Revelation

Chapter Forty-two

WHEN I WOKE my first terrible thought was that I was dead and had been sent to Hell for my unbelief, for all around me was smoke, lit from behind by fire. Then I saw white circular lights moving in the smoke. One approached and for a dizzy moment I feared to see a demon, but the shape resolved itself into Harsnet's face, looking shocked and streaked with smoke-marks. He knelt beside me and I realized I was lying on my side on damp grass, and then that my back was bare, for a chill breeze wafted across it.

'Stay still, Master Shardlake,' Harsnet said in soothing tones. 'Your back is burned, not badly but the village healing man has been, he has applied some lavender to it.' I became conscious then that my back hurt; at the same time the echo of a distant, tremendous explosion seemed to sound in my ears. I realized that Harsnet's voice sounded strangely muffled.

I sat up, shaking my head. A blanket half covered me and I pulled it round to cover my bare back, a movement that hurt it, making me wince.

'I said that was the first thing you'd do when you woke up,' a voice beside me said. I turned to see Barak beside me, his lower half also covered with a blanket. Other men were lying in similar positions all over the long grass of the lawn. I turned my neck painfully. Behind me, at the far end of the lawn, the Goddard house was ablaze from end to end, flames and smoke belching from the windows and from the collapsed roof.

'He had gunpowder,' I said, clutching Harsnet's arm. 'He was in there, he lit the barrels—'

'Yes,' the coroner said gently. 'It is over. The back of the house has collapsed and the rest is burning fast. You saved our lives, sir, by calling out to us.'

'Did everyone get out?'

'Yes. But several others were injured by the blast. One of Sir Thomas' men was thrown through the air and landed on his head. He is likely to die. A doctor has been sent for from Barnet. You worried us, sir, you have been unconscious over an hour.'

'Are you hurt?' I asked Barak.

'Came down with a bit of a bang, like you. Think I've cracked a couple of ribs.'

'Why is there a blanket over your legs?'

'The explosion blew my hose off. Your robe was blown to tatters too, and your doublet.' He spoke lightly, but looking at his eyes I saw the horror in them that he probably saw in mine.

'It is all over,' Harsnet said quietly. 'He poured out the seventh vial, and made the earth shake. He killed himself doing it, probably thought he would be taken up to Heaven.' His mouth set. 'But now he will have found himself in Hell!' He hesitated. 'We think the seventh victim was you.'

'How did he know I would be here?'

'He knew you were at the centre of the investigation,' he said. He grasped at his left shoulder and winced; he had been hurt too. 'You said yourself he would know a large party of men would come here. You would probably be with them. That fuse must have been set slightly too long, or everyone in that part of the house would have been killed. He didn't care how many died,' he added bitterly. 'Ah, there is the doctor.'

I saw Sir Thomas and Russell, with a man in a physician's robe, walking among the wounded on the lawn.

'The men are being told Goddard was an alchemist,' Harsnet went on. 'That we were after him for conducting forbidden experiments, and he blew the place up by accident. Half the local villagers have turned out; Sir Thomas' men are keeping them to the other side of the woods.'

'Why would Goddard kill himself, just at the culmination of his great scheme?' I asked. 'Surely if he thought it would bring about Armageddon he would want to see it.'

'Who knows what went on in his mind? I think he was possessed after all, Master Shardlake, and now the devil has gathered his soul.'

Harsnet's voice still sounded muffled. I hoped my ears had not been permanently damaged. I lay back on one elbow, exhausted. 'Would you like me to fetch you some water?' he asked.

'Please.' When he left me, I lay down in the long grass, wincing at the pain that spread across my entire back. Then I sat up again, drawing the blanket round me, and looked at the burning house. There was a crash and a cloud of sparks as the last of the roof caved in. I turned to Barak.

'It's not over,' I said.

'But we saw him, that was Goddard, the mole on his nose and the cut on his cheek from where Orr ripped off his fake beard. He set a trap, he had plenty of warning with the geese and then us crashing in to set the fuse so it would blow us all to kingdom come.'

'But it didn't. We all got out.'

'Only just.'

I sat up slowly, rubbed a hand across my face, felt giddy for a moment. 'Did you see the window above those gunpowder barrels? The shutter was open slightly. There could have been someone else in there, who lit the fuse and got out. What if the fuse was timed so that whoever saw him would be able to get out of the room and testify the killer was himself dead?'

'But he was sitting there grinning at us. We saw him. Sit down, please.'

'What if Goddard wasn't the killer? What if the seven vials are only a stage in some larger pageant? The next stage of which he can go on to untroubled if he is believed dead?' I stood up, unsteadily. Barak grabbed at the blanket.

'Lie down. You've been unconscious an hour.' But I planted my feet on the grass and called out to Sir Thomas' party, my voice sounding to me as though it was coming from under water. Barak plucked at my blanket again. 'If you tell Sir Thomas we haven't got the killer after all, he'll be furious. He's in a bad enough state as it is.'

But I stepped away as Sir Thomas and Russell approached with the doctor. Sir Thomas looked subdued.

'Well, Shardlake,' he said. 'Here's a spectacular end to your hunt. You got out.' He looked at me accusingly. 'One of my men is like to die.'

'I am sorry for it. But I am not sure Goddard was the killer,' I said. 'I think there was someone else in that room, who may have got away.' I turned to Russell. 'Did any of your men hear or see anything in the woods after the explosion?'

'Your brains are addled,' Sir Thomas said angrily, and the doctor, a thin elderly man with a long beard, looked at me sharply. But Russell nodded slowly.

'Yes. Just afterwards one of my men saw something moving through the woods, said it looked like a man. But it was chaos there, the light almost gone, everyone shocked by the explosion and animals panicking and running to and fro in the shadows.'

'A deer,' Sir Thomas said. But from the look Russell gave me I could see he doubted too.

A HEADQUARTERS had been set up in the stables behind Goddard's house. I got Russell to help me there, then fetch the man who had seen something. He was another of Sir Thomas' young servants, keen and sharp. 'I was sure it was a man that darted past me,' he said. 'It was just a glimpse, a figure darting between the trees, but I would swear it moved on two legs, not four.'

I was sitting on a bale of hay, Barak beside me. He looked at the young man and then at me. 'God help us. If not Goddard, then who is the killer?'

'I do not know.' I turned to Russell. 'The back of the house did not catch fire?'

'No. It collapsed in the explosion. Anything left of Goddard will be under there.'

'I would like the rubble cleared, and Dean Benson brought here to identify anything that is left of Goddard.'

'He won't like that,' Barak observed. 'He is still here, but he's been told Goddard blew himself up.'

'Sir Thomas wants this matter closed, sir,' Russell said in a warning tone.

'Perhaps if it is put to him that we need to ensure the killer is not still at large, and if he refuses and someone else is killed it will not reflect well on him.' I smiled at the steward. 'I am sure you are used to putting uncomfortable things to your master diplomatically.'

The young man ran a hand to his thatch of blond hair. Like everyone else he was dirty and dishevelled. 'I'll do what I can.'

'And I will tackle Harsnet,' I said.

I HAD COME to have respect for Harsnet's acumen, but when he came into the stables, rubbing the shoulder he had hurt when the explosion blew him over, my suggestion horrified him.

'We can't do that,' he said. 'All on the word of what a servant thought he saw in the dark. We'll have trouble with Dean Benson, and Sir Thomas will be furious. He dislikes you already, Master Shardlake. He is not a good man to make an enemy of—'

'I have made greater enemies than him.'

Harsnet shook his head. 'It is over. Goddard ended it on his own terms but he did end it. Our duty now is to tell the Archbishop so, urgently.'

I looked at him. 'I know everyone would like it to be over. I wish I could believe that myself. But we cannot always believe what suits us.'

THE STEWARD Russell turned out to be a better persuader than me, and an hour later those of Sir Thomas' men who were uninjured were dismantling the pile of rubble that was all that remained of the rear wing. Russell worked with his men. The explosion had thrown much of the stonework outwards, but part of the roof had collapsed straight down on to the interior of the house. I stood watching as the slates were lifted. Beside me was a frowning Sir Thomas. Harsnet stood at a little distance, occasionally shaking his head. Beside him Dean Benson sat on a lump of brickwork.

'Wherever he goes,' Barak said, 'that old arsehole always finds somewhere to sit down.' He stood beside me nursing his ribs, which the doctor had tied up with bandages.

To my relief, my hearing seemed to be clearing. 'Yes.' I looked out over the ghastly scene. Of the big old house nothing remained but a few skeletal walls within which rubble still smoked. The workmen cast nervous glances at the nearest wall, lest it collapse. On the lawn dazed figures wrapped in blankets still sat, looking at the burned house where they had so nearly died. A cart had arrived from Barnet and the more badly injured were being loaded on to it, supervised by the doctor and Magistrate Goodridge.

A shout from Russell made me turn round. Sir Thomas and Harsnet joined me in scrambling up the rubble. He was pointing at something by his feet. I saw that he had uncovered a severed arm wearing the tatters of a monk's robe, the hand undamaged and ghastly white. A moment later a man lifted a slate and jumped back with a cry. Underneath we saw a severed head, barely recognizable, for it was covered in thick dust. Sir Thomas, quite unaffected, took a handkerchief and began cleaning dust from the ghastly thing.

It was the man who had been sitting in the throne-like chair. The eyes had been blown out, leaving empty red sockets, but I recognized the mole on the nose, the slash on the cheek. Astoundingly the head was still smiling and then, fighting a rush of nausea, I saw why. Tiny nails had been hammered in to hold the mouth open, run through the flesh into the jaw. I looked up at Harsnet. 'This man was dead when we entered that room,' I said.

Seymour bent and picked up the head with no more concern than if it had been a football. I remembered the ghastly story of the cart full of Turkish heads in Hungary. He carried it, a little blood still dripping from the severed neck, to where Dean Benson sat. The cleric jumped up, his eyes wide with horror. 'Is that a—'

'A head, yes.' He held it up. 'Whose?'

'That is Lancelot Goddard,' Benson said, and collapsed in a dead faint.

EARLY IN THE MORNING of the next day, Barak and I sat at breakfast. The journey back from Kinesworth had been uncomfortable for both of us, we had gone to bed early and slept late. I had tossed and turned uneasily, for pressure on my back brought pain from my burns. Putting my hand behind me, I could feel blisters rising. 'How are your ribs?' I asked.

'Sore,' he replied with a grimace. 'But they're only bruised, not cracked. I've had worse.'

'Is Tamasin joining us for breakfast?'

'I don't know. I left her dressing.' He sighed. 'Sometimes I wonder if she thinks I get these knocks to spite her.'

'Are you still on poor terms?'

'Probably. When we got back I tried to tell her I just wanted to sleep, but she wanted to know everything. I was too tired to talk,' he added. 'Too worried, too, because this isn't over.'

Before leaving the remains of Goddard's house, Harsnet and I and Sir Thomas Seymour had held a conference. It was clear now that Goddard had been a victim, not the perpetrator, of the killings. I wondered whether he, too, after leaving Westminster Abbey had flirted with radical Protestantism, but drawn back and thus had qualified to became the seventh victim. The killer was still on the loose, and we had no idea who he was, or where he would strike again.

'Who is the bastard?' Barak asked. 'How did he get to know all these different people and their religious affinities?'

'At least we know how he got to us. By watching and spying as a pedlar. By the way, that gash on poor Goddard's head was on the wrong side of his face. The killer put it there to encourage our belief we were facing the killer in that room.'

'He slipped up there,' Barak said.

'It's the first time he has.'

'How did he get to Goddard? How did he find out where he lived?'

'Heaven knows. The magistrate said Goddard hadn't been seen for a few days. I'll wager the killer got into the house and tied him up, then sent that note to Dean Benson. And set up his greatest ever display.' I clenched my hands into fists. 'Who is he? Where is he now?'

'We're back to square one.'

'And without any idea where he will strike next. But one thing I am sure of. He will not end it now.'

'Do you think he will come after you?'

'I don't know. Why not just blow the house up with us all in it?' I sighed. I wished I could have consulted Guy. I had heard nothing since our quarrel. I would not have been surprised if Piers had returned, wormed his way back in with my friend.

I pushed my plate aside and stood up, wincing at the pain from my back. 'I should go to the Bedlam today. Shawms should have his report ready for the court and I want to look it over, and see Adam. And Dorothy later. I expect Bealknap is still there.'

'Are you all right to go out?' Barak asked.

'I can't sit around here. I will go to Chambers and try to do some work after I have seen Dorothy. I—'

The door opened and Tamasin came in. She wore a plain dress and her blonde hair was unbound, falling to her shoulders. She looked between us with a hostile glance. 'You have both been in the wars, I see,' she said.

'Where is your coif?' Barak asked. 'Your hair is unbound like an unmarried woman.'

She ignored him, and turned to me. 'Jack says you haven't caught him.'

'No,' I said. I added quietly. 'We have to go on searching.'

'He's killed eight people,' Barak said, impatiently. 'Nine, if Sir Thomas' man that was injured in the explosion dies. Seven of them in horrible slow ways.'

'We have to go on,' I said.

Tamasin sat down opposite her husband. She looked him in the eye, with an expression that was somehow both angry and sad. 'It is not what you're doing now that makes me angry with you. It is what you've been like since our baby died.'

Barak looked at me, then back at her. 'You shouldn't be talking of this in front of someone else. Not that you haven't already, I know.'

'I talk in front of someone else because you won't listen when we talk alone.' Tamasin's voice rose to a shout and she banged a hand on the table, making us both jump. 'Do you ever think what it's been like for me since the baby died? Do you think a day passes without it all coming back to me, the day he was born? You weren't there, you were out drinking. Yes, that was when that started—'

'Tamasin—' Barak raised his voice, but she raised hers higher.

'The pain, the awful pain, I never felt anything like it. You don't know what women bear. And then the midwife telling me the baby was all twisted round in my womb, she couldn't bring him out alive and I would die unless she broke his little skull. You didn't hear that crack, it wasn't loud but it still sounds over and over in my head. Then she lifted him out and I saw he was dead — anyone could see he was dead — but still I wanted so desperately to hear him cry, hear him cry . . .' Tears were rolling down her face now. Barak had gone pale, and sat very still.

'You never told me,' he said.

'I wanted to spare you!' she cried. 'Not that you spared me. Coming back drunk, always going on about your son, your poor son. My son too.'

'I didn't realize it had been like that,' Barak said. 'I just knew he was born dead.'

'What in God's name did you think it was like?'

He swallowed. 'I've heard — that when a baby is twisted in the womb like that it can stop a woman having others. We—'

'I don't know if that's why there have been no others!' Tamasin shouted. 'Is that all you care about? Is that all you can say to me?'

'No, no, Tammy, I didn't mean—' Barak raised a hand. He should have gone up to her, taken her in his arms and comforted her, but he was too shocked by her outburst. All he seemed able to do was raise that hand. Tamasin stood up, turned round and left the room.

'Go to her,' I said. 'Go to her now.' But he just sat there, helpless, shocked. 'Come on,' I said more quietly. 'After all that we have been through, surely you can pull yourself together to comfort your wife.'

He nodded then and stood up, wincing at a stab of pain from his cracked ribs. 'Poor Tamasin,' he whispered. He stepped to the door but as he did so the front door slammed. Joan was in the hall. 'Tamasin's just gone out,' she said. 'I told her we weren't supposed to go out alone, but she just ignored me.'

Barak went past her. I followed him outside. We could see no sign of Tamasin. We went to the gate and stood looking up and down the road. A moment later Barak's horse Sukey went past the gate at a canter, Tamasin sitting side saddle. She must have gone to the stables. Barak called after her, but she disappeared down Chancery Lane, riding fast towards Fleet Street.

TWO HOURS LATER, I was tying Genesis up outside the Bedlam. Barak had ridden out to try and find Tamasin, but she had disappeared into the crowds. We had no idea where she might have gone; she was an orphan, alone apart from Barak. She had had a few friends from her days as a very junior servant in Queen Catherine Howard's household, but Barak said she seldom saw them now. I realized how utterly, dreadfully lonely she must have been these last months.

Barak had gone off to see if he could still trace any of her friends. It seemed her outburst had shocked him into realizing fully what his behaviour had done, and he was full of contrition. I prayed that if he found her he would not retreat behind his defensive armour again. It was something he had to do alone, so I had ridden out to see Adam.

Hob Gebons let me in. He took me to Shawms' room, where the keeper produced a paper on which was written a report to the court saying that Adam was eating, was kept secure and received regular visits from his doctor. It struck me as being too well written for Shawms to have done it.

'Did Warden Metwys help you with this?' I asked.

Shawms gave me a surly look. 'I'm no hand at writing. I didn't come from some rich educated family.'

'I'll see how Adam is today. If it is still as you say I will approve the report.' I paused. 'Has Dr Malton been to see him?'

'Can't keep him out of the place.'

'Is he due today?'

'He comes and goes when he pleases.'

'And Ellen, how does she fare? I hope you have not been tormenting her again?'

'Oh, she's behaving herself now. 'Hob!' he called, and the fat warden reappeared. 'Visitor for Adam Kite. He's had more callers in a month than most patients get in five years.'

Gebons led me to Adam's cell. He was alone, chained as usual, and to my surprise he was standing looking out of his window, into the back yard. 'Adam,' I said quietly. He turned, then as soon as he saw me he slid down the wall, bent over and began to pray. I went and joined him, kneeling with some difficulty; it hurt my burned back.

'Come on, Adam,' I said. 'It is me. I will not harm you. You were not praying just now.' A thought struck me. 'Do you do this so you do not have to talk to people?'

He hesitated for a moment, then gave me a sideways look. 'Sometimes. People frighten me. They seek to hunt out my sins.' He hesitated. 'You did not tell my parents what — what I did with that Jezebel?'

'You mean the girl Abigail? No. I will say nothing, nor will Guy. We have a legal duty to keep your confidence. But your parents love you, Adam, I have seen that they love you.'

He shook his head. 'Always they used to criticize me, tell me to be quiet, respectful in my behaviour. They told me of the perils of sin. They know I am a sinner.'

'Are they not just repeating what Reverend Meaphon tells them?' I asked.

Adam sighed deeply. 'He is a man of God. All he wants is to bring people to salvation—'

'Your parents want more. They want you to return their love. I know your father wants you to go into the business with him one day.'

'I do not know. They say a son going into his father's trade can undo his reputation.' He hesitated, then added, 'And I do not want to be a stonemason, I do not like the work. I never have. That is another sin.' He shook his head.

'My father was a farmer, but I had no interest in it. I wanted to be a lawyer. I do not think that was a sin. Does not God give us each our own calling?'

'He calls us to be saved.' Adam screwed his eyes shut. 'Father, look down on me, look down and save me, see my repentance—'

I rose slowly to my feet. I frowned. Something in what Adam said had rung a bell. And then I made the connection with what Timothy had said about visitors. I had spent so much time thinking about who the boy was who had visited Abigail that I had missed the rest of what the boy had said. I found I was trembling, for I realized that Adam had accidentally given me the answer. If I was right, I knew now who the killer was. It shocked me.

I jumped as the door opened, and Ellen came in with a tray. She coloured when she saw me there. 'I am just bringing Adam his food, sir,' she said. As a good servant should.'

'You have been much more than that to poor Adam, Ellen.' I took a deep breath. 'I would like to talk to you again, Ellen, but now I have to go — something urgent I must attend to. But I thank you again for Adam's care. I will see you soon.'

She gave me a puzzled look. With a quick bow, I walked rapidly away, past the door of the man who thought he was the King, and who called to me to walk sedately near the royal presence. First I had to go home and talk to Timothy. Then I had to see Dorothy, for if I was right it was she who might hold the last piece of the puzzle.

AN HOUR LATER I was knocking on her door. I had stopped first at my house. Timothy was frightened to be questioned about Yarington again, and although he could not give me the name I was looking for he gave me a description, which if it did not prove my suspicions at least did not disprove them. It was enough to send me hurrying round to Dorothy's, barely pausing to ascertain from Joan that Barak had not yet returned.

Margaret the maid answered the door. 'Is Mistress Elliard in?' I asked.

'She has gone downstairs to have a word with Master Elliard's clerk about some payments due to his estate. Some clients have not paid because they know Master Elliard is dead. They think they can get away with it.' Her voice with its Irish lilt rose indignantly. 'And they say lawyers are wicked!'

Impatient though I was, I smiled at Margaret. She had been a tower of strength to Dorothy these last weeks, had probably helped her, been closer to her, than anyone. 'You feel much for your mistress, do you not?' I said.

'She was always good to me, patient of my clumsy ways when I started. And Master Elliard. It used to warm my heart to see how loving they were to each other.'

'Yes, they were.' It struck me that a week ago Dorothy would not have gone down to check on Roger's fees with the clerk, she would have sent me. The thought made me sad, and I chided myself for selfishness. 'She's coming back to herself,' I said.

'Yes, sir. Slowly. But it would help if she didn't have that wretched cuckoo in the nest.' She lowered her voice, inclining her head to the room Bealknap had taken over. 'He is running the servants ragged with his demands, and now he has rediscovered his appetite he is eating Mistress Elliard out of house and home. He is a guest, but the cost—'

'Then I will make an end to it,' I said grimly. I crossed the landing. The cloth of my shirt chafed against my raw back. Before this weekend I would have taken it to Guy to treat; but now there was no one, for I hated anyone else seeing my bent back. I took a deep breath, and shoved open the door of the chamber where Bealknap lay.

He was asleep, lying on his back and looking tranquil as a baby, a shock-headed baby with a fuzz of yellow stubble on its cheeks. His face, I saw, had regained both colour and flesh. A tray with a plate, empty save for drops of gravy and some chicken bones, lay on the floor. I looked down on him, then kicked the bed violently.

Bealknap started awake and stared at me petulantly with his pale blue eyes. He clutched the coverlet with his bony hands. 'What do you mean, coming in here and kicking the bed?' he asked. 'I am a guest.'

'A guest who constantly troubles his hostess's servants, and runs up great bills for food.'

'Dr Malton said I must stay here another week,' he answered indignantly. 'I have been very ill, I am still recovering.'

'Rubbish. Guy would never say that without consulting Mistress Elliard. He has manners. He is a gentleman.' I kicked the bed again.

'Why are you so angry?' He thought for a moment, then frowned, his eyes sliding away. 'Was it because of that solicitor I told you about? I am sure he was only making enquiries for some client, about a case.' He struggled to sit up. 'You cannot report me for it. I told you about it while in fear of death, I was temporarily non compos mentis'

'I wonder if you have ever been anything else.' I looked at him. He was so caught up in himself he probably did not even see the effect he was having on this grieving household. I leaned over him, and said, 'Either you get yourself dressed and take yourself back to your own chambers this afternoon, or I will ask Mistress Elliard to come round to my house tomorrow, and while she is out I will send Barak here to turf you out in your nightshirt. Margaret will let him in and she will keep it quiet, do not doubt that.'

Bealknap gave a nasty smile. 'Oh yes, I see now. You would like to have Mistress Elliard to yourself. That is what this is all about.' He gave a wheezy laugh. 'She'd never be interested in an ugly old hunchback like you.'

'I'll tell Barak to roll you in some puddles when he kicks you out. And you make sure some money is sent over to Mistress Elliard from that great chest of gold you have.' At those words, he looked outraged. 'She is a poor widow now, you wretch. Two gold half-angels should cover it. I will ask her later if she has had it.'

'I am a guest, guests do not pay.' His voice thrilled with indignation now.

Outside, I heard the door open and close again. Dorothy had come back.

'Out, Bealknap,' I said. 'This afternoon. Or take the consequences.' I kicked the bed again, and left the room.

DOROTHY WAS in the parlour, not standing or sitting by the fireplace from which she had stirred so seldom since Roger died, but by the window looking out at the fountain. So she can do that now, I thought. I realized it was days since I had seen her, since that almost-kiss. I feared she might be out of sorts with me, but she only looked weary.

'Bealknap will be gone by this evening,' I said.

She looked relieved. 'Thank you. I do not wish to be uncharitable, but that man is unbearable.'

'I am sorry Guy suggested he stay here. I feel responsible—'

'No. It was me that let Master Bealknap in. Dr Malton came and saw him yesterday. Bealknap said he was told he should stay here another week—'

'Lies.' I shifted my position slightly, and a stab of pain went down my back. I winced.

'Matthew, what is the matter?' Dorothy stepped forward. 'Are you ill?’

'It is nothing. A slight burn. A house caught fire, up in Hertfordshire.' I took a deep breath. 'We thought we had the killer, thought it was all over at last, but he escaped.'

'Will this never end?' she said quietly. 'Oh, I am sorry, I see you are tired, and hurt too. I am so selfish, caught up in my own troubles. A foolish and inconstant woman. Can you forgive me?'

'There is nothing to forgive.'

Dorothy had moved back to her favoured position, standing before the fire, the wooden frieze behind her. I studied it as she poured liquid from a bottle into two glasses and passed one to me.

'Aqua vitae,' she said with a smile. 'I think you need it.'

I sipped the burning liquid gratefully.

'You are so kind to me,' she said. She smiled, sadly, her pretty cheeks flushing. 'When we last met — I am sorry — my mind is all at sixes and sevens, my humours disturbed.' She looked at me. 'I need time, Matthew, much time before I can see what the future will be without Roger.'

'I understand. I am in your hands, Dorothy. I ask nothing.'

'You are not angry with me?'

'No.' I smiled. 'I thought you were angry with me, over Bealknap.'

'Just irritated by him beyond measure. We women get cantankerous then.'

'You will never be that, if you live to eighty.'

Dorothy reddened again. The light from the window caught the frieze, showing up the different colour of the poor repair. 'It is a shame that discoloured patch draws the eye so,' she said, shifting the conversation to mundane matters. 'It used to annoy Roger terribly.'

'Yes.'

'The man who originally made it was such an expert. We contracted him again after that corner was damaged, but he was recently dead. His son came instead. He did a poor job.'

I took a deep breath, oddly reluctant to say what was in my mind.

'The carpenter and his son. Do you — do you remember their names?'

She gave me a sharp look. 'Why does that matter?'

'One of the killer's other victims also had a carpenter come to repair a damaged screen.'

Dorothy went pale. She clutched at her throat. 'What was their name? The father and son?'

'Cantrell,' she said. 'Their name was Cantrell.'