"Oh, I've been beaten before," Monk said quickly. "And in more important cases than this. It is just that this is so stupid. It didn't have to have happened. The man has ruined himself... and it is tragic because he is a genius."

"Is he?" Gabriel was interested.

"Oh, yes," Monk replied without doubt. "I was in one of his buildings. It was not quite finished, but even so it was all light and air." He heard the enthusiasm in his own voice. "Every line in it was pleasing. Not familiar, because it was different, and yet it gave the feeling that it was so right it should have been. Like hearing a perfect piece of music ... not man created but merely discovered. It reveals something one recognizes instantly." He tried to describe it. "It is a kind of joy not quite like anything else. That is what infuriates me ... the man has no right to destroy himself, and over something so stupid! An ounce of common sense and it could all have been avoided."

Gabriel bit his lip. "It is surely the essence of true tragedy, that it was avoidable. Someone will write a great play on it, perhaps."

"It's not good enough," Monk said in disgust. "It's farcical and pointless."

"You think Hester can still help?"

"Probably not."

Gabriel smiled. If he thought perhaps Monk had come for some other reason, he was too tactful to say so.

They were speaking of other subjects when Perdita Sheldon came in. She was dressed in mid green with a wide skirt, which was very fashionable, the lace trimming on the bodice lightening it. Had she had a little more color in her cheeks and seemed less anxious, she would have looked lovely.

"Mrs. Harming has called. Will—will you see her? You don't have to...."

Gabriel obviously did not recognize the name. His face showed only the apprehension he might in seeing anyone.

"Hanning," Perdita repeated. "Major Hanning's wife." She watched him tensely. Her back was stiff, her hands moving restlessly in front of her, smoothing her huge skirt as if she were about to meet someone of great importance, although it was only a nervous gesture because she did not look down to see what she had done. "He was killed at Gwalior."

"Oh ..." Gabriel stared back at her, breathing in very slowly, his jaw tightening, his lips close together on the good side of his face, the scar curiously immobile. Oddly, it made his apprehension even more evident.

"I'll tell her you're not well enough," Perdita said hastily.

"No..."

"She'll understand." She did not move. She thought she knew what she should do to protect him, and yet even that decision was difficult. She had to resolve in order to make it and she watched him for approval. "Perhaps ... later... in a few weeks..."

"No. No, I'll see her today." He too had to steel himself.