Free William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea by Anne Perry Page A

knowledge led to death. Especially children. That was only part of his work, but that was what he did.”
    Monk was still trying to imagine the man who had gone to Limehouse to visit Zenia Gadney, who paid her every month. So far, the picture was so incomplete and contradictory as to be almost meaningless. And
why
had he taken his own life? So far that made no sense, either.
    “Was he a successful man, financially?” he asked, feeling as if he were poking at an open wound.
    “Of course,” she said, as if the question were a little foolish. “He was brilliant.”
    “Scientific brilliance is not always financially rewarded,” he pointed out. Was it possible she had no idea of his business affairs? Could he have gambled and lost badly? Or was it possible someone had blackmailed him over his visits to Limehouse, and when he could no longer pay, he had committed suicide rather than face the shame, and the ruin of his family? Other men, outwardly just as respectable, had done so.
    “Look around you, Mr. Monk,” Mrs. Lambourn said simply. “Do we appear to be in difficult times as far as money is concerned? I assure you, I am not ignorant of my situation. Joel’s man of affairs has advised me very thoroughly in exactly what we have, and how to both use it and conserve the principal, so that we shall not fall into difficulty. We are more than comfortably provided for.”
    That at least would be easy enough to check, and he would have someone do so.
    “I’m glad,” he said sincerely. “Mrs. Gadney was not so fortunate. She lived very much from one month to the next.”
    “I’m sorry for her, but that is not my concern,” Dinah replied. “Indeed, since the poor woman is dead, you say, it is not anyone’s now.”
    He could not let it go. “Are you sure you did not know that your husband visited her every month?” he repeated. “It seems an extraordinary breach of trust, especially for a man who hated liars.”
    The color washed up her face and she drew in her breath sharply. She opened her mouth to respond, and then closed it when she quite clearly realized she did not know what to say.
    Monk leaned forward a little and his voice was gentle. “I think it is time for the truth, Mrs. Lambourn. I promise you I’ll find out either way, but it would be easier if you would just tell me. I give you my word that if your husband’s relationship with Zenia Gadney has no connection with her murder, I will not make it public. So now I’ll ask you again: Did you know about his visits to Zenia Gadney?”
    “Yes,” she said in a whisper.
    “When did you learn?”
    “Years ago. I don’t remember how long.”
    He did not know whether to believe her or not. Certainly there was no shock or surprise in her now; but then if she had discovered it only two months ago, grief at Lambourn’s suicide would have outweighed any other emotion in her. If she had known for years, how had she lived with it so happily, according to her? Perhaps a woman’s acceptance of such an arrangement was something a man would never understand. He could not imagine how he would ever endure it if Hester were to betray him in that way. The idea was one he could not even look at.
    Dinah was regarding him with the outward calm of one who has already faced the worst she can think of and has no energy left to fear anything more.
    There had been a passionate hatred in whoever had ripped open Zenia Gadney and left her on the pier like so much rubbish.
    “Was Zenia Gadney the only woman your husband visited and paid, Mrs. Lambourn?” he asked. “Or were there others?”
    She froze, as if he had slapped her. “She was the only one,” she replied with such certainty that he found it hard to disbelieve her. “I don’t know if she … dealt with others. But you say she didn’t.”
    “Not while Dr. Lambourn was alive,” he agreed. “And after that there appeared to be no one regular.”
    She looked down at her hands again.
    “Why did Dr. Lambourn