The Silent Cry

Wharmby pulled his jacket down and straightened his back, then opened the withdrawing room door.

"Mr. Evan is here to see you, ma'am, and another gentleman with him.”

He said no more but backed out again, gave Evan one more look, then went to the stairs, leaving them to go in alone.

Sylvestra was standing on the carpet in front of the fire. Naturally she was still dressed in black, with dark hair piled in a great coil on the back of her head and falling to her neck. In the firelight she looked beautiful with her high cheekbones and slender throat.

"Yes, Mr. Evan. What is it?" she asked with a slight surprise arching her brows. She looked beyond him to Monk.

Evan introduced them briefly, without explanation.

"Good evening, Mr. Monk…" she did no more than acknowledge him.

"Ma'am," he inclined his head. To have wished her 'good evening' in return would have been a mockery. He closed the door and came further into the room.

Evan wished there were any way whatever to escape this moment. He was acutely conscious of Monk standing at his shoulder, his mind filled with the cruelty whose results he had seen, the rage smouldering inside him.

"Yes, Mrs. Duff. We have learned a great deal of what happened the night your husband was killed. First I would like to ask you one or two last questions." He ignored the looked of astonishment on her face, and Monk shifting from one foot to the other behind him. "Did Mr. Duff express to you, or in any way show anxiety as to what Mr.

Rhys was doing during the evenings he was away from home, or the company he was keeping?”

"Yes… you know he did. I told you so myself.”

"Did he indicate, either in words or by his behaviour, that he had learned anything recently which troubled him additionally.”

"No! At least, he said nothing to me. Why?" Her tone was getting sharper. "Will you please be plain with me, Mr. Evan? Have you discovered what my husband was doing in St. Giles, or not? I told you when you first came here that I believed he had followed Rhys to try to reason with him about the type of young woman he was associating with.

Are you telling me that is true?" She lifted her chin a little, almost as if challenging him. "That hardly warrants your coming here, with Mr. Monk, at this hour.”

"We also believe we know how he met his death, Mrs. Duff, and we must act accordingly," Evan replied. He had not intended to be cruel, but he realised that by stretching out what he had to say, he was doing so.

A swift blow was better in the end. "We have witnesses who saw Rhys several times in St. Giles, sometimes with others, sometimes alone.

One young woman places him there that evening…”

"Obviously he was there that evening, Mr. Evan," Sylvestra cut across him. "What you are telling me we already know. It is obvious!”

Monk could bear it no longer. He stepped forward into the circle of candlelight from the shadows, his face grim.

"I have been investigating a series of violent rapes, Mrs. Duff. They were committed by three men together. They raped women, sometimes as young as twelve or thirteen years old, then beat them, breaking their bones, kicking them… sometimes into insensibility Her face registered her horror. She stared at him as if he had risen out of the ground, carrying the stench of terror and pain with him.

"The last of the rapes was committed in St. Giles the night your husband was murdered in the same ma

She was ashen pale. "What… are… you… saying…?" she whispered.

"We have come to arrest Rhys Duff for the murder of his father, Leighton Duff," Monk answered her. "There is no choice.”

"You ca

"Oh, thank God!" Sylvestra swayed for a moment, but regained her composure. "This… this is… absurd! Rhys would… not…”

She looked from Evan to Hester. "Could… he?”

"I don't know," Hester said gravely, coming right into the room. "But whatever the truth of it is, he ca

"I am aware of his state of health," Evan responded. "If Dr. Wade says he ca

Sylvestra was speechless.

"That will not happen," Hester spoke for her. "He will remain here, in Dr. Wade's care… and mine.”

Sylvestra nodded her assent.

"I will go up to inform him of his situation," Evan said, turning towards the door.

Hester stood in front of him. For a moment he was afraid she was going to try to bar his way physically, but after an instant's hesitation she went to the door ahead of him.

"I shall come with you. He may need some… help. I…" She met his eyes with both challenge and pleading. "I intend to be there, Sergeant Evan. What you say will cause him great distress, and he is still very weak.”

"Of course," he agreed. "I am not trying to cause him harm.”

She turned and led the way across the hall. It seemed Monk intended to remain with Sylvestra. Perhaps he thought he could elicit some information from her where Evan had failed. He might be right.

Hester went up the stairs and across the landing, opening the door to Rhys's room, then as soon as she was inside, standing away so Evan could face the bed.

Rhys was lying on his back, his broken hands on the covers. He was simply staring at the ceiling. He was propped up on sufficient pillows to be able to meet Evan's eyes without discomfort. He looked surprised to see him, but the blue bruising was gone and the swelling had entirely disappeared. He was a handsome young man, in an unconventional way, nose a little too long, mouth too sensitive, dark eyes dominating his white face.

Evan was reminded sickeningly of when he had found him. He felt responsible. He had been part of willing him to live, bringing him back from the brink of darkness and into this white light of pain. He should have been able to protect him somehow. It was his duty to find a better answer than this.

"Mr. Duff," he began with a dry mouth. He swallowed and felt worse.

"We have traced your movements on the night your father was killed, and on at least three other nights before that. You regularly went to St.

Giles, and there used the services of a prostitute, in fact several prostitutes…”

Rhys stared at him. A faint flush coloured his cheeks. It embarrassed him that that sort of thing should be mentioned in front of Hester, it was plain in his eyes, the way he glanced at her and away again.

"On the night in question, a woman was raped and beaten…" Evan stopped. Rhys had gone ashen, almost grey-faced, and his eyes were filled with such horror Evan was afraid he was suffering some kind of seizure.

Hester moved towards him, then stopped.

The room seemed to roar with the silence. The lights flickered. A coal fell in the fire.

"Rhys Duff… I am arresting you for the murder of Leighton Duff, on the night of January seventh, 1860, in Water Lane, St. Giles." It would be a cruel brutality to warn him that anything he said might be used in evidence at his trial. He could say nothing, no defence, no explanation, no denial.