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Kerrigan blinked, looking crestfallen. “I didn’t know, Miss Poole, that anything was amiss.” His voice had softened, taken on an emotional rasp. “I thought perhaps she had decided to take my advice after all, or perhaps she had fallen ill. If I had known, of course I would have…” He shook his head, then reached up to lift his spectacles and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I was a fool. I assumed she was at home, and now I am left to wonder what became of the poor girl.” Kerrigan lifted his glass and drained it. “I struggle to take myself into my office now and do the work that must be done. I have been urged to place an advert seeking another assistant after the loss of Calliope…er, Miss Collier. But it is unthinkable to me that she will never return, that Iris might not return.”

He sniffed and lowered his gaze. “I tell myself I must go in because Iris could turn up any day. As if she would come back to work and not return to her family, who I know she valued above all things. They must be distraught. I have sent notes to Roger, offered to visit, but our friendship has cooled. Perhaps he blames me.”

“Why would he do that?” Electra asked, though she realized she had pressed him because some part of her wished he had been more protective of the young women in his charge. It was perhaps unfair.

Kerrigan shifted in his chair to face her. “Roger did not want her to take on the cataloging project. He wanted his girls to marry, to find happiness with families of their own. And I do not think he approved of Miss Collier and her friendship with Iris.”

“What did he dislike about Miss Collier?” Electra felt she knew the answer based on their interview with the Delacourts, but she was curious how Kerrigan saw the matter.

“Calliope Collier was rather free-spirited and untamed. Free with her affections, but she was intelligent and curious. There was a light in her that shone quite brightly. An intrepid young woman is how I would sum her up. Though I think Roger feared she would be a corrupting influence in Iris’s life.”

“Was she?” Gideon asked.

Kerrigan frowned, then shook his head. “I do not think Calliope ever meant Iris any harm whatsoever. Perhaps she encouraged Iris to socialize a bit more. The Delacourt girls have always been quite sheltered. But true corruption? Not that I am aware of, no.” He fiddled with the edge of the chair’s arm and asked Gideon, “Is there some connection, do you think, between what happened to poor Miss Collier and Miss Delacourt’s disappearance?”

“We are investigating that very possibility, Mr. Kerrigan. Both young ladies were apparently headed into their work at the museum and yet vanished before they arrived. Do you think there is a connection?”

“Oh, I cannot know such a thing, can I? One’s mind goes there, of course. Seems too great a coincidence.”

“What do you know about a man by the name of Nicholas Frye?”

Kerrigan’s mouth tightened into a twisted grimace.

Electra sensed his emotions for the first time since entering the room; anger, as hot as the flickering coals in the fire grate, seemed to shimmer around him.

“A scoundrel,” he spat out. “A ne’er-do-well. Not at all an upstanding young man, and I would call him a conniving one. He had a superficial charm naive ladies found enticing.”

“Naive ladies like Miss Collier?”

Kerrigan’s dark eyes narrowed. “I did not consider her naive, but that curiosity I spoke of may have led her astray. He was bold. Overconfident. And I know that he had taken a liking to Miss Collier. For a bit, it seemed she might reciprocate that liking, but they had an altercation. She confided to me her belief he had stolen something from the museum’s collection of Roman coins. The blackguard had made the claim quite boldly, apparently.”

“And what did you do?”

“I asked the Keeper of Greek and Roman Antiquities to conduct an audit and determine whether any coins were missing. He did so with alacrity and assured me none were. But I still confronted Mr. Frye for the boast, and the cretin denied any kind of wrongdoing. Still, he left the museum soon after. Abandoned his post without a word.”

“Did you know he threatened Miss Collier?”

“Oh, yes,” Kerrigan sneered. “She told me as soon as he did so. And I had a word with him then as well. A pathetic coward of a man to dare frighten a young woman.”

“But you went to the other Keeper,” Gideon pointed out. “Would Frye not know that Miss Collier had told someone about his claim and thereby endangered his employment?”

“I was discreet, of course, Inspector, never wishing to endanger Miss Collier.”

His expression had softened, but Electra still sensed the rage wafting off him. He did not simply dislike Nicholas Frye. He hated the young man. Or at least Electra assumed that was where the man’s anger was directed.

“When you heard about Miss Collier’s death, did you not worry that Mr. Frye might have harmed her?”

Kerrigan shook his head, then frowned. “I must say I did not. The man had boasted about a theft which it seemed he had not committed. And then he left of his own accord. He seemed much more bluster than bite.”

He turned and held Gideon’s gaze. “Are you telling me Frye harmed her, Inspector?”

“No, I cannot say that. But he was heard threatening her.”

“That he did.” Kerrigan pressed a hand to his chest. “Good God. Was I remiss in letting him off with nothing more than stern words?” His eyes had gone wide. “Could he have done this to her?”

“I will discover whether he was involved.”