Page 1 of Evidence of Evil
Chapter One
Solomon Grey hadleased a pleasant house behind the Strand, from where, impenetrable fog permitting, he could look out and see the bustling River Thames. It was not a fashionable address, but he did not entertain, and it was located within easy distance of his main office and the charities that took up the rest of his time.
At eleven o’clock on a sunny September morning, Solomon sat in his large study, which was also his sitting room, a map of the world spread open before him on the table by the window. The wicked delight of truancy that had assailed him during his first day away from the office had lost its charm. Today, he felt restless, and the notion had come to him that he might like to travel purely for pleasure, merely to appreciate the art and architecture of the world’s capitals, and the beauty of unfamiliar scenery.
When he heard the knock on the street door below, he paid no attention—he had a servant to repel boarders—until his study door opened and Jenks, his manservant, announced, “Mrs. Silver, sir. I believe she has an appointment with you.”
Solomon started to his feet. Since he had quite expected to be alone, he had not troubled to don coat or necktie, so he was hardly fit to receive visitors. Moreover, he doubted he would ever be fit to receive this particular visitor.
Constance Silver glided into the room behind Jenks, a breathtaking blast of beauty and fresh air.
“Solomon,” she said affectionately, holding out both gloved hands as she sailed toward him. “How delightful to see you again!”
She was right, damn her. It was delightful, only surprise held him speechless and distinctly disadvantaged. This was not how he had planned to meet her again.
“Will that be all, sir?” inquired Jenks, who must have at least suspected that Constance had no appointment, but had clearly decided his master deserved this treat.
“Yes,” Solomon said, unaccountably flustered, for he had no choice but to take Mrs. Silver’s hands in a brief hold and give a very sketchy bow. “No. Tea, if you please.”
“Goodness,” Constance murmured as Jenks departed. “All this and hospitality, too. How are you, Solomon?”
For an instant, her eyes searched his face, and he realized this was the first time since her arriving that she had actually looked at him directly. She was not as confident in her welcome as she had appeared, and he had the flattering idea that she did actually care how he was.
He found his voice. “Flabbergasted,” he said. “How on earth did you find me?”
“Oh, it’s easy enough to find anyone if you know the right people,” she said vaguely. “I did try at your St. Catherine’s office, but they told me you were not expected there, so here I am.”
“Please, sit down.” He indicated the more comfortable chairs by the fire, but she had moved to the table and his map.
“Are you planning a trip?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Just thinking? Then you don’t sail within the next fortnight?”
“I don’t need to. Why?”
“I have a proposition for you.” Her eyes danced, and he knew she was teasing him with her choice of words but inviting him to share the joke.
Was that relief flooding through his veins? That the odd friendship they had found still existed, despite their not seeing each other for almost three months.
“Should I apologize for lying to your servant?” she asked, disposing herself gracefully in an armchair.
“Probably. You could just have sent up your card. I would have received you in more formal attire.”
She eyed him. “Please. We both know he would not have let me in.”
“He did let you in. I’m not quite sure why, since I doubt he believes in your appointment any more than I do.”
“He probably thinks you are too isolated. Why aren’t you going to work, Solomon?”
“I am perfecting the art of delegation.”
“So that you can travel with a clear conscience?”
“Something like that.”
A smile flickered across her long lips with their extra-fascinating upward curve. “You are bored.”
