The Face of a Stranger

"I don't doubt it." He felt an unreasonable anger for the confusion of this woman, and all the silent multitude like her, grieving for their dead and being told that the truth was too harsh for them. Perhaps it was, perhaps many could not have borne it, but they had not been consulted, simply told; as their sons had been told to fight. For what? He had no idea. He had looked at many newspapers in the last few weeks, trying to learn, and he still had only the dimmest notion-something to do with the Turkish Empire and the balance of power.

"Joscelin used to speak to us so-so carefully," she went on softly, watching his face. "He told us a great deal about how he felt, and Edward must have felt the same. I had had no idea it was so very dreadful. One just doesn't know, sitting here in England-" She stared at him anxiously. "It wasn't very glorious, you know-not really. So many men dead, not because the enemy killed them, but from the cold and the disease. He told us about the hospital at Scutari. He was there, you know; with a wound in his leg. He suffered quite appallingly. He told us about seeing men freezing to death in the winter. I had not known the Crimea was cold like that. I suppose it was because it was east from here, and I always think of the East as being hot. He said it was hot in the summer, and dry. Then with winter there was endless rain and snow, and winds that all but cut the flesh. And the disease.'' Her face pinched. "I thanked God that if Edward had to die, at least it was quickly, of a bullet, or a sword, not cholera. Yes, Joscelin was a great comfort to me, even though I wept as I hadn't done before; not only for Edward, but for all the others, and for the women like me, who lost sons and husbands. Do you understand, Mr. Monk?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "Yes I do. I'm very sorry I have to distress you now by speaking of Major Grey's death. But we must find whoever killed him."

She shuddered.

"How could anyone be so vile? What evil gets into a man that he could beat another to death like that? A fight I deplore, but I can understand it; but to go on, to mutilate a man after he is dead! The newspapers say it was dreadful. Of course my husband does not know I read them-having known the poor man, I felt I had to. Do you understand it, Mr. Monk?"

"No, I don't. In all the crimes I have investigated, I have not seen one like this." He did not know if it was true, but he felt it. "He must have been hated with a passion hard to conceive."

"I ca

It was a thought that had not occurred to Monk before- had Joscelin Grey had any idea that his killer hated him? Had he known, but merely thought him impotent to act?

"He ca

"Poor man." She hunched her shoulders involuntarily, as if chilled. "It is very frightening to think that someone with that madness in their hearts could walk around, looking like you or me. I wonder if anyone dislikes me intensely and I have no idea of it. I had never entertained such a thought before, but now I ca

"Yes ma'am, I am afraid so; most often of all by relatives."

"How appalling." Her voice was very soft, her eyes staring at some spot beyond him. "And how very tragic."

"Yes it is." He did not want to seem crass, nor indifferent to her horror, but he had to pursue the business of it. "Did Major Grey ever say anything about threats, or anyone who might be afraid of him-"

She lifted her eyes to look at him; her brow was puckered and another strand of hair escaped the inadequate pins. "Afraid of him? But it was he who was killed!"

"People are like other animals," he replied. "They most often kill when they are afraid themselves."

"I suppose so. I had not thought of that." She shook her head a little, still puzzled. "But Joscelin was the most harmless of people! I never heard him speak as if he bore real ill will towards anyone. Of course he had a sharp wit, but one does not kill over a joke, even if it is a trifle barbed, and possibly even not in the kindest of taste."

"Even so," he pressed, "against whom were these remarks directed?"

She hesitated, not only in an effort to remember, but it seemed the memory was disturbing her.

He waited.

"Mostly against his own family," she said slowly. "At least that was how it sounded to me-and I think to others. His comments on Menard were not always kind, although my husband knows more of that than I-I always liked Menard-but then that was no doubt because he and Edward were so close. Edward loved him dearly. They shared so much-" She blinked and screwed up her mild face even more. "But then Joscelin often spoke harshly of himself also-it is hard to understand."

"Of himself?" Monk was surprised. "I've been to his family, naturally, and I can understand a certain resentment. But in what way of himself?"

"Oh, because he had no property, being a third son; and after his being wounded he limped, you know. So of course there was no career for him in the army. He appeared to feel he was of little-little standing-that no one accounted him much. Which was quite untrue, of course. He was a hero-and much liked by all ma

"I see." Monk was thinking of Rosamond Shelburne, obliged by her mother to marry the son with the title and the prospects. Had Joscelin loved her, or was it more an insult than a wound, a reminder that he was third best? Had he cared, it could only have hurt him that she had not the courage to follow her heart and marry as she wished. Or was the status more important to her, and she had used Joscelin to reach Lovel? That would perhaps have hurt differently, with a bitterness that would remain.

Perhaps they would never know the answer to that.

He changed the subject. "Did he at any time mention what his business interests were? He must have had some income beyond the allowance from his family."

"Oh yes," she agreed. "He did discuss it with my husband, and he mentioned it to me, although not in any great detail."

"And what was it, Mrs. Dawlish?"

"I believe it was some investment, quite a sizable one, in a company to trade with Egypt." The memory of it was bright in her face for a moment, the enthusiasm and expectation of that time coming back.

"Was Mr. Dawlish involved in this investment?"

"He was considering it; he spoke highly of its possibilities."

"I see. May I call again later when Mr. Dawlish is at home, and learn more details of this company from him?"

"Oh dear." The lightness vanished. "I am afraid I have expressed myself badly. The company is not yet formed. I gathered it was merely a prospect that Joscelin intended to pursue."

Monk considered for a moment. If Grey were only forming a company, and perhaps persuading Dawlish to invest, then what had been his source of income up to that time?

"Thank you." He stood up slowly. "I understand. All the same, I should like to speak to Mr. Dawlish. He may well know something about Mr. Grey's finances. If he were contemplating entering business with him, it would be natural he should inquire."

"Yes, yes of course." She poked ineffectually at her hair. "Perhaps about six o'clock."