"Don't be absurd!" Sir Herbert snapped. "If a patient has died unexpectedly I will attend to it when I'm finished here." He turned slowly to look at Callandra. His face was pale and there were sharp lines of anger between his brows.

"One of the nurses has been strangled and stuffed down the laundry chute," Callandra said slowly and very clearly. "That can hardly be called a misjudgment. It is beyond question a crime, and if you cannot leave here to summon the police, I will do so on your behalf. The body will remain where it is. Dr. Beck is seeing that it is not disturbed."

There was a sharp hiss of breath between teeth. One of the student doctors let slip a blasphemy.

Sir Herbert lowered his hands, still holding the bloody needle and its long thread. He faced Callandra, his eyes bright, his face tight.

"One of the nurses?" he repeated very slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Callandra answered. "It is Barrymore."

"Oh." He hesitated. "That is appalling. Yes, by all means, you'd better call the police. I shall finish here and be available to meet them by the time they arrive. You had better take a hansom yourself rather than send a messenger, and for goodness sake be as discreet as you can. We don't want a panic in the place. The sick will suffer." His expression darkened. "Who else knows of it already, apart from Dr. Beckf'

"Mrs. Flaherty, the laundrywomen, and one skivvy whom I asked Mrs. Flaherty to watch over, for that reason."

"Good." His expression relaxed a little. "Then you had better leave immediately. I should be ready when you return." He did not apologize for not having listened to her immediately, or for his rudeness, not that she had expected him to.

She took a hansom cab, as he had suggested, and ordered the driver to take her to Monk's old police station. It was probably the closest, and it was certainly the one of which she knew the address and where she was confident of finding a senior officer with a proper sense of discretion. She used her title to obtain immediate attention.

"Lady Callandra." Runcorn rose from his seat as soon as she was shown in. He came over to greet her, extending his hand, then changing his mind and bowing very slightly instead. He was a tall man with a narrow face bordering on handsome in a certain manner, but it was belied by lines of temper around his mouth and a lack of assurance which one would not have expected in an officer of his seniority. One had only to look at him to know that he and Monk could never be at ease with each other. Monk was assured, even arrogant, his convictions deeply seated and dominated by intellect, his ambition boundless. Runcorn held his convictions equally deeply, but lacked the personal confidence. His emotions were uncertain, his humor simple. His ambition was also keen but his vulnerability was plain in his face. He could be swayed and cut by what other people thought of him.

"Good morning, Mr. Runcom," Callandra replied with a light smile. She accepted the seat he offered her. "I regret I have a crime to report and it may prove to be a sensitive matter. I wished to tell you of it in person rather than find a constable in the street. I'm afraid it is very serious."

"Indeed." Already he looked in some indefinable way satisfied, as though the fact she had confided in him were an accolade. "I am sorry to hear it. Is it a matter of robbery?"

"No." She dismissed robbery as of no consequence. "It is murder."

His complacency disappeared but his attention quickened. "Who has been killed, ma'am? I will see that my very best officer is on the case straightaway. Where did this happen?"

"In the Royal Free Hospital on the Gray's Inn Road," she replied. "One of the nurses has been strangled and placed down the laundry chute. I have come straight from there. Sir Herbert Stanhope is the chief medical officer and a surgeon of some note."

"I've heard of him, of course. An excellent man." Runcorn nodded. "Indeed, an excellent man. He sent you to report this matter?"

"In a sense." It was foolish to resent the reference to Sir Herbert, as if he had taken charge and she were merely a messenger, and yet she knew that was what it would come to in the end. "I was one of those who found the body," she added.

"Most distressing for you," Runcorn said sympathetically. "May I send for something to restore you? Perhaps a cup of tea?"

"No thank you," she said rather more briskly than she had meant. She was shaken and her mouth felt dry. "No thank you. I should prefer to return to the hospital and allow your officer to begin his investigation of the matter," she added. "I have left Dr. Beck standing guard over the corpse to see that nothing is moved or altered. He has been there for some time by now."

"Of course. Most commendable of you, ma'am." Runcorn said it with what he doubtless intended to be approval, but to Callandra it sounded intolerably condescending. She nearly asked him if he had expected her to behave like a fool and leave the body for anyone to move or alter, but recalled herself only just in time. She was more distressed than she had thought. She found to her surprise that her hands were trembling. She thrust them into the concealing folds of her skirt so Runcom would not see them. She stared at him expectantly.

He rose to his feet, excusing himself, and went to the door, opening it and calling in a constable. "Send Inspector Jeavis up here right away. I have a new case for him and Sergeant Evan."

The answer was indistinguishable, but it was barely a few moments before a dark saturnine man put his head around the door inquiringly, then followed immediately, his lean body dressed in very formal black trousers and a black frock coat. A white winged collar made him look like a city clerk or an undertaker. His manner was peculiarly both hesitant and assured. He looked at Runcorn and then at Callandra, as if to ask permission, though he did not wait for it but stood equally between them.

"Jeavis, this is Lady Callandra Daviot," Runcorn began, then he realized he had made a social error. He should have presented him to her, not the other way around. He blushed angrily but there was no way to retrieve it.

Without thought Callandra rescued him. It was the instinctive thing to do.

"Thank you for sending for Mr. Jeavis so rapidly, Mr. Runcorn. I'm sure it will prove to be the best arrangement possible. Good morning, Mr. Jeavis."

"Good morning, ma'am." He bowed very slightly, and she found him instantly irritating. He had a sallow face and thick black hair and very fine eyes, the darkest she had ever seen, but curiously light brows. It was unfair to prejudge the man, and she knew it even while she did it. "Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me what crime you have suffered?" he inquired.

"None at all," she replied hastily. "I am on the Board of Governors at the Royal Free Hospital in the Gray's Inn Road. We have just discovered the corpse of one of our young nurses in the laundry chute. She appears to have been strangled."

"Oh dear. How very unpleasant. When you say 'we,' ma'am, whom precisely do you mean?" Jeavis asked. In spite of his obsequious manner his look was penetrating and highly intelligent. She had the sense of being very thoroughly weighed and that the judgment would have none of the social deference he suggested outwardly.

"Myself and Dr. Kristian Beck, who is one of the physicians at the hospital," she replied. "And in a sense the women in the laundry room, and a child who is employed as a skivvy."

"Indeed. What caused you to be examining the laundry chute, ma'am?" His head cocked curiously to one side. "Surely that is not part of the duties of a lady such as yourself?"

She explained to him how it had come about and he listened without taking his eyes from her face.

Runcorn fidgeted from one foot to the other, uncertain whether to interrupt or not, and at a loss for something to say to keep his place in the proceedings.