Treachery at Lancaster Gate Read Online Free PDF Page B

alone, as Pitt had expected, but with a woman of striking appearance. She was in her fifties, at least ten years older than Charlotte, but beautiful in a quiet way, which seemed to grow more intense the longer one looked at her.
    Pitt rose to his feet.
    “I’m sorry,” the visitor said. “I see this is an extremely inconvenient hour, but I would not have come had I thought I would find you in at any other time.”
    From another woman the remark would have seemed strange, but Isadora Cornwallis was the wife of the previous Assistant Commissioner of Police, the man who had been Pitt’s superior when he was at Bow Street. Cornwallis and Pitt had been more than just colleagues; there was a trust between them, established through heavy and hard-fought battles. Side by side they had faced some bitter enemies. One of the worst had been Isadora’s brother. She had shared grief with both Cornwallis and Pitt, and found a very deep love with Cornwallis. Although at first it had seemed hopeless, because she was still married, her husband had died, leaving her free to follow her heart.
    “I’m afraid that’s true,” he agreed. “Would you like a cup of tea?” He glanced at the clock on the dresser. “Or a glass of sherry?” Then he wondered if they even had sherry. It was not something they drank unless they had company, which was rare enough. “If we have it,” he added.
    “Tea would be excellent,” she accepted.
    Charlotte shook her head at Pitt, as if she was surprised he had not taken as much for granted.
    “I’ll bring it through to the parlor,” she said quickly.
    He knew that Isadora would not have come without good reason. He searched her face for a moment for signs of grief or fear, and found none. Had Cornwallis been ill it would have been written there in her demeanor, however she might seek to disguise it.
    In the parlor the curtains were drawn against the winter night. The fire was long settled in hot coals in the grate, filling the room with warmth.
    Isadora sat down in the armchair opposite Pitt’s, and he took his own.
    “I have come to give you some information that I regret deeply having to pass on, but it may have something to do with the bombing at Lancaster Gate. I give it to you in confidence and trust that you will treat it accordingly, and act on it only if things should prove to be as I fear.”
    “Of course.” He was uncertain what she could possibly know that might have to do with the bombing. Were it anything of a police nature then it would be Cornwallis who would know. Surely she was not going to tell him something indiscreet, even secret? It was beyond his imagination that she should betray her husband’s trust.
    She began as if the whole subject distressed her. There was a tension in her voice and her hands were stiff on her lap, her usual grace completely absent.
    “I assume that you have learned very little so far?” It was a tentative question. Clearly she did not know how much she could ask without being told, albeit courteously, that it was confidential to Special Branch.
    “Nothing at all as to who it might be,” he answered honestly. “The only avenue of approach we have is to find out how the dynamite was obtained. That is very probably through one of the usual sources for any anarchist.”
    “Are you certain it is an anarchist behind this?” she said very seriously. Something in her tone caused a chill to grip him. It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped.
    “No,” he answered. “I don’t see any anarchist purpose in killing our police in this manner. When it comes to foreign groups, we tolerate them here because they are where we can see them. We have moderately good relationships with the countries they come from. Our own homegrown anarchists are more trouble, but so far major bombings are not their style. Sabotage, insurrection, and strikes are more useful to them. Why do you ask?” He sounded impatient. He had not meant to, but he was tired and