Hepburn was sitting alone at the card-table. He looked startled for an instant, but as soon as he saw who it was, he gave Marc a grimacing little smile and rose halfway in his chair. “Miss Badger usually does that,” he said with a glance at the open door.
“Miss Badger had to go to the Court House on an urgent family matter,” Marc said, annoyed that he suddenly found himself short of breath. “I took the liberty of showing myself in.”
Hepburn raised his brow slightly and said amiably enough, “So I see.” Evidently he had no inkling of what was to come, which suited Marc just fine. “Well, now that you’re fully in, please take a seat. Miss Badger said you had called earlier.”
“I prefer to stand for what I have come to say.”
“As you wish. As one of His Lordship’s amanuenses, I presume you’re here on some errand relating to the commissioner’s agenda here in Toronto?”
Marc bristled at the barb but decided to maintain his post on the moral high ground. “I am here representing both His Lordship and the Toronto constabulary.”
The banker’s brow again lifted a single notch. “Indeed. Then you have my undivided attention, for I hold both offices in high regard.”
“Do you?”
“Is that a question, sir, or an accusation?”
Marc ignored the riposte. “I have come here to ask you some questions in regard to the events of Monday evening and early Tuesday morning, and I demand-in the name of His Lordship, the governor of the Canadas-that you give me straightforward and truthful answers.” With a sinking feeling, Marc realized that he should have brought Cobb with him, for even if he compelled incriminating testimony from Hepburn, he would have no witness to it, and it could all be retracted and contradicted after the fact.
“I have never been known to do otherwise, young man, though I would appreciate your putting your queries with a more courteous tongue.”
“I’m not seeking a mortgage!” Marc snapped.
“You may thank your lucky stars for that.” Hepburn calmly opened a humidor beside him. “Would you care for a cigar?”
“No, thank you.” Marc began to feel a tad ridiculous standing in front of the card-strewn whist table while the accused sat peacefully in his favourite armchair. “Now, about the events of Monday evening.”
“I assume you are referring to the unfortunate death of a whore somewhere in Irishtown.”
“How do you know about that?”
“My wife told me. It’s the talk of the town, apparently. You see, we don’t often have murders of any kind here in Toronto-unlike London.” He gave Marc the practised, pecuniary smile of a self-satisfied banker. “But I fail to see how I may have anything to contribute to your investigation, if that is what you are about.”
“I intend, sir, to show you exactly how you did contribute to the death of Sarah McConkey.”
“Then please, proceed. You have me intrigued.” Hepburn reached for his tinderbox. “Do you mind if I smoke while you talk?”
“Let me start with the fact that, according to Mrs. Hepburn, you and she were driven, alone, out to Spadina.”
“That is true and is our usual custom on such occasions.”
“But I put it to you that her claim that you two rode home together in the same manner is not true!”
“Is that so? Are you now about to tell me that it was the anonymous ‘jewel thief’ you described to Mrs. Hepburn with such fanciful mendacity who joined us on the way back?”
Marc winced but was able to play his trump card: “Not at all. It was Handford Ellice you brought here to the city, Lady Durham’s nephew.”
The brow lifted again. “You are referring to the shy young man whom we invited to join us at whist in Baldwin’s card room?”
“Don’t play the naif with me, sir. You are perfectly aware whose ego you flattered and whom you plied with drink for two hours before midnight.”
“To be truthful, and I presume that’s what you wish of me, the lad was too shy to introduce himself, but yes, one of the attendants indicated who he was sometime after he’d sat down at our table.”
“Are you denying that you and your accomplices took young Ellice off to the drinks table at regular intervals, until he was thoroughly drunk?”
“This lad, though diffident, was old enough to insist on his right to drink whiskey. We accompanied him in order to limit his consumption, not increase it.”
“The result was the same, either way. By midnight he was inebriated and ostensibly slipped away to his chamber to sleep it off.”
“Ostensibly?” Hepburn lit a tinder stick and applied it to the end of his cigar.
“Someone in your group suggested to Ellice that a ride to town and its potential pleasures awaited him at the stables, should he so wish to take advantage of it.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“We have testimony from several servants and grooms that place Ellice in a fancy barouche some minutes past midnight, when many of the older guests were departing.”
“There were many such vehicles there when Mrs. Hepburn and I left about that time.” The cigar end reddened and Hepburn took a soothing puff.
“But I am certain that it was your carriage that contained Ellice.”
“Which implies that both my wife and I are lying.”
“Yes.”
Hepburn appeared not to take offence at this unseemly imputation, but his eyes did narrow perceptibly. “And what are we supposed to have done with the lad? Dumped him onto Front Street in the middle of the night in a strange city?”
“Nothing of the kind. You dropped Mrs. Hepburn off here, then you and Ellice walked up to Lot Street, one block north, and entered Irishtown.”
Hepburn guffawed, choking on his cigar. “You’re jesting! Go into that den of thieves and cutthroats after midnight on my own?”
“You were well known in there, sir, and I have learned in the past two days that your status as one of Madame Renée’s regulars would have given you immunity and right of passage. I suspect there may have been a system of passwords in addition to coded knocks on a scarlet door.”
“You have a vivid imagination, I’ll say that for you.”
“You knocked on that door, pushed Ellice in, and left before you were recognized-knowing that the lad’s ready money and harmless demeanour would get him serviced by one or another of the girls.”
“I trust that you’re not suggesting that the purchase of the favours of a female is a crime? If so, then few gentlemen in this town or any other would escape hanging.”
Hepburn’s feigned amusement was almost credible.
“The crime, if you like, was to have Lord Durham’s nephew found in a sleazy brothel, in the certain knowledge that any sort of scandal among the earl’s entourage would surely scupper his mission and lead to his immediate recall.”
“But who would know of this indiscretion besides the man who directed him there?” Hepburn seemed to be toying with his accuser, as if Marc were an impecunious client begging for a loan he knew would be refused.
“What would Ellice do when he woke up in Irishtown?” Marc replied. “He wouldn’t even know what city he was in! By morning, Lady Durham would be in a panic and forced to raise the hue and cry for her missing nephew-who might have been kidnapped or murdered, for all she knew. In these times any such calamity is possible. The chances of keeping the sordid business quiet were slim indeed.”
“So the perpetrator of this so-called crime must have had a political motive?”
“Exactly. For instance, a Tory banker and charter member of the Family Compact, whose fortunes are threatened by the continuing instability and the failure of the royal authority to calm the uppity natives.”
“And if young Ellice had managed to crawl back to the city, hire himself a gig, and drive to Spadina undetected, then what?”