Part 31 (1/2)

She gave him a withering glare. ”Again, charging per word, I presume?”

”What about less recent?” Matthew asked. ”Say, a year or so?”

”Adding to the questions now, are we?” was Pollard's rebuke.

”Within a year or so, the answer is the same,” said the widow. ”None.”

Matthew nodded and rubbed his scratchy chin.

Mrs. Deverick put the letter in her lap and smoothed it out. ”The third question, and most odious, concerns my displeasure over your mention of those two men in connection with my late husband. I shall state emphatically and under the eye of the Lord that Pennford had no dealings with either Dr. G.o.dwin or Eben Ausley. They weren't worth the sc.r.a.pings off Pennford's boots.” She turned to Pollard as he was about to protest this detail and put a finger in his face. ”Shut.”

Matthew let Pollard settle back like a strawman in collapse before he ventured further. ”It's my understanding that Dr. G.o.dwin had a sterling reputation, madam. Even though he was physician to Polly Blossom's ladies. After all, some physician had to take that job.”

”Ah, but Julius G.o.dwin enjoyed it too much. He practically lived there the last few years. Became a sobbing drunk and nearly a lunatic, spending all his time with what you charitably and foolishly call ladies. Those are demons in disguise, and before I draw my last breath I pray to see Polly Blossom thrown onto a s.h.i.+p like a pile of rags and deported from these colonies.”

”We are keeping our emotions about us,” Pollard advised.

She ignored him. ”I cannot stand a weak man, sir,” she said to Matthew, her face nearly contorted with disgust. ”Weak men go through those doors. You ask me why I detested Julius G.o.dwin, well there it is. And plenty of eligible-and fas.h.i.+onable-widows available to him, but he preferred to go to the wh.o.r.es. Pennford told me G.o.dwin was sick, and that's why he drank so much and spent his...his energies with those filthy creatures.”

”Sick?” Matthew was no longer thinking about the bath; his mind was questing. ”You mean mentally ill?”

”I mean he could have been married long ago, but he threw himself away. And I recall when Dr. G.o.dwin first came here, he was a fine upstanding physician. A clean man. Had come from London, to start anew. He was all right, until his weakness killed him.”

”I think it was the Masker who killed him,” Matthew said.

”The Masker finished the job G.o.dwin's weakness began,” came the reply. ”I don't know, maybe the Masker is some maniac who was incensed over where G.o.dwin put his dirty instruments.”

Matthew let that one go. Pollard was just looking blankly out at the s.h.i.+ps as the carriage progressed toward the Great Dock. Matthew wondered if Pollard might be thinking what Mrs. Deverick would say if she knew that one of her own lawyers was as much a wh.o.r.e-monger as G.o.dwin had been. It seemed that the upper cla.s.s had all the money, but the lower cla.s.s-like the widow Sherwyn-had all the knowledge. But of course, according to Grigsby, there were plenty of Polly Blossom's customers living on Golden Hill.

Matthew leaned forward. ”You said Dr. G.o.dwin came from London to start anew. When was that?”

”I suppose it was...at least fifteen years ago. Probably nearer twenty.”

”And start anew from what?”

”I don't know for certain. It was a phrase Pennford used. But it was well-known that G.o.dwin's wife died of fever, when they were both very young. He told it around town. Possibly that had something to do with the drunken wreckage he became, but I had no sympathy for him.”

A silence stretched, as Matthew pondered this last statement.

Pollard came out of his trance. ”Where do you want us to drop you, Corbett?”

”Eben Ausley,” Matthew said to the woman. ”What about him?”

Mrs. Deverick gave an unladylike snort of derision. ”You being an orphan, as Mr. Pollard informs me, I'm surprised you don't know what was whispered about him. That he was a...well, I hardly can mention the word. That he took liberties with his charges. Hadn't you heard? Pennford despised him, too, and said that if any orphan ever came forward to testify about such indignities he personally would have that monstrous heathen hanged in front of City Hall.”

”Really,” Matthew said, as the world seemed to spin around in one dizzying revolution.

”Absolutely. It could never be proven, though. Evidently the rumor went that Ausley was reeking drunk at a tavern and made some mention of...that practice to one of the wh.o.r.es. She told someone else, and...but, as I said, it was never proven. Still, that man made my flesh crawl. I didn't like him, just on principle.”

”But who can trust a wh.o.r.e?” asked Pollard, with a shrug.

”You were Ausley's lawyer. How is it you could represent Pennford Deverick and also Ausley?”

”Where's the problem? My firm inherited both accounts from Charles Land. I handled Ausley's legal and financial affairs, not his morals. And if you're wis.h.i.+ng to stir up muddy water between Mrs. Deverick and me, you'll be disappointed to know that she understands-as did her husband-that a lawyer is a tool for a purpose. It was not my place to pa.s.s judgment on anyone.”

”Though now that Pennford is gone, there might have been a change of legal firms if Ausley had remained alive,” Mrs. Deverick said. ”Tool or not.”

”Another question for you.” Matthew kept his gaze on Pollard. ”Since you handled Ausley's financial affairs, how is it he could afford to lose so much money at the gaming tables?”

Pollard's reddish-brown eyebrows lifted. ”How is it you know how much money he lost? If indeed he lost any?”

”I saw him lose money on many occasions.”

”Did you? What were you doing? Following him?”

”I just...saw him, that's all. In the taverns.”

”I'd presume,” said Pollard, ”that on some nights he lost and on some nights he won. If you do the math, you might find he came out even or a little ahead.”

”He was repulsive.” Mrs. Deverick returned the letter to the envelope. ”And G.o.dwin was sickening. So there are your answers, Mr. Corbett.” She held the envelope out to him. ”Helpful in some way, I hope.”

Not really, he wanted to say, but then again he had to put his mind to what the woman had told him and sift through the information as if it were fine sand. He took the envelope and settled against his seatback, the horses' rhythm causing the carriage to rock back and forth.

”My opinion, if I'm allowed to give one,” said Pollard, who paused to make sure his nose wasn't clipped before he went on, ”is that this Masker person has left town. I think the decree has had its effect, as much as we regret having to lose income to suit Lord Cornbury's grievances against the taverns. I mean, if I were the Masker, why should I wish to dawdle at the scene of the crimes?”

”Possibly because your work might not be done?” Matthew asked, looking sharply at him.

”My work? And what work might that be, sir?”

”I don't know.”

”Did you hear that, madam?” Pollard's voice was almost gleeful. ”Your investigator doesn't know. Corbett, I'll give you some free advice, and pay heed to it. Return to your role as clerk and give up this amusing attempt to play at high constable. You'll be ever so much the better for-”

”One moment,” Matthew interrupted. ”Repeat that, please.”

”Repeat what?”

”You said, 'I'll give you some free advice, and-'”

”I have no idea what you're going on about now.”

”'Pay heed to it,' is what you said,” Mrs. Deverick spoke up. She looked quizzically at Matthew.

”Yes. Would you repeat that phrase, Mr. Pollard?”

Pollard grinned and frowned and grinned. ”Has your brain gotten too much sun?”

Matthew watched him carefully. I have marked a page, the Masker's m.u.f.fled voice had said last night. Pay heed to it. ”Just speak it. Won't you?”