Seven Dials Read Online Free PDF Page B

desk without glancing at any of the papers on it, and Pitt realized he had already read them. He had been in early, and left to go somewhere important, which he had foreseen and dressed for accordingly. It had to be to see someone high in government. Did they really care about the murder of Edwin Lovat, or that Ayesha Zakhari should be blamed? Or had something else happened?
    Pitt sat down in the opposite chair.
    Narraway’s face was tight, his eyes wide and wary, as if even here in his own room there were something to be guarded against.
    “The Egyptian ambassador went to the Foreign Office late last night,” he said in carefully measured words. “They, in turn, have spoken by telephone to Mr. Gladstone, and I was sent for this morning.”
    Pitt waited without interrupting, the chill growing inside him.
    “They were aware of the murder in Eden Lodge by yesterday afternoon,” Narraway continued. “But it was in the afternoon papers, so half of London knew of it.” He stopped again. Pitt noticed that Narraway’s hands were stiff on the desk, his slender fingers rigid.
    “And the embassy knew that Ayesha Zakhari was arrested,” Pitt concluded. “Since she is an Egyptian citizen, I suppose it is natural for them to enquire after her well-being, and ensure that she was properly represented. I would expect as much of the British embassy were I arrested in a foreign country.”
    Narraway’s mouth twisted a little. “You would expect the British ambassador to call the first minister of that country on your behalf? You overrate yourself, Pitt. A junior consul might see that you were appointed a lawyer, but not more than that.”
    There was no time to be embarrassed or annoyed. Obviously something had happened that worried Narraway profoundly.
    “Does Miss Zakhari have some importance that we were unaware of?” Pitt asked.
    “Not so far as I know,” Narraway replied. “Although it does raise the question.” His expression of anxiety deepened. His fingers curled and uncurled, as if he were making sure he could still feel them. “The question raised was one of justice.” He took a deep breath, as though it was difficult for him to say this, even to Pitt. “The ambassador was aware that Saville Ryerson was at Eden Lodge when the police found Miss Zakhari with the body, and they want to know why he was not arrested also.”
    It was a perfectly reasonable question, but that was not the thought that rippled through Pitt like fire in the bones. “How did they know that?” he asked. “Surely no one allowed her to contact her embassy and say such a thing? Anyway, didn’t she tell the police at the time that she was alone? Who told the ambassador?”
    Narraway’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile and his eyes were hard. “An excellent question, Pitt. In fact, it is the principal question, and I don’t know the answer. Except that it was not the police, nor was it any lawyer of Miss Zakhari’s, because she has not yet asked for one. And Inspector Talbot assures me that she has not answered any further questions or mentioned Ryerson’s name to anyone.”
    “What about the constable who was first on the scene… Cotter?”
    “Believe me, Talbot has had him over the coals at least twice, and Cotter swears he spoke to no one outside the station, except you.” There was no accusation in his voice, not even doubt.
    “Which leaves us with our anonymous informer who heard the shots and called the police,” Pitt concluded. “Apparently he-or she-remained around to see what happened, and presumably saw Ryerson and recognized him.”
    “It was hardly the first time he’d been there,” Narraway pointed out. “They may have seen him on several occasions before.” He frowned, his fingers still stiff on the tabletop. “But it raises further questions, beginning with why tell the Egyptian embassy and not the newspapers, who would almost certainly pay them?”
    Pitt said nothing.
    Narraway stared at him. “Or Ryerson,