The Dark Assassin by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

gone with all the rest of his memory-but he
had learned, piece by piece, much about the cost and the dishonor of some of
his own acts, and those of people he had loved who had been ruined.
    "No, sir,
I'm afraid not," Cardman agreed. "He had many friends, but I think
perhaps he had enemies as well. He was much worried before his death that the
rebuilding of the sewers to Mr. Bazalgette's plans was going ahead rather too
hastily, and the use of the big machines was going to cause a bad accident. He
became most concerned about it and spent all this time looking into matters,
trying to prove he was right."
    "And did he
prove it?" Monk asked.
    "Not so far
as I know, sir. It caused some unpleasantness with Mr. Alan Argyll, and Mr.
Toby as well, but Mr. Havilland wouldn't stop. He felt he was right."
    "That must
have been very difficult for him, with both his daughters concerned with the
Argyll brothers," Monk observed.
    "Indeed,
sir. There was some unpleasantness. I'm afraid feelings ran rather high. Miss
Mary sided with her father, and that was when matters between her and Mr. Toby
became strained."
    "And she
broke off her arrangement?"
    "No, sir,
not then." Cardman was obviously wretched speaking about it, and yet Monk
could feel the weight of it inside like a dam needing release before the
pressure of it burst the walls.
    "Mr.
Havilland was very concerned," Monk prompted. "You must have seen him
frequently, even every day. Did he seem to you on the edge of losing his grip
on self-control?"
    "No, sir,
not in the slightest!" Cardman said vehemently, his lean face alive with
sudden, undisguised emotion. "He was not in a mood anything like despair!
He was elated, if anything. He believed he was on the brink of finding proof of
what he feared. There had been no accident, you see. Rather, he felt one might
occur-something appalling, costing scores of lives-and he wanted above all
things to prevent it." Admiration shone in his eyes, admiration that was
deeper than mere loyalty.
    "Have you
always been in service, Cardman?" Monk said impulsively.
    "I beg your
pardon?" Cardman was taken by surprise.
    Monk repeated
the question.
    "No, sir. I
served for six years in the army. I don't see what that has to do with Mr.
Havilland's death."
    "Only your
judgment of men under pressure."
    Cardman was
embarrassed and did not know how to accept what he realized was a compliment.
He colored faintly and looked away.
    "Were you
surprised that Mr. Havilland took his life?" Monk asked.
    "Yes, sir.
Especially . . ." Cardman took a moment to master himself. He sat
perfectly still, his knuckles white. "Especially in his own house, where
Miss Mary was bound to know about it. A man can make such things look like an
accident." He breathed in and out slowly. "It broke her heart. She
was never the same afterwards." There was anger in his face now. A man he
admired had inexplicably let him down; more than that, he had let them all
down, most of all the daughter who had trusted him.
    "But you
did believe it nonetheless?" Monk asked. He felt like a surgeon cutting
open a man still conscious and feeling every movement of the knife. He thought
of Hester's battlefield surgery. She had steeled herself to do it, knowing the
alternative was to let the men die.
    "I had no
choice," Cardman said quietly. "The stable boy found him out there in
the mews in the morning, a bullet through his brain and the gun by his hand.
The police proved he'd bought it himself, from a pawn shop just a few days
before." There was obviously a great deal more he could have said-the
feelings were naked in his eyes-but a lifetime's discretion governed him.
    "Did he
leave a note as to why he had done such a thing?" Monk asked.
    "No,
sir."
    "And he
said nothing to you or any of the other servants?"
    "No, sir,
simply that he wanted to wait up that night, and we should not concern
ourselves, but retire as usual."
    "And you
detected nothing out