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“What makes you say that?”
“This man, this Henry Seal, who has sent the missive…I get the impression he’s trying to
make a name for himself, that’s all. The report is suspiciously detailed. And yet he dispatched this…
this…what was the fellow’s name? This Morose or Morass or whatever he was to examine the
bodies.”
“It’s Morass, and I doubt Seal was the one who sent him,” Trevor said, drawing the
paper back across the desk. “The double structure of India’s government leads to much overlap of
duties and confusion, so I can only assume Morass and Seal come from different divisions. You have
the Viceroy, of course, who reports to Parliament and as you see by his title, Seal is most likely with
them. And then each geographic region is its own presidency, with its own Governor, and my guess
would be that Morass is from that division. A group of military boys who are undoubtedly in over
their heads but still reluctant to call in the Viceroy’s men. You know, a bit like the local coppers
always resent Scotland Yard when we come crashing about, telling them their business. Only in this
case it’s worse because there is no clear chain of command.”
Rayley raised an eyebrow. “You know all this off the top of your head?”
Trevor chuckled. “I will admit that I’ve spent the best part of the last hour doing a study
of how justice is dispensed in India. And the answer appears to be ‘badly.’ Geraldine is quite right.
Even with his exalted title, there’s no telling what sort of investigation or trial Anthony Weaver can
expect.”
“Do you think she’s really going?”
“If Gerry makes up her mind on something, no one can stop her. Speaking of which,
where’s Tom?”
“Got a bit of blood on him during the examination upstairs,” Rayley said with a shrug.
“Said he was going home for a wash and a change of shirt.”
“And you believed him? You let him go? He’s plotting with his aunt, and there’s no
doubt about it. My guess is both he and Emma will be on that same steamer to Bombay.”
“What if they are, Welles?” Rayley said, leaning back in his chair. “Tom and Emma are
unpaid volunteers. They’re free to do exactly as they please and besides, anyone can see that Miss
Bainbridge should not undertake such a lengthy journey alone.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Trevor said, “but we can’t ask the Queen to release us
again, not so shortly after Russia. Or Paris, for that matter.”
“Whyever not? We have no pending case.”
“Not at the moment, no.”
“And we went to Russia entirely at her behest. To assist her in a private matter of her
own, as I recall.”
“Nonetheless, I won’t go to Her Majesty yet again asking for leave,” Trevor said
resolutely. “Not so soon. And not for some ridiculous case of marital violence. A man kills his
wife. A tragedy, certainly. But of the most common sort, and hardly one that requires our specialized
skills. No, we shan’t go with Geraldine, no matter how she begs.”
“Has she begged?”
“Not yet,” Trevor admitted. “But she will.”
“I wonder if the Queen has heard of this sad affair,” Rayley mused.
“Why should the Queen concern herself with something like this?”
“Come now, Welles,” Rayley said. “The dead woman, after all, is the widow of a well
known military hero, a man with statues cast in his honor. The accused is a retired Secretary-General,