“I suppose so, though one expects less change in—well, in some people.”

“Women?”

“Possibly. Sensible women at least.”

“A young man might hang for a murder he didn’t commit. Helen Farrar and Harry Aspinall were murdered because those who stood to benefit from appropriating trust funds feared exposure.”

“I’m sure you’ll tell Commander Woodhead all this.”

“He, all of you, created a bogeyman. I was sent chasing shadows. Will you make it clear that Harry Aspinall was no traitor?”

“I can’t promise.”

“Yes you can. And while you’re thinking about it, would you please bring me a typewriter, paper and carbons. I have a report to write.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Then I’ll type quietly. Help me push that little table nearer the fire.”

Chapter 50

Chapter Fifty

In my borrowed clothes, I entered the portals of New Scotland Yard.

DC Yeats met me in the lobby. Our first-name telephone conversations had been cordial to the point of chumminess. This morning I was back to Mrs. Shackleton.

“Did you have a good journey, Mrs. Shackleton?”

“What do you think!”

“Like that was it?”

“I’d recommend that journey only to someone I heartily dislike.”

“I can’t imagine you heartily disliking anyone.”

It was a light-hearted remark, and yet it struck a chord. In spite of everything, I was finding it hard to see Gertrude differently. If Mrs. Dell was right, she was a killer. If not, she must have had at least an inkling of what Benjie, Raynor and Eliot had done. She was responsible for tossing orphans to the winds. Yet I felt a well of pity for her. To do such deeds, she must have felt desperate beyond my imagining, or have always had a streak of evil. In my mind’s eye, she was still twelve years old, riding her pony, with such a look of mischief, and laughter.

We stepped into the lift with a uniformed sergeant and three plainclothes men, and made our silent way up the building.

Mr. Woodhead stood to greet me in his usual courteous fashion, and yet with an edginess in his manner. He was moving too much, rubbing his thumbs along his fingers, leaning forward, and then sitting back. Something had happened.

“Thank you so much for coming all this way, almost on an impulse I think?”

“Not an impulse, Commander.” I put my report on his desk. “This isn’t complete. Mr. Sykes is tying up loose ends but I believe you will have corroborated Harry Aspinall’s identity?”

“Yes.” He glanced at my report. “And I have had information telegraphed to me from Wakefield CID.” He could barely hide his annoyance. “You have been very busy, Mrs. Shackleton. Caused quite a stir.”

That was my mistake. He wanted me to report to him so that he could choose who and what to tell. Now that Wakefield CID had more details, the investigation might take a different turn.