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�He will never be heard from again,� said West. �But then, as a woman of science, and one who apparently keeps up with the story in the papers, you ought to have noticed that the modus operandi of this killer�or killers�is different. Plainly put, no mutilations, only one primary wound�most often the throat, sometimes the chest. Hastily made, nothing removed, and the victim usually bleeds to death.� He stood back and watched her, wanting to see her reaction, to see if she were really as staunch and professional as she made herself out to be. But all Rose Hannah said was, �But you do know who it was?� He had to admit that she passed the test. �Suffice it to say, Miss Munro, that my current work will never suffer for funding so long as that identity is something the government wants to remain hidden.� West put his finger to his lips. �And that we�d better move along unless we want to be overheard.� �You don�t have to walk with me, Dr. West,� she said in what she thought was a kindly tone, but he had already taken the gutter side of the street like a proper gentleman--which was unusual for West, to say the least. �I know�that you�d rather be on your own.� �Call it a rusty sense of chivalry. Where were you going?� �Just one more errand, actually," she said, cutting her list short out of courtesy. "A photography shop. It isn�t far.� Carmichael Photography was, in fact, just two streets over in Piccadilly. The shop was small but spit-polished; the young man at the counter turned out to be the owner himself. �I was wondering if you could make copies of these, but partially cropped,� Rose Hannah said, spreading out a number of silver-grey photographs on albumen paper, all of them featuring a rather severe young man with a drooping mustache. �I can bring the negatives, if you need them, but I didn�t want to risk breaking the glass on the way here�� Carmichael gave her a friendly smile. �No, Miss, we ought to be able to fix these up just fine. It�s a common order, you know�we call it a quarrel package.� Rose Hannah blushed; West caught her eye and looked away in a rare gesture of politeness. �If you and the gentleman will step into the back office with me�� They glanced at each other uncomfortably, unsure if the photographer thought that one lover was forcing her to cut the other away, and then if it were worth the embarrassment to set him straight. �I�m sure� my sister could manage for herself,� West said finally, �but I may as well come too.� She lagged behind as Carmichael cheerfully strode on ahead. �I can, you know,� she whispered. "Manage for myself." �I�m sure of it, Miss Munro, but you never know what could happen.� �Is that how you go through life? Always suspicious?� �Always.� �Just in here, Miss,� said Carmichael, �to look at a few frames.� The photographer had such a selection, from carved rosewood and ebony to silver filigree and goldleaf, that West realized with an inward groan that this was going to take a while. He wandered off to the other end of the room, perusing the display photographs on the wall, until an enlargement in pride of place caught his eye. �Fine composition,� West said over his shoulder. �Who is the lady in the background?� They both turned to see what he meant. The photograph featured a sunny young woman posing with two small children. Rose Hannah thought she recognized the background as a part of Hyde Park she used to frequent when out riding; the young woman looked like a nursemaid, her dress much simpler than the children�s clothes, but she had an apple-fresh look about her that almost�almost�successfully distracted the eye from a woman walking past in the background, seemingly turning to look at the camera in surprise as the picture was taken. �That�s the most beautiful woman�!� began Rose Hannah in shock. The photographer looked pleased. �Lovely, isn�t she? I took that a few years ago for a sweetheart of mine�my wife now, actually�she was governess to the children, and I took the picture as a favor to her, to give to the parents. But to be very honest with you, I kept it for that lady you�ve just noticed. No one sees the picture but they remark on it.� �My God�I know her�� Carmichael looked piqued. �So you do know her then, Miss?� �I�what was her name?� �I haven�t the faintest clue. She merely walked past as I took the picture, and we never saw her again.� West folded his arms with interest. �A few years ago�when, exactly?� �I�ve only been married three years now, but we were engaged at the time, Lucy and I�� �So�it couldn�t have been but four or five years ago at the most?� �I would say so, yes.� Rose Hannah left the counter and peered into the very grain of the photograph on the wall. �It must be� an amazing coincidence� not the lady I know, but very like her�� �Are you sure?� �Yes� she� is a friend of mine in the States, and has never been here� it couldn�t be her�� She finished her business very quickly after that, too distracted to select anything more complicated than a few simple silver frames. �Have them�delivered, please,� she added in a fit of distraction, and would have forgotten to give the photographer her card if West had not reminded her. They walked down the street in silence for a full minute before Rose Hannah thought to say, �The carriage isn�t far. You can leave, if you like.� �It�s time I got back anyway.� They walked. �You know, considering that you thought the woman was a friend of yours,� said West, �you seemed a bit rattled.� �I only told him that because�� She started off as if to make a clean breast of it, and then changed mid-sentence: �If I tell you who I thought she was, you�ll think me a lunatic.� �Miss Munro, I have seen a great many strange things in my time. I wouldn�t worry about that if I were you.� �All right then�Mrs. Kirke and I were at a salon the other night, and I saw that woman in a painting. Only the painting is thirty years old. But it�s the same woman, I promise you�� �Not her daughter, not a chance of that?� �This woman died, they said she died after the portrait was finished�� His voice sharpened: �She died?� �It can�t be a ghost, Dr. West, I refuse to believe that. I absolutely, scientifically refuse. Besides� her face is the same but her hair is different, it�s the same woman but she�s dressed in the current style, I don�t see how a ghost could do that.� She muttered after herself, �Particularly seeing as there are no such things as ghosts�� �But you�re sure? You�re sure the two women are the same?� �Dr. West, I can�t be sure of anything.� �Which gallery was this?� �Salon Lyonnaise�oh, no, you�re not going to compare, are you?� she cried in dismay. �It can�t hurt, can it?� They reached the carriage and West gave the driver the Salon�s address, with Rose Hannah begging him all the while�please forget about it, it isn�t that strong a likeness, I�ll look like a fool when you see it for yourself�but he waved all of that away: �It�s my own professional curiosity, Miss Munro. I have to look into these things.� She folded her arms in frustration. �What is your profession, if you don�t mind my asking? I�ve yet to hear what it could be. Besides medicine, which you don�t seem to practice, either.� West looked at her sidelong and hesitated. �I�m professionally curious,� he said. The Salon hadn�t opened by the time they reached it, but they could see a few people bustling about inside��Only a charwoman,� Rose Hannah said, �there�s no one to ask, we might as well go�� �That man in the suit there�we can ask him,� said West, and sure enough, there was sleek Mr. Beasley, paging through what looked like an account book. West rapped on the window and the man looked up, then hurried forward to open the door. �I am so very, very sorry to bother you,� began Rose Hannah� �If we could trouble you just a moment,� says West smoothly. �My sister��Rose Hannah shot him a look��saw a painting and wanted to show it to me before I left town this afternoon.� �You showed it to me earlier this week,� she added. Mr. Beasley gave her a perplexed look. �I�m sorry, madam�I don�t recall.� �But I have your card�� And just as things were about to become insupportably confusing, she heard footsteps coming down the hall�and a second Mr. Beasley, identically sleek and minky, appeared. �It�s one of mine, John,� the second Mr. Beasley�or the first, really�said cheerfully. �That settles it, then!� said the other Mr. Beasley. �Do come in, madam�and sir. Do come in.� The Mr. Beasleys led them briskly down the gallery hall, speaking in tandem as they walked: �The gallery doesn�t open until one�� ��but I do remember how much interest you and your companion had in the Hewitt collection�� ��and we are more than happy to give you a private tour. Which painting�� ��was it that you wanted to see, again?�And they both looked back at Rose Hannah. �The portrait of Rachel Carey,� she said. �Ohhhhhh,� they said to each other, as if that explained everything. West followed this without a word, taking notes with his eyes. �It is lovely�� ��and one of the best in the collection�� And there it was, second room, fifth from the right. Even West was startled by the resemblance. He walked around it a little, going closer and drawing back, peering at it from this direction and that. He looked back at Rose Hannah, who gave him the Eyebrow of I Told You So. �I want to buy it,� West announced at last. The Mr. Beasleys looked at each other. �The price� is a bit high,� said the first Mr. Beasley. �I want to buy it.� The second Mr. Beasley quoted him a sum, and Rose Hannah looked at West, aghast. �The price is no object,� West said with all calmness. �It would be better to settle it now, though, rather than let the gallery open for the day and risk another buyer stealing it out from under me.� �We would never let that happen to� such a good client,� stammered the second Mr. Beasley. �Have it sent to Munro House,� he said, and motioned for the shocked Rose Hannah to give the Beasleys her card. �Consider it my gift, sister dear,� he added with a barely perceptible wink. |
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