Free The Hidden Man by Robin Blake

yes.’
    â€˜And it wasn’t sufficient?’
    â€˜It was adequate for the matters of day-to-day – when he gave it.’
    â€˜What do you mean by that?’
    â€˜There have been occasions recently when he has not given me the full amount. It should be ten shillings out of which come all wages, and all provisions. Some weeks lately he has only given me five shillings. One week it was as little as three and sixpence, which barely covers the servants’ pay. Myself, I haven’t had any surplus for myself for two months.’
    â€˜Is that how he did it – let you keep any surplus from the ten shillings for your own wage?’
    â€˜Yes – he said it encouraged thrift in me. It sufficed, so long as he gave me the full ten shillings.’
    â€˜So would you say his failure to do that recently means that his business affairs have been running into difficulties?’
    â€˜I couldn’t say. As I told you, I really know nothing about Mr Pimbo’s business.’
    â€˜Did you know Mr Zadok Moon, Mr Pimbo’s business associate? Did he visit this house?’
    â€˜Yes. He was here, but only once to my knowledge. It was some time ago.’
    â€˜Why did he come?’
    She shrugged.
    â€˜On business, I suppose. He went into Mr Pimbo’s library and stayed a hour or two. Then he left.’
    â€˜Can you describe him?’
    â€˜A small dark-haired man, bearded, wearing riding habit and a wide-brimmed hat.’
    â€˜That is all?’
    â€˜I only saw him briefly, when I answered the door. It was after dark. Mr Pimbo came immediately, sent me to my quarters and brought Mr Moon inside himself.’
    â€˜Would you know the man again?’
    â€˜I am not sure that I would. I am sorry.’
    â€˜Would you say Mr Pimbo had been in any way melancholy, low in spirits or unusually irritable in recent weeks?’
    She shrugged and her mouth tightened.
    â€˜I don’t know. Perhaps.’
    â€˜Peg happened to mention that he had been off his food?’
    â€˜That’s true. But he said he was poorly in the stomach.’
    â€˜Were there any other symptoms of this? Was he in pain, for instance?’
    â€˜I don’t know. But let me say something. Mr Pimbo was a man whose habit was to talk big and bold – you understand?’
    She was talking more urgently now, and patches of colour had spread on her upper neck and cheeks. She went on,
    â€˜So even when I had suspicions about his not paying the full amount of the housekeeping, even when I heard from the tradesmen that he still owed them. Or even when he lost his appetite for food and said he was poorly, this big-talk, this – what d’you call it?’
    â€˜Bombast?’ I supplied.
    She thumped her fist on the chair’s arm.
    â€˜Exactly! This bombast of his hardly diminished. He was going to be the great banker, the great merchant, the great man! So it was difficult, you see, to tell what more quiet feelings, if any, lay beneath.’
    â€˜Thank you, Miss Peel. I understand what you are saying perfectly, but I do have a slight difficulty with it. When we met yesterday, as soon as I gave you the news that Mr Pimbo was dead, your first reaction was to ask if he had done away with himself. Why, if you couldn’t tell his state of mind, did that of all questions drop first into your head? It suggests to me that you had been half expecting such news.’
    For a long moment Miss Peel said nothing, but I noticed that the high colour of her complexion was still deepening.
    â€˜I asked that for— I mean, I was prompted to ask it for another reason. A private reason. I must ask you to respect that privacy.’
    â€˜I’m afraid it may be rather material to the inquest, Miss Peel. But let’s put it aside for now. May I ask you instead about Mr Pimbo’s will? I wonder if you know what’s in it?’
    â€˜His will? No, of course not! I know nothing about