The Dark Palace

He knew better than she did what men were capable of. Any man; all men. The criminals he hunted down all lodged somewhere. The fact that she was the landlady’s daughter was no protection.

He now realized that it was his duty as a policeman to settle the question of her whereabouts once and for all.

‘Mr Qui

Qui

No, he could not bring himself to look into those eyes. Not now. Not after this.

‘I was just … I … I couldn’t help noticing that Miss Ibbott had left her door open. I thought it wise to close it for her.’

‘I see.’ But her voice was reproachful, as well as hurt. And no, he still wouldn’t look at her. He refused to face the same reproach, the same hurt, in her eyes.

‘One ca

‘Of course.’

And then Qui

‘What about them?’ There was genuine alarm in her voice now, panic almost.

Qui

‘As what?’

He could not say an invitation; that would seem to put Miss Ibbott at fault. ‘A provocation,’ he settled for.

Miss Dillard let out a little shriek. It was an unfortunate word to choose.

‘You must understand,’ protested Qui

At that moment, the controversial door opened and Miss Ibbott herself peered out. From what he saw of her shoulders, Qui

‘What do you want? What’s going on? Did you shut my door?’

‘Ah, good morning to you, Miss Ibbott. Yes, indeed, as I was explaining to Miss Dillard, I did indeed shut your door. A mere precaution, you understand. For your own safety. One can never be too careful. Did you, in fact, realize that it was open, I wonder?’

‘Betsy must have left it like that when she fetched me my hot water.’

‘Ah, there you are! Mystery solved! Betsy left it open. Careless girl. But good-natured. A careless but good-natured girl, I think we can all agree on that. Or perhaps not, as regards carelessness, at least. Not careless, no. Too harsh. Just overworked perhaps? No, that won’t do, implying as it does criticism of your good mother, the irreproachable Mrs Ibbott. I will not hear the word overworked used in this house. Worked to just the right, proper and above all proportionate extent of her capabilities and … and duties. As your maid. As maid to us all. An onerous but worthy calling, no doubt. So, what are we to make of the door being left ajar? A simple mistake, it turns out, which I, in my foolish, fond – one might even say i

Miss Ibbott offered no comment on Qui

He could not look at Miss Dillard. He wondered if the consolation of her pewter-grey eyes was denied him forever now, their startling beauty an unreliable memory he struggled to conjure.

FOUR

The lights in the carriage flickered in time with the clatter and sway of the Tube train, the darkness reasserting its presence.

Qui

Under normal circumstances, Qui

Qui

The fellow must have followed him on to the platform and into the train carriage. That meant that he must have been waiting outside the lodging house for Qui

Yes, he had registered something out of the corner of his eye, or at least in hindsight he believed he had. A blur of movement configured by intent. Resolving itself into a human form shadowing him. Footsteps moving in time with his own.

He had thought nothing of it. Or very little. He had registered the sensation and dismissed it. No, not quite dismissed it. He was a policeman, after all. Over the years he had put away more than his fair share of villains, and dispatched another quota to face a higher justice. The former would have grudges of their own against him, which they would nurture and fatten as they served out their sentences (if they had not paid the ultimate price); many of the latter would have left behind associates who might be presumed to have sworn oaths of vengeance on their behalf.

It was a plain fact that there were people in the world who were out for Qui

He accepted this, but the thing was not to become obsessed by it. No doubt the day would come when he would find himself face to face with a man who would calmly aim a revolver between his eyes and fire. In the meantime, he couldn’t go around jumping at shadows.

And so, he had registered the sensation of being followed and pushed it to the back of his mind. It was most likely a coincidence. Someone else on their way to Brompton Road Tube Station, whose footsteps would naturally follow Qui

It occurred to him that this sensation of being followed was simply a fact of modern life. This is how it feels to live in a crowded metropolis at the begi

On the platform, he had felt sufficiently invisible to put the sensation from his mind. The brown and green tiles seemed to suck the life out of the feeble electric lights. It was a space that fell away at its soft dark edges. He had instinctively sought out a place on the periphery, slipping away into the welcoming gloom.

A tide of bobbing bowler hats had closed behind him. He had found a spot at the end of the platform, peering expectantly into the black abyss of the tu