“Mrs. Stonefield says that he goes to visit his twin brother, Caleb,” Monk continued, “who she says is of a totally different nature, and both hates him and is uncontrollably jealous. She believes that he may have murdered her husband.” He watched Ravensbrook's face intensely. He saw a fear cross it, and deep distress. He could not believe it was feigned.
“I deeply regret having to admit, Mr. Monk, that that is so. I have no reason to believe there is any other cause which takes Angus to the slums of the dockside. I have long begged him to desist, and leave Caleb to his own devices. It is quite futile to hope to change him. He hates Angus for his success, but he has no wish to be like him, only to have the profits of his labor. Angus's affection and loyalty towards him is in no way returned.” He drew in his breath and let it out in a slow sigh. “But there is something in Angus which will not let go.”
It was a painful subject. It must be especially bitter for a man who had watched the two brothers since childhood, but he did not equivocate or make excuses, and Monk admired him for that. It must have taken an iron self- discipline not to indulge in anger or a sense of injustice now.
“Do you believe Mrs. Stonefield is right, and Caleb could have killed Angus, either intentionally or by accident in a struggle?”
Ravensbrook met his eyes with a long, level stare.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I am afraid I believe it is possible.” His lips tightened. “Of course, I should prefer to think it is an accident, but murder is also believable. I am sorry, Mr. Monk. It is a bitter case we have given you, and one which may take you into some personal danger. You will not catch Caleb easily.” There was a harsh twist of his mouth, less than a smile. “Nor will you easily prove what has happened. Whatever help I can be, you have but to call upon me.”