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arrived for our luncheon engagement. I am sure if you wish it he will confirm what I have said.”
    Pitt let out his breath quickly. “I did not doubt you, sir. I was considering the gravity of the conclusions which that obliges, should there prove to be poison in the flask.”
    “Indeed.” Livesey’s face darkened. “Exceedingly unpleasant, I fear, but perhaps unavoidable nonetheless. I do not envy you your task, sir.”
    At last Pitt also smiled. “Not mine, Mr. Livesey. I shall hand it over to my superiors tomorrow morning, if indeed it is a case at all. I was merely responding because I was here at the time. It would be irresponsible to ignore the opportunity to gather evidence, against eventuality.”
    “Commendable, and as you say, your duty.” Livesey inclined his head. “And now if you will excuse me, I believe I can be of no further assistance. It has been a long and extremely unpleasant evening. I shall be relieved to find my carriage and take my leave. Good night to you.”
    “Good night, Mr. Livesey. Thank you for your help.”
        Charlotte returned to the box to find Caroline still there. Somehow after the reality of the tragedy its plush seats and cozy luxury, its view of the blank stage, seemed absurdly trivial. Caroline was facing the door, her expression one of anxiety. She rose to her feet as soon as Charlotte arrived.
    “What has happened? How is he?”
    “I am afraid he is dead,” Charlotte replied, closing the door behind her. “He never regained his senses, which is perhaps a blessing. What is far worse is that the otherjudge, Mr. Livesey, seems to think it may have been poison.”
    “Oh, dear heaven!” Caroline was aghast. “You mean, he took his …” Then realization struck her. “No—you don’t, do you? You mean he was murdered!”
    Charlotte sat down and took Caroline’s hand to draw her down again too.
    “Yes, it seems a strong possibility. And I am afraid there is worse, much worse …”
    “What?” Caroline’s eyes were wide. “What in heaven’s name would be worse than that?”
    “Tamar Macaulay visited him today, about a very dreadful case for which her brother was hanged, about five years ago.”
    “Hanged? Oh, Charlotte! How tragic. But whatever could Mr. Stafford have done about it?”
    “Apparently she still believes he was innocent, in spite of all the evidence, and she wanted Stafford to reopen the case. Mrs. Stafford said Tamar had pestered him for a long time, and he was quite upset by it. After she left he went out very hastily and told Mrs. Stafford he was going to see the other principal suspects in the case.”
    “And you think one of them murdered him?” Caroline concluded with distress. “And that—that was what we saw: We saw him murdered?”
    “Yes. But Mama, the other suspects were a man called O’Neil—and Joshua Fielding.”
    Caroline stared at her, her eyes hurt, her face full of confusion.
    “Joshua Fielding,” she repeated, blinking. “Suspected of murder? Who? Who was killed?”
    “A man called Blaine. Apparently it was a very shocking case. He was crucified.”
    “What?” Caroline could not grasp what she had said. “You mean—no, you can’t! It’s …”
    “Against a door,” Charlotte went on. “They hanged Tamar’s brother, but she has never believed him guilty. I’m sorry.”
    “But why Joshua Fielding? Why should he kill this man? What reason could he have?”
    “I don’t know. Mrs. Stafford just said that the judge went to see both Mr. Fielding and Mr. O’Neil after Tamar called on him today.” She gave a harsh little laugh. “Or it must be yesterday, by now.”
    “What is Thomas doing?”
    “Finding out all he can, so that when he hands it over to whoever will look into the case—if, of course, it is poison and there is a case—so that they have all they can to begin with.”
    “Yes. I see.” She shivered. “I suppose it would be remiss not to act. I had no idea when you married a policeman of