Mr. George turned to Frederick. “Let her go, and I will tell you what really happened.”
“Don’t!” Selina called. “There is no use in both of us being destroyed by this.”
George winced. “Bit late for that, lass.”
“Uncle Jack, no. I don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re all I have left.”
“And you’re all I have left. Please. It’s my responsibility. My right.”
Tears glimmered in Selina’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, lips trembling.
Jack George stepped near and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Do you trust me?”
A short while later, Frederick led Mr. George into the small office where he’d conducted his earlier interviews.
“I will tell you all,” he said. “But you must let Selina go.”
“I can make no promises until I hear the truth.”
“You strike me as a fair man, Wilford. So I will trust you. Just you, though, if you please.” He shot the constable a look.
When Brixton opened his mouth to object, Frederick said, “It’s all right. I shall apprise you later. Please keep Miss Newport in custody here in the hotel for now.”
“Yes, sir.”
When the two of them were sitting alone together behind closed doors, Mr. George drew a deep breath and said, “None of this is Selina’s fault, though she blames herself for Edie’s death.”
“Edie was her younger sister?”
“Yes. My best mate’s girls. I was their guardian and raised them after their parents’ deaths.”
“She called you uncle.”
Mr. George waved a dismissive hand. “Term of affection—that’s all.”
Frederick nodded. “Go on.”
“The whole thing started a few years ago. Selina was performing in a theatre in Cheltenham, living in a pair of rooms in a lodging house. Edie begged to go and stay with her sister for a time. Have an adventure. I didn’t like it, but they cajoled and I’ve always been too soft when it comes to those girls. I figured they could look out for each other. But the reality was, Selina worked long hours. The novelty of loitering behind stage soon wore thin, and Edie began spending more time on her own.
“I knew something was wrong as soon as she came home. She was quiet. Tense. Teary. Though I didn’t guess the worst of it for several months when she could no longer hide the fact that she was with child. She was barely more than a child herself. Only sixteen.
“She wouldn’t tell me who the man was. Said she knew I’d kill the lecher and end up hung for it.
“As far as I knew, she didn’t tell her sister either. Yet I could see Selina felt guilty, so I figured Edie must have met the man through her or the theatre.
“For a time, I agreed to let it lie. For Edie’s health and peace of mind. Then she died....”
Jack George shook his head, a bitter twist to his lips. “The midwife couldn’t turn the babe. I ran for a doctor, but by the time I located him and basically dragged him back, it was too late. She’d lost too much blood. Lost the babe as well.”
His voice thickened. “Selina and I were mad with grief. I hadpromised their father to protect his girls, and I failed. I would have gladly given my life for hers if I could.”
Another regretful shake of the head. “After Edie died, I swore to myself I would find out who was responsible and make him pay. Took time, asking around the theatre and the lodging house. Finally, I found a girl who had cleaned for Selina.
“She told me who she thought it was, who used my Edie ill. He talked Edie into letting him into Selina’s place. Said he’d left something, his gloves or some such, although the maid assured him she’d not seen them. He told the maid to leave, and the timid thing obeyed, but not before she heard Edie call the man by name—Mr. Oliver.
“Edie had mentioned in one of her letters home that she’d met the author at the theatre. I’m sure she never imagined he’d show up at her door and refuse to take no for an answer.
“I didn’t tell Selina what I’d learned, didn’t want her involved. I asked around until I learned where Oliver lived. Not far from me, actually. I didn’t strike directly, hoping to keep my neck out of the noose. Instead I slipped a printed notice under his door, advertising my gallery and tailor-made to appeal to his vanity. ‘Men of letters, important, learned gentlemen, deserve to keep their bodies in as fit condition as their minds.’ I also offered a very good price.
