouth.

“Good evening, sir.” He looked Pitt up and down questioningly. Apparently he was uncertain of what he saw. The weariness and confidence in Pitt’s expression belied the rather sloppy abandon of his clothes and the dust covering his boots.

“Good evening,” Pitt replied, fishing for his card and giving it to him. “I apologize for calling so late, and unannounced, but the matter is somewhat urgent. May I perhaps speak with Mr. or Mrs. Carvell?”

“I will ask Mr. Carvell if he will see you, sir,” the butler replied.

“I should like to speak to Mrs. Carvell also,” Pitt insisted.

“Impossible, sir.”

“It is important.”

The butler’s eyebrows rose higher. “There is no Mrs. Carvell, sir.”

“Oh.” Pitt felt unreasonably disappointed. Even if Mr. Carvell were as good a friend to Arledge as he had been led to suppose, and knew of his personal life, he would not now betray it to the police.

“Did you wish to see Mr. Carvell, sir?” The butler looked a trifle impatient.

“Yes please,” Pitt replied, more out of irritation than hope.

“Then if you will come this way, sir, I will inquire if that is possible.” Turning on his heel, the butler led the way to a small, very gracious study, wood paneled and lined with shelves of leather-bound books which looked unusually well read, arranged in order of subject, not of appearance.

Pitt was left for barely five minutes, during which time he looked at the titles and noted such areas of interest as exploration, classical drama, entomology, medieval architecture and the raising of roses. Then the door opened and he saw a man of perhaps forty-five. His fairish hair was beginning to turn gray at the temples and his face was of marked individuality and extraordinary intelligence. No one would have called him handsome—his skin was marked by some past disease, perhaps smallpox, and his teeth were far from straight—and yet he had such humor and perception that Pitt found himself regarding him with immediate liking.

“Mr. Carvell?”

“Yes?” Carvell came in looking anxious. “Superintendent Pitt? Have I done something amiss? I was not aware of anything …”

“I doubt there is anything, sir,” Pitt replied honestly. “I am calling only in case you may have some knowledge which could help …”

“Oh dear. With what?” Carvell came farther in and waved absently for Pitt to sit down. He perched on one of the other easy chairs.

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