Inspector Zachary Boone was busier than ever, listening to reports about various incidents, dispatching constables to investigate others, speculating with his superintendent on the outcome of a trial and juggling a large number of other commitments. When three visitors from London suddenly descended on him, Boone was upbraiding a luckless constable who had foolishly allowed a suspect to evade capture. Pleased to see Colbeck again, he reserved judgement on his friend’s companions. In Boone’s opinion, Leeming looked like a battle-scarred wrestler in stolen apparel while Peebles resembled nothing so much as an overgrown schoolboy. The inspector was surprised to learn that they were both serving officers in the Detective Department.
‘You’re very welcome,’ said Boone, standing behind his desk, ‘but if you expect to sit down in here, it will have to be on the floor. There’s only room for my chair and one other.’
‘We’re happy to stand, Zachary,’ said Colbeck.
‘Did you have a good journey?’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘It was an express train,’ explained Peebles. ‘The inspector chose it specifically. We couldn’t have had a better trip.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ said Leeming. ‘Trains upset my stomach.’
‘Sympathetic as we are,’ said Colbeck with a consoling smile, ‘we can’t have our movements dictated by your queasiness.’
‘I sometimes wish that locomotives had never been invented.’
‘Then you’d have been out of a job,’ noted Boone. ‘How could you have worked with the famous Railway Detective if there’d been no railways? If you’ll pardon a dreadful pun, they’ve been a great boon to me. Thanks to trains, my men have been able to move around much more quickly.’
‘That cuts both ways,’ said Colbeck. ‘It also means that villains can leave the scene of the crime and be miles away in no time at all.’
‘It’s exactly what happened in this case,’ suggested Peebles, diffidently. ‘Murder was actually committed on the railway, so the two suspects were immediately able to put distance between themselves and their crime. They could be anywhere in the country by now.’
‘Let’s hope that we can find a signpost in Manchester that will point us in the right direction.’
‘You haven’t given us much time,’ said Boone. ‘Besides, we have a large number of other crimes to solve, so I haven’t been able to deploy very many of my men.’
‘That’s why we’re here, Zachary,’ said Colbeck. ‘We’ve come to do some of the legwork and to acquaint Constable Peebles with the joys of being a detective.’
‘I didn’t know there were any,’ muttered Leeming.
‘Let me tell you what we’ve already done,’ volunteered Boone.
Plunging a hand into a small mountain of papers, he drew out one that contained a list of names and addresses in a looping hand. Some of them had ticks against them. He explained that they had already been discounted as a result of visits by his men. All that remained were three names and addresses. He handed the list to Colbeck.
‘We were lucky, Robert,’ he said. ‘There were not all that many people by the name of Adnam. Thank heaven you didn’t ask me to list all the O’Briens or the O’Rourkes. In some of the Irish districts, they could run into the hundreds.’
Colbeck perused the addresses. ‘Where are these places?’
‘Two of them are in relatively safe areas. That’s to say, they’ll try to stab you in the chest rather than in the back, so you’re at least accorded the courtesy of a warning. The third address is in Deansgate. I’d advise anyone against going there on his own.’
‘We can all stay together,’ said Leeming.
‘That would only waste time, Victor,’ decided Colbeck, passing the list to him. ‘Memorise those details, if you will. Then you and the constable can visit two of the addresses while I pay a call on Silas Adnam in Deansgate.’
‘Looking like that, you’d present a tempting target,’ said Boone, appraising the debonair figure of Colbeck. ‘There’s nobody there as refined and elegant as you, Robert. You’d stand out like a hedgehog on a billiard table. Why don’t I assign one of my men to accompany you?’
‘I can manage on my own, thank you. In any case, I won’t be going there in a frock coat and top hat.’ Colbeck patted his valise. ‘I brought a change of clothing for just such a situation.’ He snatched the piece of paper from Leeming’s hands. ‘Off you go, Sergeant. Give me the names and addresses you’ve just memorised.’
Leeming gulped. ‘Well…’
‘I know them, Inspector,’ said Peebles before rattling off the information. ‘I think you’ll find that I’m correct.’
‘I could have told you all that,’ said Leeming, hurt.
‘I’m sure that you could, Victor,’ said Colbeck, ‘but you were fortunate to have the constable to prompt you. I told you that he’d prove his worth when we got to Manchester.’
While Peebles basked in the praise, Leeming smouldered.
Madeleine had always enjoyed her regular visits to the market. It gave her an opportunity to get out of the house and to meet a succession of friends and neighbours. Since she often incorporated a call on her aunt, she was able to keep in touch with another branch of the family as well. As she set off again with a basket over her arm, she knew exactly what to buy and where to buy it. Most of the items on the list were chosen because they were her father’s preferences. A creature of habit, Caleb Andrews was very particular about his food and drink.
Two thoughts suddenly struck her, causing her to check her stride. The first was that she would not be making this pilgrimage indefinitely. What would happen to her father’s larder when she was no longer there to keep it filled? Shopping in the market was largely a chore for women, and not merely because their husbands were usually at work. When it came to meat, fruit and vegetables, they were far more discerning customers and they could also haggle more effectively. On the few occasions when her father had accompanied her, he’d been ready to accept the first price given by individual stallholders. Andrews relied on his daughter to secure the best deal.
How would he cope on his own? They hired a woman to come into the house a couple of days a week to do domestic chores but she could never replace Madeleine at the market.
The second thought was consequent upon the first. When she gave up shopping for her father, would she have to do it for her husband? Because no firm date had been set for the wedding, and because it had seemed to recede every time she raised the issue with Colbeck, she’d never really considered the details of her exact role as a wife. Would she be expected to do all the things she had done for her father? Colbeck had inherited a sizeable house in John Islip Street and had two servants to look after it. Madeleine had never employed full-time servants. Could she delegate the shopping to one of them? It was a moot point.
She had a moment of slight panic when she realised how her existence would be transformed by marriage. There would be so much for her to learn. Yet Colbeck had already brought about many major changes in her life. Until he came into it, she could never have envisaged a relationship with such a highly intelligent member of the middle class. Her father had wanted her to marry another railwayman and it was from his circle of friends that her admirers necessarily came. Colbeck had altered all that. Madeleine had been able to educate herself by means of his extensive library and to improve her talent as an artist so much that her work was now in demand. She had, in more than one sense, emancipated herself from her class. As Mrs Colbeck, she would be a very different person from Miss Andrews.
Her first thought returned with greater urgency and it posed a burning question. When she left home after the marriage, who would look after her father?
Disguise was an established part of Colbeck’s armoury. There were parts of London where he would never dare to venture in his usual attire because it would make him stand out. To merge with the denizens, he had to look as if he belonged. For his visit to Deansgate, therefore, he changed into the rough garb he’d brought with him, wearing a large, battered cap and a pair of old boots. When he entered the district, he even adjusted his walk. Instead of his usual measured gait, he adopted a furtive scuffle. It meant that nobody gave him a second glance.
Having located Adnam’s address, he first went to the nearest pub, reasoning that anyone who lived in such a depressing place would need the support of alcohol. The Eagle and Child was a dark, evil-smelling establishment filled with shabby characters hunched around the rickety tables. For the price of a pint of beer, Colbeck bought the landlord’s attention and gained some useful information about Silas Adnam. One fact was particularly significant.
‘Silas was in here last night,’ said the landlord, ‘drinking himself into a stupor. I reckon his daughter must have been to see him again because he had money to spend.’
‘Do you know the daughter’s name?’ asked Colbeck.
‘Yes — it’s Irene.’
‘Have you ever seen her?’
The landlord shook his head. ‘She’s too good for the likes of us.’
After finishing his drink, Colbeck walked the short distance to the house and banged on the door. He had to pound it again before it was opened. The whiskery face of Silas Adnam confronted him.
‘What do you want?’ he snarled.
‘I’ve come to talk about your daughter.’
‘She’s not here.’
‘I know,’ said Colbeck, ‘but she has been and that means you and I must have a conversation.’
Pushing the door open, he stepped into the house and ignored the protests from the old man. When Colbeck explained who he was, Adnam’s tone became defensive.
‘Irene is a good girl,’ he said. ‘She takes care of me.’
‘Then she might have found you a more comfortable place to live, Mr Adnam. She could certainly afford it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Irene has a lot of money.’
‘No, she doesn’t,’ insisted Adnam. ‘She’s a governess at a big house in London. Part of her wage comes in board and lodging. It takes her some time to save up money for her father.’
‘Why did she come here yesterday?’
‘She wanted to see me, of course.’
‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘but why then of all days?’
Adnam shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’
‘As a matter of fact, it does. How long did she stay?’
‘That’s none of your business, Inspector.’
‘It’s important for me to know.’
‘There’s no law against seeing my daughter, is there?’
‘None at all, sir,’ agreed Colbeck.
‘What happened between us is our affair.’
‘Under any other circumstances, it might be. As it is, the timing and duration of her visit are of considerable interest to me. So — I ask you again — how long was Irene here?’
Adnam refused to answer. In a show of obstinacy, he flopped down onto his stool, folded his arms and turned away. It gave Colbeck the chance to look around the small, fetid room and to assess the value of the man’s few belongings. Adnam had clearly had a far better standard of living at one time. His voice was educated and he bore himself like someone who had once held responsibility. What had caused his fall Colbeck could only guess but it had been a very long and painful one. The man’s agony was etched deep into his face. Had the situation been different, Colbeck would have felt sorry for him. As it was, Adnam was obstructing a murder enquiry. He deserved no mercy.
‘It’s time for us to go, sir,’ ordered Colbeck.
Adnam was flustered. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘If you won’t answer my questions, then I’ll hand you over to Inspector Boone at the police station. He has harsher methods than me and I’m told they always achieve the desired result.’ He took Adnam by the elbow. ‘Come with me, sir.’
‘But I’ve done nothing wrong!’ wailed Adnam.
‘You are impeding the operation of justice, sir.’
‘How am I doing that?’
‘Inspector Boone will explain that to you.’
He lifted Adnam from his stool but the old man shook him off and limped to the corner of the room. Evidently, Boone’s name was known to him and it did not induce confidence. Adnam was like a cornered animal, searching for escape. Colbeck slipped a hand into his pocket and took out some handcuffs.
‘Do I have to take you by force, Mr Adnam?’ he threatened.
‘No, no — please don’t do that!’
‘Then tell me what I want to know.’
‘Irene came here, gave me some money, then she left. That’s all that happened, I swear it.’
‘And how long was she here — an hour, two hours?’
Adnam looked both hunted and humiliated. The kind and caring daughter about whom he’d bragged in the pub the previous night had to be revealed in her true light. He cleared his throat.
‘Irene was here for five or ten minutes,’ he admitted.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’ He pointed to the stool. ‘Why don’t you sit down again so that you can continue this discussion in comfort?’
The visit to the home of Kingsley Adnam was unrewarding. Leeming and Peebles learnt that the man had six sons but no daughters. Nor was there anyone in his wider family answering to the name of Irene. Since the other address they sought was in an adjoining district, they decided to spurn a cab and walk there. After taking directions from a passer-by, the two detectives set off. Unlike Colbeck, they were not in disguise. Leeming was still nursing resentment against Peebles but he tried not to let it show. The Scotsman was inquisitive.
‘Is it true that you’re married, Sergeant?’
‘Yes, I have a wife and two children.’
‘Catherine and I have yet to talk about a family,’ said Peebles. ‘All that we can think about at the moment is the wedding itself. She saved my life, you know.’
‘Did she?’
‘Not that either of us realised it at the time, mark you. It was Catherine who persuaded me to leave the army. Until she and I met, I’d planned to spend my entire career serving my country.’
‘That was very patriotic of you,’ said Leeming, softening towards him. ‘But how was your life saved?’
‘Had I stayed in the army, I’d have joined my regiment in the Crimea and might well have been one of the many casualties we sustained. Sometimes, I feel rather guilty that I escaped death when several of my comrades did not but I’d given my word to Catherine.’
‘Yet you’ve only jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘We, too, have our share of deaths,’ said Leeming. ‘They may not be on the same scale as in the army but they are there. You only have to think of those two policemen from Wolverhampton.’
‘It was an appalling crime. I feel for their families.’
‘It could happen to any us.’
‘I dispute that,’ said Peebles, beaming at him. ‘It could certainly never happen to you or Inspector Colbeck. You have an uncanny insight into people’s characters. It’s the basis of your success. Had that woman in Wolverhampton stepped into a compartment in which you were guarding a prisoner, you and the inspector would have known at once that she was there to aid him.’
Leeming put out his chest. ‘I like to think that we would.’
‘Instinct and experience will always protect you.’
‘They’ve done so this far, Constable.’
‘I’ve convinced Catherine of it. That’s why she was able to accept my decision to join the police.’ Peebles heaved a sigh. ‘I’m counting the days until we get married.’
‘I wish you both joy,’ said Leeming.
He spoke with sincerity. The glimpse into Peebles’ private life had moderated Leeming’s criticism of him. He could not bring himself to like the Scotsman but he was more tolerant of him now. Moreover, the fact that Peebles was about to get married somehow put them on an even footing. Leeming no longer felt old enough to be his father.
They were strolling side by side along a narrow thoroughfare that twisted and turned with serpentine unpredictability. Leeming kept a wary eye on everything and everybody they encountered, anticipating danger whenever they came to a dark alley or saw a gang of youths loitering on a corner. Peebles, meanwhile, was distracted by thoughts of his beloved, imagining how impressed Catherine would be when he told her about his sojourn in Manchester with Inspector Colbeck. Animated by inner excitement, he was completely off guard. When the attack came, therefore, Peebles was unprepared for it.
Ironically, the incident occurred under a railway bridge. Four men who’d been lounging against the wall sprang to life and hurtled out of the shadows to confront them. Their leader had a cudgel and, to show his readiness to use it, knocked off Leeming’s top hat.
‘Hand over your money!’ he demanded. ‘Otherwise-’
He got no further. Leeming’s well-aimed kick hit him in the crotch and made him double up in pain. With one of their attackers disabled, Leeming turned to a second, a burly man with a mane of red hair merging with a tufted red beard. The sergeant landed two heavy punches before the man fought back. Peebles had to deal with the other two men. One tried to grab him from behind so that the other could pummel away at him but the constable quickly frustrated their plan. As the attacker behind him took hold of his arms, Peebles stamped hard on the man’s toe and jerked one elbow back into his stomach. He then smashed his fist into the face of the man in front of him and made blood cascade from his nose. Following up with a series of punches to the body, he sent him reeling then turned to grapple with the man behind him.
Leeming had already robbed his assailant of any wish to continue the fight, catching him with a relay of blows that sent him crashing back against a brick wall. When the man with the cudgel saw what was happening, he barked an order and the four of them slunk off to lick their wounds and to reflect on their folly in choosing the wrong targets. Picking up his hat, Leeming dusted it off.
‘I enjoyed that,’ he said with a grin. ‘It was good exercise.’
‘I just didn’t see them coming,’ admitted Peebles.
‘No matter — you acquitted yourself well. You were obviously taught how to fight in the army.’
‘I’ll be more careful from now on.’
‘I sensed there might be trouble when I saw them lurking there. Since we were outnumbered, they thought we were easy meat.’
Peebles adjusted his coat. ‘You reacted so promptly, Sergeant.’
‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ said Leeming. ‘It’s something that the superintendent keeps drumming into our heads.’ He looked his companion up and down. ‘Did you get hurt?’
‘I’ll have a few bruises, that’s all, but I fancy I inflicted far more damage on them. To be honest, I felt rather cheated that it was over so quickly.’ He looked under the bridge. ‘Is there any point in trying to pursue them?’
‘None at all — they know the backstreets and we don’t. They came off worse, that’s the main thing. It will make them think twice about accosting people in the future.’ He offered his hand. ‘Well done, Constable — and welcome to Manchester!’
Grinning broadly, Peebles shook his hand. The brawl had had one positive result for him. Having fought off his attackers with vigour, he now felt accepted by Leeming. It was a step forward.
Silas Adnam was more interested in talking about himself than about his daughter but Colbeck let him ramble on. The story was a familiar one to the detective. He’d seen any number of instances where a combination of grief and alcohol had brought about a man’s ruin. The wonder was that Adnam had not dragged his daughter down with him. Entering domestic service, Irene had soon shown her mettle and been rewarded with more responsibility. Her father was proud of the fact that she’d been promoted within her first household yet surprised that she’d not stayed there long. In fact, she seemed to change jobs quite often, eventually rising to the position of governess. Adnam spoke about her with an amalgam of smugness and concern, talking in fulsome terms about Irene’s cleverness while worrying that he was so rarely able to see her.
Finally, Colbeck had to shatter the old man’s illusions.
‘Did you know that the police are searching for her?’ he asked.
Adnam blanched. ‘Why on earth should they do that?’
‘Your daughter has committed a series of crimes, sir.’
‘That’s a damnable lie, Inspector! I brought Irene up to respect law and order. There’s not a dishonest bone in her body.’
‘Then I suggest that you talk to Inspector Boone. He has kept a record of her activities in Manchester and the surrounding area. She does not always use her real name, of course, but there’s no doubt that she has had a succession of victims.’
‘Victims?’ repeated the other. ‘How can a harmless, decent, young woman like Irene have victims? She’s a governess with a respectable family in London.’
‘Do you happen to have their name and address?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘That’s probably because these people do not exist.’
‘But they do,’ said Adnam, desperately. ‘How else would Irene have earned that money? I don’t have their address because Irene is forbidden to have any letters sent to her.’
‘Is that what she told you?’
‘Yes — otherwise I’d keep in regular touch with her.’
‘She’s been lying to you, Mr Adnam,’ said Colbeck, levelly.
‘I refuse to believe that!’
Colbeck took a deep breath before recounting details of the escape of Jeremy Oxley. He explained the role played by a female accomplice. He also pointed out that the couple had recently taken part in a robbery in Birmingham. The money that Adnam assumed had been saved by his daughter during her time as a governess had instead been stolen. In short, since her father had received a number of similar payments over the years, he had been living unwittingly on the proceeds of crime.
‘Do you still claim that she works in London?’ asked Colbeck.
Adnam was uncertain. ‘It’s what she told me.’
‘Did you never ask yourself some obvious questions? Why would any daughter take a train all the way to Manchester to see her father, then spend less than ten minutes with him? Why didn’t Irene let you take her to the railway station? Why has she been so secretive all these years? Why does she refuse to give you the addresses of the places at which she pretends to work?’ He stepped in close. ‘It pains me to tell you that Irene Adnam is a thief and a killer. She is working with a man whose criminal record includes violence and murder. It’s your duty to help us to find them.’
Adnam was disconsolate. Pride in what he saw as his daughter’s achievements was the one last source of pleasure in his life. It kept him afloat in the noisome swamp where he lived. Of equal importance was the fact that Irene supplied him — albeit irregularly — with money. At a stroke, the major prop in his grim existence had been cut from under him. There would be no more cash from Irene and no more opportunities to boast about her in the Eagle and Child. In fact, he would never be able to mention her name again. Adnam had refused to believe it at first but Colbeck had been authoritative. The truth was unavoidable. Why else would a Scotland Yard detective take the trouble to come to Deansgate if he did not have irrefutable proof of Irene’s involvement in horrifying crimes? Adnam had fathered a monster. It was too much for him to bear. Bringing his hands up to his face, he let out a roar of pain then began to sob uncontrollably.
‘Let’s start again, shall we?’ suggested Colbeck, gently. ‘I want you to tell me once again what happened when your daughter came to see you. The most insignificant detail may turn out to be useful to us. I need you to rack your brain, Mr Adnam.’
The old man looked up. ‘She’s gone — Irene has gone for ever.’
‘Do you want her to stay free to kill again?’
‘No, no!’ cried Adnam. ‘Perish the thought.’
‘Then help us to catch her and the man with whom she lives.’
Adnam sat up and used a filthy handkerchief to wipe away his tears. He was then in the grip of a fit of coughing that lasted for a couple of minutes. When he recovered, he turned to Colbeck.
‘I’ve lost her, Inspector,’ he said, sorrowfully.
‘I fear that you lost her a long time ago, sir.’
‘It’s like a death. I feel bereft. Irene was all that I had between me and despair.’ He stifled another sob. ‘Have you ever lost a child?’
‘No,’ replied Colbeck, ‘but I once lost someone I loved dearly. It’s the reason this case has a personal dimension for me. However long it takes, I’ll track down Jeremy Oxley and I fully expect to arrest your daughter at the same time.’
The cottage was in a leafy suburb of London. Built centuries earlier, it had a timber frame, small, mullioned windows, a solid oak front door, a thatched, overhanging roof and a well-tended garden at the front and the rear. Ivy covered one side of the facade while the other was ablaze with roses. There was such a sense of rural isolation that Irene could not believe they were actually in the capital city. The moment she set eyes on the house, her ambition was ignited. She wanted to live in such a quaint and captivating place, far away from the industrial centres to which she was accustomed. In addition, Irene yearned for an existence that was free from crime, the kind of quiet, uneventful life that people could expect in an area like this.
Having been told that their host had committed murder, she faced the prospect of meeting him with slight trepidation but it soon evaporated. Gordon Younger was a plump man of middle years with a reassuring smile. His bald head gleamed, his cheeks were red and his goatee beard was his only facial hair. Susanna, his wife, was even more rotund, her clothing carefully tailored to hide some of her contours. She was a poised, educated, middle-class woman who looked as if her natural milieu would have been a country vicarage. Clearly, the Youngers were not short of money. Their cottage was expensively furnished and there were gilt-framed paintings of hunting scenes on the walls.
Astonished to see Oxley after a long absence, they gave him and Irene an effusive welcome. Glad to offer accommodation to the visitors, neither Younger nor his wife asked why they had come to London. They simply accepted that their guests had a need and were happy to fulfil it. What struck Irene about the couple was the pleasure they seemed to take in each other’s company. There was an unforced togetherness about them that she envied. She wondered if she and Oxley would ever be able to achieve something similar. When she was shown up to the guest room by Susanna, she took the opportunity to probe a little.
‘How long have you been here, Mrs Younger?’ she asked.
‘My name is Susanna as long as you’re here,’ said the other, with a hand on her shoulder, ‘and the answer is that we’ve lived here for seven years. Gordon was able to retire early.’
‘What did he retire from?’
‘Medicine — he was a doctor.’
‘It must be idyllic here.’
‘We love it, Irene. Twenty years ago, this was a country village. It’s starting to feel more like a city suburb now but it still has a whiff of a farming community.’ She indicated the window. ‘Watch that low beam when you open the window,’ she warned. ‘There are only two things wrong with this place — low beams and spiders in the thatch.’
‘We can put up with those,’ said Irene with a laugh.
She was wearing a wedding ring but she could see that Susanna was not fooled by it. Only people who’d been married could attain the kind of closeness that the Youngers had of right. Irene felt another pang of envy, hoping that Oxley had the same response. She prayed that the cottage would not simply be a refuge for them but that it would exert a good influence and make Oxley want to emulate their hosts. Irene longed for permanence.
It was not until she and Oxley retired to bed that she was able to talk to him properly. After an excellent meal washed down by a fine wine, he was in a relaxed mood.
‘This is a wonderful place,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been anywhere quite like it. What about you, Jerry?’
‘It’s very comfortable but a little too quiet for my liking.’
‘Gordon and Susanna seem so at home here.’
‘Yes, it’s a big change from Bradford,’ said Oxley. ‘That’s where I first met them.’
‘Why did they leave?’
He laughed. ‘Why did we leave Manchester?’
Irene was curious. ‘Were they wanted by the police?’
‘Gordon certainly was,’ he replied, ‘but he had the sense to plan his escape long before his crimes actually came to light. They are probably still searching for him in Bradford.’
‘Is that where he murdered people?’
He put a finger to his lips. ‘Don’t ever say that in his presence. He doesn’t believe that he murdered anyone. Gordon was a doctor. He took an oath to say that he’d always seek to preserve life. It’s just that he felt there were certain exceptions — people whose existence was so dire and unendurable that they begged him to help them.’
‘You mean that he assisted in their death?’
‘That’s one way of putting it. Gordon felt that he was performing a sacred duty. And, of course, there was a commercial aspect to it.’
‘In what way?’
‘It was a lot to ask of a doctor, Irene. His patients understood that. After he’d sent them painlessly to their deaths, he was rewarded by the provisions of their respective wills. That’s how he came to buy this cottage,’ he went on, taking in the whole building with a sweep of his hand. ‘He and Susanna have retired on the proceeds of his work in Bradford, putting rich old ladies to sleep for the last time.’ He pulled her close. ‘Take heart from what happened to them, my love. It is possible to kill and to live happily ever after.’