Free The Face of a Stranger by Anne Perry Page B

center of the room and sat down on a hard-backed, carved chair.
He waved his arm vaguely, giving Monk permission to do so too.
    "Indeed?" Monk chose another hard-backed chair so as not to be
below Scarsdale.
    "Oh yes, a very old family," Scarsdale said with relish.
"The Dowager Lady Shelburne, his mother, of course, was the eldest
daughter of the Duke of Ruthven, at least I think it was he; certainly the duke
of somewhere."
    "Joscelin Grey," Monk reminded him.
    "Oh. Very pleasant fellow; officer in the Crimea, forgotten which
regiment, but a very distinguished record." He nodded vigorously.
"Wounded at Sebastopol, I think he said, then invalided out. Walked with a
limp, poor devil. Not that it was disfiguring. Very good-looking fellow, great
charm, very well liked, you know."
    "A wealthy family?"
    "Shelburne?" Scarsdale was faintly amused by Monk's ignorance
and his confidence was beginning to return. "Of course. But I suppose you
know, or perhaps you don't." He looked Monk up and down disparagingly.
"But naturally all the money went to the eldest son, the present Lord
Shelburne. Always happens that way, everything to the eldest, along with the
title. Keeps the estates whole, otherwise everything would be in bits and
pieces, d'you understand? All the power of the land gone!"
    Monk controlled his sense of being patronized; he was perfectly aware of
the laws of primogeniture.
    "Yes, thank you. Where did Joscelin Grey's money come from?"
    Scarsdale waved his hands, which were small, with wide knuckles and very
short nails. "Oh business interests, I presume. I don't believe he had a
great deal, but he didn't appear in any want. Always dressed well. Tell a lot
from a fellow's clothes, you know." Again he looked at Monk with a faint
curl of his lip, then saw the quality of Monk's jacket and the portion of his
shirt that was visible, and changed his mind, his eyes registering confusion.
    "And as far as you know he was neither married nor betrothed?''
Monk kept a stiff face and hid at least most of his satisfaction.
    Scarsdale was surprised at his inefficiency.
    "Surely you know that?"
    "Yes, we know there was no official arrangement," Monk said,
hastening to cover his mistake. "But you are in a position to know if
there was any other relationship, anyone in whom he—had an interest?"
    Scarsdale's rather full mouth turned down at the corners.
    "If you mean an arrangement of convenience, not that I am aware of.
But then a man of breeding does not inquire into the personal tastes—or
accommodations—of another gentleman."
    "No, I didn't mean a financial matter," Monk answered with
the shadow of a sneer. "I meant some lady he might have—admired—or even
been courting."
    Scarsdale colored angrily. "Not as far as I know."
    "Was he a gambler?"
    "I have no idea. I don't gamble myself, except with friends, of
course, and Grey was not among them. I haven't heard anything, if that's what
you mean."
    Monk realized he would get no more this evening, and he was tired. His
own mystery was heavy at the back of his mind. Odd, how emptiness could be so
intrusive. He rose to his feet.
    "Thank you, Mr. Scarsdale. If you should hear anything to throw
light on Major Grey's last few days, or who might have wished him harm, I am
sure you will let us know. The sooner we apprehend this man, the safer it will
be for everyone."
    Scarsdale rose also, his face tightening at the subtle and unpleasant
reminder that it had happened just across the hall from his own flat,
threatening his security even as he stood there.
    "Yes, naturally," he said a little sharply. "Now if you
    will be good enough to permit me to change—I have a dinner engagement,
you know."
    * * * * *
    Monk arrived at the police station to find Evan waiting for him. He was
surprised at the sharpness of his pleasure at seeing him. Had he always been a
lonely person, or was this just the isolation from memory, from all that might
have been love or warmth