“Two of my girls murdered in cold blood,”Madame sighed. “I’ve been here four years and never had one of mygirls assaulted, let alone murdered. What is going on, Mr.Cobb?”
“I intend to find out, ma’am,” Cobb said,sipping his coffee. “But I need yer help.”
“How can I help?”
“You can tell me where Sarie Hickson was lastnight and explain why she was walkin’ alone through Devil’sAcre.”
Madame LaFrance put her coffee down. “I don’tsee how that can help you catch a knife-wielding fiend.”
“I need to know the time of death. When Ifind that, I’m goin’ to have several constables turn this placeupside down lookin’ fer witnesses. Someone saw or heardsomethin’.”
“Well, if you must know, Sarie was outvisiting a client. I let my girls do private sessions ingentlemen’s homes, provided I know who they are and how they’llbehave.”
“So Sarie was at a gentleman’s house,carryin’ out her duties?” Cobb felt a blush ease up his neck.
“She was scheduled for ten to twelve o’clock.She left here at nine-forty or so. I assume she left the job atmidnight, as usual.”
“The gentleman in question could tell me so,couldn’t he?”
Madame looked wary. “I don’t see any need foryou to know who he was.”
“I’m afraid I do.”
“As you know, I don’t know his real name. Thearrangements were made in the name he uses here. We have hisaddress only.”
“What was his name here?”
“Sir Lancelot.”
Gardiner Clough, thought Cobb. “That willdo,” he said.
“You can’t think a gentleman had anything todo with this?”
“Tell me, were the other two Cavaliers herelast night?”
Something like panic flitted across Madame’sface. “They were.”
“What time did they leave?”
In a voice just above a whisper, she replied,“Just past midnight.”
Cobb reached for his coat and pulled thewhite scarf from his pocket. “Do you recognize this?”
Madame looked at the scarf. “Many gentlemenhave silk scarves like that,” she said.
“But do they have a ‘P’ on them?” Cobb said,flashing the monogram.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at!”
“I’m thinkin’ that ‘P’ could stand fer Pugh,the real name of Sir Gawain.”
Madame looked as if she wished to clamp bothhands over her ears. “My gentlemen are gentlemen!” she cried, muchexercised. “Not cutthroats!”
“I picked up this scarf not two blocks fromwhere we found the body.”
“Then you’ll have to ask the owner yourquestions, won’t you?”
“I’ll do that, ma’am. Thanks fer thecoffee.”
“When can we have the body?” Madame asked. “Ifigure on burying Sarie properly, seeing as she had no real mom ordad.”
“Later today, I imagine. As soon as DocWithers gets through examin’ it.”
Madame LaFrance nodded, then turned to stareat the fire. Cobb let himself out.
***
Cobb knocked on the front door of bankerPugh’s residence. Smithers answered it.
“The tradesman’s entrance is around back,” hesaid, nose in the air.
“I’m a detective with the police,” Cobb said,liking the sound of that phrase.
“You have to use the rear entrance.”
“What I haveta do is speak with Mr. Pugh — immediately. On police business. Is he in?”
“I’ll inquire,” Smithers said. Then as if hecouldn’t help himself he added, “Sir.”
Smithers left Cobb cooling his heels for agood five minutes. He returned and said stiffly, “The master’s inthe library, and he has graciously agreed to see you.”
Cobb followed Smithers and eventually arrivedin said library. Pugh was standing by one of the shelves, fingeringa leather-bound tome.
“Well, Constable, what is it this time?” hesaid, his eye still on the book.
“There’s been another murder, sir.”
Pugh put the book down. “What do you mean,another murder?”
“Another young woman, sir. Sarie Hickson.Found not too far from the first one. Had her throat slashed. Bledto death.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but what has it gotto do with me?”
“You were in Devil’s Acre last night. AtMadame LaFrance’s.”
“I don’t know how you found that out, butit’s none of your business. And I trust you’ll keep thatinformation to yourself.”
Ah, yes, Cobb thought. The wife was not toknow. “But you were there and left about midnight.”
“I have no idea what time I left.”
“Madame LaFrance says it was midnight.”
“Then that’s the time I left, isn’t it? Ihope you aren’t playing games with me. I am not amused by yourinterrogations.”
“Did you go straight home?”
“On my usual route, yes.”
Cobb withdrew the silk scarf. “Is this yours,sir?”
Pugh looked startled. He came across the roomand took the scarf in his hands. “I have half a dozen white silkscarves, Constable. So has every gentleman in town.”
“But notice the monogram on this one.”
Pugh looked at the capital “P.” He did notflinch. “None of my scarves is monogrammed. This cannot bemine.”
“Then you will not refuse when I ask you toshow me the gloves you normally wear when you go out in thisweather.”
“What are you driving at? I’ve already toldyou I didn’t lose a glove three nights ago.”
“Then you won’t mind showin’ me the ones youdidn’t lose.”
“I have several pairs the same. But since youinsist, I’ll humour you. But I shall have to report your behaviourto your superior, Mr. Bagshaw.”
“I’ll wait,” Cobb said.
Pugh left the room and came back severalminutes later. He had a pair of leather gloves in his hand. Hethrust them at Cobb. Cobb took the glove he had found in the alleyout of his other pocket. He examined it closely, next to the onesgiven him by Pugh.
“You see,” Pugh said, “I have a matchedpair.”
“But this one I brought is exactly the samekind of glove,” Cobb said. “Somewhere you’ve got the missin’mate.”
Pugh leaned forward and put both hands on thelibrary table, seething with anger.
“You were in that alley where Sally Butts waskilled,” Cobb said, “and you were loose in Devil’s Acre about thetime that Sarie Hickson was comin’ back from her appointment — ”
“Oh, damn it, all right!” Pugh criedsuddenly. “I was near the alley where Sally was killed! Are yousatisfied?”
“I see,” Cobb said, as surprised as he washappy that he had elicited this admission. “But you didn’t kill thegirl?”
“Of course, I didn’t, you fool! I wasinfatuated with her. Besotted with her.” He drew a deep breath andsaid, “I was at the near end of the alley. I saw Sally towards thefar end. And there was between us a huge man in a black overcoatwearing enormous boots. I saw him go up behind her and grab heraround the chest. I cried out and ran towards her. The dark figurecontinued on up the alley and disappeared around the corner. I wentto Sally. Her throat had been slashed. She was dying. I panicked. Ithought I might be accused of killing her because everybody at thebrothel knew I was obsessed with her. I ran back the way I came andsneaked off home by another route.”
“So the killer was a tall man with largeboots?”
“And a fur hat.”
“And you’re sure this ain’t yer scarf?”
Pugh shook his head. Cobb was almost inclinedto believe him. Certainly his description of the killer fitted withthe bootprints and their size. It didn’t seem probable that Pughwas making all this up. And Pugh, as a discreet glance at thefellow’s feet confirmed, had fairly small feet. Still, he wasn’tfully in the clear as far as Cobb was concerned. The extra bigboots could have been worn by anybody. But he realized he was notgoing to get anything more out of the man this day. He had a lotthough. He was pretty certain he now knew what the killer lookedlike.