“Would it?” Frank posed airily, as though constantly in the habit of spending more than he ought on his correspondence. “I confess that I am so often at sea, Mr. Pethering, that I am not able to keep abreast of the usual forms and charges of landsmen.”

“At sea. Yes, indeed. I imagine you must often be at sea. May I enquire, sir, as to the nature of the intelligence your express conveyed?”

“Gentlemen never look into the contents of each other's mail,” my brother replied with heat

The magistrate abruptly changed tack. “You have heard already of Chessyre's murder, though the body was discovered only this morning and you have been in Portsmouth all day. How, pray, did you learn of it?”

“In much the same manner, I imagine, that you learned of my express. From the mouths of innocent men. The messenger you sent to Portsmouth this morning was the agent of my discovery.”

The magistrate glanced sidelong, his appearance for all the world like that of a long-beaked marsh crane. “So you are not above perusing my correspondence, though I may know nothing of yours. I see how it is. But my message, Captain Austen, was for Admiral Hastings alone.”

“I was aboard the Valiant at the moment the Admiral learned of Chessyre's death. Your note was read aloud to all in attendance at the court-martial.”

“Your friend Seagrave's court-martial,” Mr. Pethering reiterated pointedly.

“I was not aware there was any other, sir.”

“You are deeply concerned in that unpleasant affair, Captain Austen. I wonder that you risk your reputation and standing — a man of your pronounced domestic virtue — in such a cause.”

“I should always support a brother officer,” Frank replied tautly, “particularly when I believe him unjustly accused. But I do not think, sir, that an affair of military justice fells within the scope of your power.”

Here my brother was on uncertain ground. It was true enough that the original charge on Seagrave's head — the killing of the French captain after the surrender of the latter's ship — fell to the disposition of his naval superiors. That crime, if crime it were, had occurred at sea aboard one of His Majesty's vessels. The murder of Lieutenant Chessyre, however, was another kettle of fish. Chessyre had died in Southampton proper, while relieved of his dudes and turned upon shore. The disposition of his case must be considered the magistrate's; and anyone Mr. Pethering suspected of evil should fall within the temporal law, be they naval or no.

We turned into East Street and progressed the brief distance to Mrs. Davies's establishment. The magistrate seemed disposed to ignore, for the nonce, Frank's challenge to his authority. He preferred to pursue a different line.

“If Captain Seagrave ranks so high among your friends, Captain Austen, one must presume that Eustace Chessyre was chief among your enemies.'”

I stumbled slightly at a loose paving, and both men turned.

“It is nothing,” I cried. “Pray do not regard it”

Frank flashed me a brief smile; he must know that anxiety had tripped me up, not an obstacle at my feet. “I date my acquaintance with Mr. Chessyre only from Tuesday, and thus must consider him neither as a friend of the bosom nor an enemy of the heart To what do your questions tend, Mr. Pethering? Or should you like to enter my lodgings, and discuss them further?”

“You need only explain this, Captain Austen,” Mr. Pethering replied, “and I shall trouble you no longer.” With the air of a conjurer he withdrew a square of paper from his coat pocket and thrust it towards Frank.

“That is my card,” my brother observed, without taking it from Mr. Pethering's bony hand.

“Indeed. It was found upon Chessyre's corpse— one of the few things the man seems to have kept about him.”

“I gave it into the Lieutenant's keeping on Tuesday.”

“You met with him?”

“On … an affair of business.”

“You have written your direction upon the reverse, I see. Did you expect Mr. Chessyre to call in East Street?”

“He did call. Unfortunately, I was not at home.” Frank's lips had set in a thin line; he was holding his temper in check only with difficulty.

“How very inconvenient. One wonders what the Lieutenant might have said. Were you very pressing in your invitation, Captain, to seek out your lodgings? Or was the matter of business you wished to discuss better concluded… behind the Walls?”

“Good God, man, if you wish to accuse me of murder — then do so at once! I am confident you will be made to look a fool!”

But the magistrate was studying my indignant brother with calculation. He neither accused nor offered quarter. I understood, suddenly, that he hoped to frighten Frank with his suspicions — and draw forth some intelligence presently withheld. The contents of his express to Captain Seagrave, perhaps?

“Pray come inside, Mr. Pethering,” Frank said at last. “My sister is greatly in need of a warm fire and a glass of claret after her passage up the Solent, and I cannot believe you likely to refuse either.”

“I never take wine,” the magistrate rejoined. “It is most injurious to the health, in my opinion. But I should not say nay to a glass of warm gin, if you have any in the house.”

“It shall be sent for directly.”

THEY WERE CLOSETED IN MRS. DAVIES'S BEST PARLOUR nearly three-quarters of an hour. I sat with Mary before the fire in the dining parlour adjacent, while she tried to attend to her sewing, and threw it down again; chewed at her fingernail, and sighed her impatience. I thought I glimpsed the stain of tears about her pretty eyes; some trouble with the child she carried, or a depth of anxiety for Frank must be the cause. But when at last she spoke, her voice held only fretfulness.

“And so Tom Seagrave's accuser was murdered, and must bring the magistrate to our very door! Thank God my mother has no notion of the scenes to which I am daily subjected — the indignities and sufferings quite thrust upon me, and in my delicate condition! I am sure that Mamma would carry me off to Kent directly, without stopping for a word of explanation; and I am in half a mind to summon her!”

I studied her petulant young face over the edge of my book. “Mr. Chessyre called at this house in search of Frank on Tuesday. It was Chessyre who occasioned Frank's absence from home that night, and Chessyre you must thank for your extreme anxiety then. Mr. Pethering, the magistrate, knows that Frank solicited an interview with Chessyre on Tuesday morning; he has found Frank's card among Chessyre's things. As Tom Seagrave's friend, Frank must be counted among Chessyre's enemies. Must I speak any plainer, Mary, or will the recital do? Your husband is in the gravest danger of being accused of murder.”

Her mouth formed itself into a tragic O. “Frank went in search of the Lieutenant Tuesday night? When I could not sleep?”

“He sought the man throughout the quayside, and among the most unsavoury circles; but failed in the end to meet with him. Tom Seagrave should consider himself greatly obliged to Frank, once he learns of the energy exerted on his behalf—” I broke off. Mary's hand was now pressed to her lips, as though she were ill, and her eyes had filled with tears. “I have upset you. What a wretched thing in one who professes to be your sister! Pray forgive me—”

“So that is why she came in search of him.”

“Who came?”

Mary shook her head. “She would not give her name. A very vulgar sort of person, Jane. Indeed, I believe one might refer to her as a …a …”

“Barque of frailty?” I enquired.[16]

“Not nearly so well-bred as that! She was quite disreputable in her person, and her clothes were in rags. I must confess that she smetted, Jane, most disconcertingly. No, I am afraid we must call her simply a jade, and leave it at that 'As much as my life is worth,' she insisted, 'to speak to Captain Austen; but I must do it' I thought her quite out of her senses.”