‘Go away,’ said Meg.
‘Nobody is blaming you for what happened. It was your husband who was the informer. People’s anger died with him, Mrs Kearney. We mean you no harm.’
‘Leave us alone. Your husband helped to kill mine.’
‘Mr Kearney took his own life.’
‘He was driven to it by people like that vile man of yours.’
‘I can’t deny that,’ said Mary, sadly. ‘You need time to mourn and I’ll trouble you no longer. But you’re free to leave the tenement now. Nobody will harm you.’
‘They’ve already done that,’ said the other, bitterly.
‘I’m sorry that it came to that.’
‘You might be, Mrs Fallon, but that murderous husband of yours isn’t sorry.’
‘Dermot is the one who wants you and the children to be treated more kindly from now on.’ There was an ironic laugh from the other side of the door. ‘Yes, it may be no comfort now but in time you may become more grateful.’
The door was flung open and Mary found herself facing a woman who was brimming with anger and haggard with grief. Fallon had told his wife to give her some money but it was the wrong gesture at what was patently the wrong time. All that Mary could do was to mouth an apology and walk away. She felt as if the woman’s blazing eyes were burning holes in her back.
When he left the bank after his awkward interview with the bank manager, the first place that Beyton went to was Peter Skillen’s house. A manservant took him into the drawing room. Peter soon joined him and noticed his visitor’s hunted look. He offered him refreshment but it was declined.
‘What happened, Mr Beyton?’
‘I’ve just had the most embarrassing conversation in my entire life,’ said the other, shifting nervously in his seat. ‘Though I’d concocted a story for my bank manager, it was clearly not plausible enough. He came within an inch of mocking me, Mr Skillen. At a time like this, I need sympathetic understanding.’
‘Your bank manager can’t offer you sympathy, if he doesn’t really understand why you need it, sir. But have no qualms about the fictitious excuse you employed. Bank managers are accustomed to hearing unbelievable claims. They judge a client on his character and not on the tale he tells. You, I suspect, are held in high regard.’
‘I was until this disaster struck me,’ moaned Beyton.
‘Did you secure the money?’
‘Yes, I did, but only after a long battle. Mr Holland was very suspicious of my motives. He’ll never look at me in quite the same way again.’
‘He might do so,’ said Peter, ‘if you put the money back into the account.’
Beyton sighed. ‘There’s little chance of that happening.’
‘There’s every chance.’
‘They got away with the entire amount the first time.’
‘That was because of a miscalculation,’ admitted Peter, ‘but we learnt two important things. First, we discovered that we are dealing solely with a man and woman and, second, that the latter’s name is Mrs Jane Holdstock. I’m told that when she left the shooting gallery one day, she was met by a gentleman who may well be the accomplice who assisted her in Hyde Park.’
‘It’s a pity that nobody assisted me.’
Peter was brusque. ‘If you’d rather find someone else to hold your hand in this enterprise,’ he declared, ‘then you are more than welcome to do so. It will, of course, oblige you to reveal details of your private life to a stranger who may not guard them as closely as I do. For my own part, Mr Beyton, I will continue my search for Mrs Horner independently of you and – one way or another – I will find her.’
Beyton was taken aback by the outburst and alarmed at the thought of losing Peter’s guidance. He apologised for his sarcastic remark, explaining that it arose from desperation. Beyton promised to do exactly what Peter advised.
‘When can you collect the money?’
‘Not until tomorrow morning,’ said Beyton with disappointment. ‘I was hoping that I could withdraw the amount today.’
‘That would have been unwise, sir,’ warned Peter, ‘so you should be thankful to your bank manager for looking after the money overnight. It’s perfectly safe in the bank. Would you really like to have as large as a sum as that under your own roof?’
Beyton pondered. ‘I suppose not,’ he said. ‘Now that I think about it, I’d feel very uneasy. Knowing what the money was for, I’d hate it to be held in such close proximity to my wife. It would be a source of great discomfort to me. I’ll pick it up tomorrow instead.’