"It could be," he said gently. "And it also might be why her father was killed, so don't imagine they would give a moment's thought as to whether or not they should kill you if they see you as a threat! So-"

"I know that! I have no intention of going back there again, I promise."

He looked at her closely, steadily, and saw the fear in her eyes. She would keep her word; he did not need to ask her for a promise. "Not only your life," he said, his voice softer. "The lives of others, too."

"I know. What are you going to do?"

"Make the tea," he said ruefully. "Then I'm going to consider who had the opportunity to kill James Havilland. As for Mary's death-we'll never prove that Toby meant to kill her, and since he died as well, the matter of justice has been rather well settled."

"Do you think she held on to him and took him with her on purpose?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "I think she could do that."

"It isn't enough, though, is it?"

He could never lie to her. She could see right inside him, whether she meant to or not.

"No. It doesn't make sense that Alan Argyll would take a risk like that. It would ruin him. There's something else that we don't know. We haven't got all of it."

She put her arms around him again, holding him more tightly.

In the morning the situation seemed less clear-cut. If it had been Toby Argyll, young and ambitious, who was behind it all, then he was beyond anyone's reach now, and blackening his name would be seen as pointlessly cruel. Alan Argyll would do everything possible to prevent that, and Monk would earn for the River Police a bitter enemy. His proof would have to be absolute. No one would care about rescuing the reputation of James Havilland, and even less about Mary's. Naturally Farnham would see no purpose in it at all.

Monk's accountability to Farnham was one of the prices to pay for the authority and regular income his uniform gave him. He did not fear financial insecurity this winter as he had last. Thinking of ways to skirt around Farnham s prejudices was a small enough price to pay.

He needed to know a lot more about both Toby and Alan Argyll. It was difficult to form an opinion of someone who was dead, especially if he had died young and tragically. No one liked to speak of such individuals except in hushed and careful tones, as if death removed all weaknesses from them, not to mention actual sins.

Perhaps a good place to begin would be with those who had cared for the other dead people, James and Mary Havilland. This time he would see the housekeeper, Mrs. Kitching. He might even ask Cardman again, and persuade him to be rather less stiffly discreet.