“What about Pansy, then?” Ned Barlow’s heavy-lidded eyes stared at Cecily through the narrow opening. His head almost touched the top of the door frame. With his drooping mustache and stubbled chin, he managed to convey a sinister air that made her quite uncomfortable.
“This isn’t about Pansy, exactly.” Cecily beckoned to Samuel to come closer. “I wonder if I could have a word with you, Mr. Barlow?”
“So what’s it about, then?”
His harsh tone did nothing to ease Cecily’s apprehension. “I’m here to ask about Sid Porter. I believe he was an acquaintance of yours.” She glanced at Samuel, who shook his head fiercely at her.
After a long pause, Ned Barlow muttered, “He weren’t no friend of mine.”
“You are aware, I suppose, that Mr. Porter is dead?”
“I heard he fell down the chimney.”
“Yes, well, someone stabbed him with a knife before he fell.”
“And what’s that supposed to do with me?”
The man’s belligerence unnerved her. What on earth was Pansy thinking to associate with such a man? “I simply wondered if you could help me find out what happened. Perhaps you know of someone who might want to hurt Mr. Porter?”
She waited several seconds for his answer, and then the door opened wider.
“If you’re thinking I was the one that stabbed him, you’re dead wrong.” Ned’s dark eyes glinted in the glow from the gas lamp above his head. “I never touched him.” His gaze switched to Samuel, as if noticing him for the first time, then back to Cecily. “I suppose someone told you about the bust-up I had with him in the pub last week.”
“Someone did mention it to me, yes.” She watched his face. “I understand Mr. Porter helped put you in prison.”
Ned’s expression turned nasty. “He got what he deserved, but I didn’t kill him. I have to admit, I thought about it, but someone got to him first.” He lifted his hand and gingerly touched the tip of his nose as if it pained him to do so. “Can’t say as I’m sorry he’s a goner. The killer did me one big favor as far as I’m concerned.”
Noticing the small round cut on the end of his nose, Cecily wondered if he’d received it during the fight in the bar. At that precise moment, the gas lamp above her spluttered and went out, leaving the hallway in semidarkness. Startled, she looked up, while Samuel’s breath hissed out between his teeth.
“It’s time we went, m’m,” he said, throwing an uneasy glance over his shoulder.
Remembering his talk of ghosts, Cecily felt her spine tingle.
“Dratted lamp. Always going out.” Ned Barlow stepped out into the hallway and looked up at it.
His height intimidated her further, and she took a step backward. She almost tripped over Samuel, who stood too close behind her.
“I’ll have to take a look at it.” Ned’s lean face looked even more menacing in the darkened shadows. “If I wait for the landlord we could all be blown to smithereens.” He reached up to the base of the lamp and began unscrewing it. “Good job I know about these things. Gas can be tricky to play with. Before I went inside I used to install these gas lamps in buildings. Now no one wants me messing with them.”
Her fears began to ease a little. Hoping to learn something useful, Cecily tried to encourage him in conversation. “That must have been quite interesting.”
“Yeah.” He glanced down at her. “They’re coming out with some right fancy lamps nowadays. Like the ones you got in the Pennyfoot Hotel. They didn’t have those kind when I was working with them.”
“Yes, I do agree. They are most elegant.” Out of the corner of her eye Cecily saw Samuel making anxious faces at her. “As I mentioned, Mr. Barlow, I hoped you might know of someone who might have wanted to harm Mr. Porter. Perhaps someone you overheard in the bar of the George and Dragon?”
Ned Barlow lowered his arms. “I don’t know of no one I can put my mind to.”
“Mr. Porter never mentioned anyone he might be concerned about?”
The man’s penetrating gaze bored into hers. “Mrs. Baxter, take my advice. Leave well enough alone. Let the constables worry about who killed Sid Porter. You’ll live longer.”
“We have to go, m’m,” Samuel said, with a quiet note of desperation.
Reluctantly, Cecily thanked the man and descended the dark stairwell, with Samuel hot on her heels. The daylight had faded as she emerged onto the street. Rain spattered on the backs of the horses and dripped from their flanks.
Fastening her scarf more tightly under her chin, Cecily climbed into the trap. She looked forward to getting back to the hotel and the warmth of her sitting room.
“I’ll pull the hood over,” Samuel said, starting for the back of the trap.
“Never mind. It’s already quite wet in here.” Cecily wiped her gloved hand across the seat. “I’m anxious to return to the Pennyfoot and it’s not too far now.”
“Very well, m’m.” Samuel climbed aboard and took up the reins. Within minutes, they had reached the Esplanade and were in sight of the Pennyfoot’s white walls.
The cold, damp folds of Cecily’s skirts slapped around her ankles as she hurried up the steps of the hotel. Philip’s eyes opened wide when he saw her, reminding her that she must look quite a spectacle with her dripping hat and soggy scarf.
She made straight for her suite and pulled off her wet clothes. After dressing again in a warm wool skirt and crisp white blouse, she uncoiled her hair and redressed it.
Satisfied that she at least looked presentable, she dropped her damp clothing into the laundry chute before hurrying down the stairs to her office.
There she rang the bell for a maid, and directed the young girl who answered her to send Pansy to her office. A few minutes later a light tap on the door announced her kitchen maid’s presence.
Pansy seemed nervous, and sat on the very edge of her chair, her hands twisting and tugging the folds of her apron.
“First of all,” Cecily began, feeling more than a little sorry for the child, “I’d like to hear about the ghost you claim to have seen.”
Pansy’s bottom lip trembled, but she managed to sound composed when she answered. “It were a clown, m’m. I saw it up on the top floor. Creeping along, it were. Scared me near to death, it did.”
“What made you think it was a ghost?”
“’Cos one minute it were there, and then it weren’t. It disappeared right before me eyes.”
“I see.” Cecily thought for a minute. “Can you remember exactly when you saw this clown?”
“Yes, m’m. It were yesterday, almost dinnertime. It were after the children left the party to go home. I’d just finished sweeping the dining room and laying the tables, and I was taking the carpet sweeper back to the broom closet. I heard the bells first.”
“Bells?”
“Yes, m’m. The ghost had little bells down the front of its costume, like buttons, only they were bells. Like the ones they have on horses in their harness, only smaller.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“Speak to the ghost? No, m’m, I didn’t.” Pansy shivered. “I didn’t have time to speak to it. I shut me eyes and pinched meself, in case I were dreaming and when I opened me eyes up again, it was gone.”
“He made no sound, other than the bells?”
“No, m’m. I know who it is, though.”
“You recognized him?”
“Well, sort of. I couldn’t tell what it looked like, what with all that paint on its face, but I know it were Sid Porter, what got himself killed yesterday.”
Cecily stared at the child. In heaven’s name with what sort of people had she been keeping company? “You were acquainted with Mr. Porter?”
“Oh, no, m’m. Not me.” Pansy shook her head. “But I know he used to be a clown because me boyfriend told me. And all these things what have been moving around, well, it’s the ghost what’s doing it. It’s Sid Porter, trying to tell us who killed him, I know it is.”
Cecily lifted her chin. After the distraction of talking with the unpleasant Ned Barlow, she’d forgotten about the incident with the cumbersome plant. “Ah, yes, I believe Samuel mentioned something about the aspidistra being found in Mrs. Chubb’s room.”
“It were in her bed, m’m.”
“And she has no idea who put it there?”
“I told you, m’m. It were the ghost. Nobody else could have picked it up and put it there. Even if he could have carried it all that way, we would have seen him go past the kitchen.”
Cecily had to admit the feat would have been difficult, if not impossible.
“That’s not all of it, m’m, neither.” Pansy paused, then added in a rush, “There’s Michel’s knife what was stuck in the ceiling, and now the carpet sweeper’s gone and—”
“Carpet sweeper?” Cecily shook her head. “This is ridiculous. There has to be a simple explanation. Have you searched the hotel?”
“Yes, m’m. Me and the other maids looked all over.” Pansy seemed as if any minute she would burst into tears. “The last I seen of it, it were on the top floor landing. I left it there when I ran away from the ghost. Now it’s gone. I tell you, m’m. It were the ghost what took it.”
“Well,” Cecily said briskly, “we shall just have to hunt him down and make him cease disrupting everything. We have a hotel to run and Christmas festivities to organize and we simply cannot have a ghost running amok among us.”
“No, m’m. I mean, yes, m’m.”
Without warning, the door behind Pansy opened, and she shot off her chair with a little shriek.
Baxter appeared in the doorway, looking rather put out. “What on earth?”
“Sorry, sir.” Pansy fled past him and out the door, leaving him staring after her.
“Darling!” Cecily rose and hurried over to him, her hands outstretched in welcome. “You’re home early. How nice!”
“I couldn’t concentrate with this blasted murder hanging over us.” Baxter jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “What’s the matter with Pansy?”
“She’s been seeing ghosts.” In spite of her anxiety, Cecily had to smile at his expression. “Come and sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”
He pulled her to him and placed a warm kiss on her cheek. “I’m not going back to the city until after this matter is settled. I don’t like the idea of you being here alone with a possible murderer hanging around. You’re far too fond of running off somewhere dangerous and getting into trouble.”
He waited for her to sit down then pulled a chair up next to her. “Now tell me what all this nonsense is about a ghost.”
Cecily sighed. “I don’t know if any of this has anything to do with Sid Porter’s murder, but I have to admit, I’m baffled by everything that’s happened.”
Baxter’s face turned wary. “I have a feeling this isn’t exactly going to lighten my day.”
Quickly she repeated everything Pansy had told her. “It’s my guess we have an intruder in the hotel. Dressed as a clown for some strange reason.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear you don’t believe in the ghost theory.” Baxter leaned back with a frown. “Am I right in thinking you believe this clown fellow is the person who killed Sid Porter?”
“I think it’s entirely possible. Though why he went to all the trouble of moving an aspidistra and stealing a carpet sweeper I can’t imagine.”
“He must have muscles the size of mountains,” Baxter said wryly. “I’d like to know how he moved that plant. It takes three of the maids just to slide it out of the corner.”
“Very strange.” Cecily thought for a moment. “There’s something else I should tell you. Samuel and I went to see Bernie Milligan this afternoon.”
She’d braced herself for Baxter’s scowl. Even so, she winced when his gray eyes turned icy. “How many times have I told you not to go to the George and Dragon without me? You know how I feel about it. It just isn’t fitting for a lady to visit a public house unescorted.”
“I was escorted. Samuel came with me.”
“A stable manager.”
“A very capable stable manager.”
“Who deliberately ignores my wishes.”
“It wasn’t Samuel’s fault. I ordered him to take me.”
Baxter sighed. “I wish you could understand how much I worry about you and your penchant for plunging into unfortunate situations.”
She leaned forward and patted his knee. “I do know, Bax. I appreciate your concern, really I do. You know I would not take any unnecessary risks.”
“No, I do not know that. You have done so in the past.”
“And learned my lesson.”
To her relief, his face smoothed out. “Well, did you learn anything useful from your ill-advised trip?”
“When I asked Mr. Milligan if he knew anyone who might have reason to harm Sid Porter, he mentioned a man by the name of Ned Barlow, a rather nasty fellow who just happens to be keeping company with Pansy.”
Baxter raised his eyebrows. “A coincidence?”
“I certainly hope so, for Pansy’s sake.” Cecily hesitated, then added slowly, “I don’t think she should be involved with a man like that. He’s been in prison, for one thing, though I don’t know what he did. He’s a big man with fierce black eyes, and quite menacing.”
Baxter wrinkled his brow. “Just how did you make the acquaintance of this man?”
“Samuel and I paid him a visit.” She saw his lips tighten and added quickly, “We were perfectly safe. He lives above the ironmonger’s shop—”
“Cecily! I absolutely forbid you to pay any more visits to these disreputable reprobates. I am appalled that Samuel allowed this to happen. I shall have a stern word with him at the earliest opportunity.”
She lifted her chin. “May I remind you, as I have so often before, that you are in no position to forbid me to do anything. As for Samuel, he followed my orders, as any loyal and competent servant should. And I must insist that you say nothing to him about this.”
Ice formed in Baxter’s eyes as he answered quietly, “It seems, then, that we are at an impasse. My objections remain. Just keep in mind that your safety is my primary concern.”
She melted at once. “I’m so sorry, darling. I know how you hate my little adventures, but you must learn to trust me more. I am quite capable of using caution when necessary.”
Baxter tilted his face at the ceiling. “Where have I heard those sentiments before?”
She pulled a wry face. “You worry far too much.”
“And you not enough. The price I have to pay, I suppose, for marrying such a willful and disobedient wife.”
“You would not have it any other way.” She reached for his hand. “Go on. Admit it.”
To her relief, his face relaxed in a reluctant smile. “Well, tell me, then, what did this blackguard have to say? I don’t suppose he actually admitted to murdering our Father Christmas.”
“Of course not. Though he did admit to considering it.” She frowned. “I must ask Pansy about him.”
“I hardly think it’s our place to advise the young lady on her choice of beaus.”
“What? Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Though I do think I should warn her of the consequences of being seen in public with such an unsavory character. But more than that, there’s something else I need to know.”
“And that is?”
“Mr. Barlow mentioned our new lamps in the hallway. I don’t know how long he was incarcerated, but since they were installed early this year, and Mr. Barlow was released from prison just a few days ago, I wondered how he could have seen them.”
“Perhaps Pansy invited him to visit her here.”
“That’s what I need to ask her.”
Baxter’s expression changed. “I see what you mean. If he has been in the hotel during the last few days, and if it wasn’t at Pansy’s invitation…”
“Then we need to know the reason for his visit.”
“I do hate to keep harping on this subject, but do, please be careful, Cecily. We’re dealing with a cold-blooded killer who apparently took a knife up to our roof with the intention of stabbing a man to death. Not the kind of person I care to trust with my wife.”
“I will use the utmost caution, darling. I promise.”
“Thank you.” He rose. “Now, perhaps, we can enjoy an early dinner in our suite for once.
She took his hand and stood with him. “I shall love that. It has been awhile since we’ve had a leisurely evening. It will be our last, for a time, I’m afraid. The rehearsals for the variety show are being held all day tomorrow since the performance takes place tomorrow night, and the following night the village carolers will be here to entertain us.”
“And the night after that is Christmas Eve and the ceremony in the library.” Baxter rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “We shall just have to make the most of our evening alone, my dear.”
“I heartily agree.” She led him to the door. “I’ll just have a word with Pansy and then I shall join you upstairs.”
He planted a kiss on her lips. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, my love.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can be.” She walked with him as far as the stairs, then left him and hurried to the kitchen. Dinner preparations were under way, and maids darted to and fro in response to Mrs. Chubb’s sharp orders.
Above the din of clattering dishes, raised voices, and Michel’s tuneless singing, Cecily managed to attract Pansy’s attention. The young girl scurried over to the door, her face creased with worry.
Shutting out the tantalizing aroma of roasting beef, Cecily closed the door and led Pansy a little way down the hall. “I understand you are acquainted with a man by the name of Ned Barlow?” she asked without preamble.
Pansy’s eyebrows shot up. “Who told you that, m’m? It were Samuel, weren’t it. I knew I shouldn’t have said nothing to him. He wanted to ask me out, so I told him about Ned.” She looked up anxiously into Cecily’s face. “Why? Has something happened to him?”
Cecily suppressed the urge to warn the child to stay away from the man. “I just want to know if he’s been here to see you, that’s all.”
“Here? In the hotel? Oh, no, m’m. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t have him in my room. That’s against the rules, it is. I’d never do that.”
Aware that the maid was becoming upset, Cecily hastened to reassure her. “It’s quite all right, Pansy. I simply thought you might have invited him over to show him the hotel, that’s all.”
“No, m’m.” Pansy shook her head. “I only met Ned a week or so ago when a bunch of us were talking outside the George and Dragon. He walked me home. I’ve met him twice on the Esplanade, just for a walk and a laugh, but I don’t know him well enough to invite him over here.”
“I see.” Cecily paused, then added, “You are aware that he’s just been released from prison?”
Pansy’s eyes widened with shock. “Prison, m’m? No, I didn’t know that. What he’d do?”
“I really couldn’t say. Maybe you should ask him.”
Pansy shook her head. “I can’t believe it. He seemed so nice and everything. He made me laugh, and he bought me flowers. Nobody’s ever bought me flowers before.” She gave Cecily a wistful look. “Are you sure, m’m, that he was in prison?”
Cecily put an arm about the girl’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Pansy. Maybe you should think about accepting Samuel’s invitation. He’s a very nice young man, you know.”
Pansy pouted. “But he’s not exciting like Ned.”
Why was it, Cecily wondered, that young girls were attracted to the wrong kind of men? That excitement they craved was often their undoing. She could hardly accuse the man of murder without any kind of proof, yet she dreaded the thought of this innocent young woman endangering herself by being in the company of a possible killer.
“Well, now that you know the truth about him,” she said, “I hope you will think long and hard before you agree to meet him again.”
“Oh, I will, m’m. You can be sure of that.”
She would have to be satisfied with that, Cecily told herself as she made her way upstairs. Vowing to do everything she could to hunt down Sid Porter’s killer as soon as possible, she headed for her suite to join her husband.
Just before she reached the door she heard someone call out, “Madam?” Turning her head, she saw Gertie hurrying up the stairs toward her.
Panting and holding her middle, Gertie gasped out, “Oh, I’m so glad I caught you, m’m. Pansy just told me something and I thought you should know about it.”
Cecily waited, fully expecting Gertie to tell her she’d heard that Pansy’s boyfriend had been in prison.
Instead, she was taken aback when Gertie blurted out, “It’s that Mr. Atkins. In room eleven. Pansy heard him having a big argument with Sid Porter the other day.”
“Mr. Atkins? Is she certain?”
“Yes, m’m. She said that Sid Porter had gone up to the top floor with Mrs. Fortescue. She took him up on the roof to look at the chimney. Anyway, she left him up there and Mr. Atkins came along and they had this really big argument. Pansy heard it all. I thought you should know about it, seeing as how Sid got killed.”
Cecily managed to cover her surprise with a smile. “Did Pansy say what the argument was about?”
“No, m’m. I didn’t ask her that. She were worrying about the carpet sweeper being missing and I told her to go and look for it.”
“Well, I’m sure it was nothing, but I’ll mention it to the constable when he returns. You did the right thing, Gertie. Thank you for telling me.”
Gertie beamed at her. “Yes, m’m. I have to run, or Mrs. Chubb’ll be breathing down my blooming neck.”
Cecily watched her chief housemaid charge back down the stairs in her usual unladylike manner. The news she’d just heard disturbed her. She couldn’t imagine how Desmond Atkins could be acquainted with Sid Porter, much less have a reason to argue with him.
She might have put it down to a chance encounter and Mr. Atkins’s usual display of short temper, had it not been for where the two men had met.
Given that her cantankerous guest had such an aversion to climbing stairs, he must have had a compelling reason to be on the top floor. If that reason was Sid Porter, she would give a great deal to know exactly what the argument was about.
It was unlikely he would be willing to divulge that information to her. On the other hand, if she could manage to approach his wife alone, she might just find out more about his relationship with the dead man.
Until then, she had a husband waiting for her, and an evening to enjoy. Nothing would be allowed to interfere with that.