Part 22 (2/2)

'Mr Himple's studio is over the road.'

It took him an instant to guess what that meant. 'You don't see his models?'

'I hardly pry into my employer's business.'

'I didn't mean to suggest that. You might have seen her, I meant.'

She handed the drawing back. Denton waited; nothing came. He said, 'When will Mr Himple be back?'

'Mr Himple has gone abroad.'

'Ah. For how long?'

'I'm sure I don't know. He made arrangements that would allow him to make an extended journey. You would do best to write to him, perhaps. Or not.'

'I did. May I ask when he left?'

'Some time ago.'

'When?'

She enjoyed being a dog in the manger of information. No amount of niceness was going to get it out of her. Denton bore down, gave as good as he got, showed in a changed voice that he could be just as stern as she. Reluctantly, she admitted that Himple had gone some time ago, then that he had gone in August, then that he had left on 9 August.

One day after Mary Thomason had written to ask for help. Denton felt himself coming out of his end-of-book daze. 'Did he go alone?'

She got her back up at that: what did he mean? What was he suggesting? She would have to ask him to leave if he was going to make insinuations.

Denton produced the drawing again. She said, 'He would hardly travel with a young lady!'

'Did he travel with anybody at all?'

'His man, of course.' She glanced down at the drawing, looked out of a window, said in a different voice, one for the first time suggesting - was it disapproval? Or some personal hurt? 'A man. A servant, I mean.'

Denton had to figure this through - his man but apparently not his man, a a man - and he said, 'Not his regular man?' man - and he said, 'Not his regular man?'

Again, she didn't look at him, spoke in the same aggrieved voice. 'He wanted someone who could speak French.'

'His regular man didn't speak French?'

'Brown does not speak French.'

'Brown is his regular man? Can I speak with Brown?'

'Brown lives in Strand-on-the Green. He comes in once a week to tend to the studio and do the pictures.' Denton had no idea what this meant; it didn't matter. She said, 'Mr Himple made an arrangement with Brown for his absence - until he returns.' She looked again at the drawing. Her expression was even more severe.

'You didn't approve of the man he took with him.'

'It's hardly my business to approve of my employer's judgement.'

'I thought perhaps you didn't like the new man.'

'I hardly knew him.' She looked yet again at the drawing.

'You recognize the drawing, don't you.'

She handed it back. The edge of the paper vibrated; her hand was trembling. Looking at her again, Denton felt a sudden sympathy, had a glimpse into her life and its isolation, probably its loneliness. He said, 'Did the new man look like the woman's face in the drawing? '

She sat very straight. 'I believe he resembles the face in the corner, at least.'

'Lazarus.'

She was silent. Her head may have trembled; maybe he was wrong. He said, 'Have you seen the painting?'

'Mr Himple kindly invited me to the studio to see it before it went to the Academy.'

'Do you think the ”new man” who went abroad with him was the model for Lazarus?'

'I - thought that might be so when I saw the painting. It was not my business.' She looked at him. 'Nor yours, sir.'

'I think the man who modelled Lazarus may be the brother of the missing girl. He may know where she is. Mrs Evans, this is quite important. I want to get in touch with the young man.'

'You may write a letter, I'm sure.'

'Where are they?'

She licked her thin, dark lips. 'Brown - Mr Himple's regular valet - is in touch with him. If I have anything to report about the house, I do it through Brown.' She smoothed her dress; her fingers plucked at a square inch of fabric as if she saw something on it. 'I had an address for him at the beginning, but it was only a poste restante. They're long gone from there, so Brown says.' Through tone alone, she made it clear that a housekeeper should not have to communicate with her employer through a valet.

'Where?'

'I've told you, I don't know!' As if she regretted her sharpness, she said, 'They spent the first month painting in France, a village, Hinon. In Normandy. They were supposed to spend the summer there, but he changed his mind. Quite an unspoiled spot, Mr Himple said. That's why he wanted a French speaker. But he moved on.' Her expression changed, suggested malicious pleasure. 'Perhaps it was too unspoiled.'

'The ”new man”, too?'

'I a.s.sume so. Although-' The expression, malicious, almost a smile, touched her mouth. 'Brown said Mr Himple has discharged him.'

'Why?'

'I have no idea.'

'When?'

'I don't remember. The end of summer, perhaps.'

'Then writing to him care of Mr Himple wouldn't reach him.'

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