Stonefield. The simple truth is he made an error of judgment in trade which Mr. Stonefield avoided, and at a juncture in the ebb and flow of business when it cost him very dear. He understood that, I believe, and took it like a man.”

Monk was inclined to believe him, but he would still see Titus Niven for himself.

“Was he the only visitor?” he asked.

Arbuthnot colored painfully and took several moments to compose his answer.

His hands were clenched together in front of him, and he looked anywhere but at Monk's eyes.

“No, sir. There was also a lady . . . at least, a female person. I don't know how to describe her . . . .”

“Honestly!” Monk said tersely.

Arbuthnot drew in his breath, then let it out again.

Monk waited.

Arbuthnot took him very literally, as if it were an escape from expressing a more personal judgment.

“Ordinary sort of height, a trifle thin maybe, but that's a matter of opinion I suppose. Quite well built, really, considering where she came from-”

“Where did she come from?” Monk interrupted. The man was rambling. “Oh, Limehouse way, I should think, from her speech.” Unconsciously Arbuthnot was widening his nostrils and tightening his lips, as though he smelled something distasteful. But then if he were correct and she had come from the slums of the East End dockside, he may well have. The damp overcrowded rooms, the open middens, and the sewage from the river made any alternative impossible.

“Handsome,” Arbuthnot said sadly. “At least nature gave her that, even if she did her best to hide it with paint and garish clothes. Very immodest.”

“A prostitute?” Monk said bluntly.

Arbuthnot winced. “I have no idea. She said nothing to indicate so.”

“What did she say? For heaven's sake, man, don't make me draw answers from you like teeth! Who was she and what did she want? Not to buy or sell corn futures!”

“Of course not!” Arbuthnot blushed furiously. “She asked for Mr.

Stonefield, and when I informed him of her presence, he saw her immediately.” He took another deep breath. “She had been here before.

Twice, that I am aware of. She gave her name as Selina, just that, no surname.”

“Thank you. What did Mr. Stonefield say about her? Did he explain her presence?”

Arbuthnot's eyes widened. “No, sir. It was not our business to inquire into who she was.”

“And he felt no wish to tell you?” Monk let his surprise show. “Who did you suppose her to be? Don't say you did not think of it.”

“Well, yes,” Arbuthnot admitted. “Naturally we did won- der who she was. I assumed it was something to do with his brother, since as you observe, it could not be business.”

The first flush of fire settled down now that the kindling was burned, and Arbuthnot put more coal on.

“What was Mr. Stonefield's manner after she left?” Monk pursued.