To my surprise and embarrassment, Davies suggested I might like to be present when the safe was opened. To my even greater surprise, another police officer was already leaning against the safe when I arrived.
‘My elusive Cousin, Sergeant Reece. I brought him in the back way, with a bit of help from Mrs Simpkiss,’ Davies said. ‘And this, Geraint, is Colonel Rowsley’s cousin, Mr Matthew Rowsley. He’s become my right-hand man, and surely will become yours. He’s been sworn in as Special Constable. As has his wife,’ he added uneasily.
Reece, a man in his late thirties, shook my hand firmly. If I had any expectations at all, he met few of them. Five or six or seven inches shorter than Davies, he was stocky, confident and appeared more than happy to take charge. His accent was different – it would have been hard to place his origin. I reserved judgement.
‘Surely my wife should be here, Sergeant Reece – she has worked so hard to bring all this about.’ I pointed to the still-locked safe, which the three of us were staring at as if it might produce a magic image of its contents. ‘Furthermore, although thanks to your cousin we have moved to a different room, I do not think she should be left unprotected.’
Sergeant Reece nodded sagely. But his eyes twinkled as he said, ‘As it happens, Mr Rowsley, I happen to agree with that. What I ought to do is send you up to defend her. On the other hand, that might involve you in criminal violence, perhaps worse, if you have to fend people off. So I shall tell my superiors that it was in the interests of witness safety, not to mention Law and Order, that I ordered her to be escorted down here.’ He smiled and nodded at Davies.
‘Right you are, Geraint! Sergeant!’ He saluted impeccably and headed out.
Now Reece was opening his notebook. ‘Is there anything you and Morgan might have missed when you were telling me what you’ve done so far?’
‘Ah. One thing. When my wife consulted Dr Highworth about the bruising on her head, she was able to deduce that my cousin, the Colonel, takes laudanum for his various afflictions.’
‘I like the way you put that, sir. And what do you deduce from the information?’
‘I wondered if it might account for his inconsistent behaviour. For the way he forgets to do things he has undertaken to do. I also wonder if his need for the drug might put him at the mercy of other people who know his need.’
He looked at me shrewdly. ‘Are you hinting at blackmail, Mr Rowsley? In connection with the strange cricket match my cousin has told me about?’
‘I wish he could have been there. Yes, everyone involved believed that Major Jameson was pulling Barrington’s strings. And there is plenty of evidence that Jameson is a truly unpleasant individual. I would love him to be punished for something, and blackmail is as good as anything – because to be truthful I do not know why he should want – need! – to kill either victim.’
‘Who might need to kill Gräfin Weiser? That’s a strong word, but I suspect you chose it with care. Someone might need to kill her if they owed her money at cards? So let us double-check all the papers your wife and Mrs Simpkiss retrieved. Otherwise I shall have to put the Colonel on oath to identify all the signatures – believe me I will, if I need to. Here.’ He passed me a magnifying glass and donned a pair of spectacles. ‘One name before they come down! A challenge! Look, could that be GD?’
‘It could. Or OD? But it could be CD – a man whose first name might Clarence; certainly his surname is Digby. He’s a civil servant. Was. Heavens, where did a civil servant find two hundred guineas to lose in the first place?’
‘Where indeed?’ he asked grimly.
‘If it is indeed Mr Digby, I am astonished and appalled in equal measure. He’s the last person … He spoke up against the incarceration of the maid someone told us had killed the Gräfin. He stands for Empire and Justice and … Physically he is a big man, tragically stricken with deafness, who infuriates Harriet by smoking cigars in the library. But it’s not just the chance of fire that worries her: some valuable books have been removed, as I’m sure Morgan has told you. We fear there’s some plot to allege that she has stolen them. One of the servants has already suggested she – er – scarper.’
‘Someone thinks she knows too much. And so it’s not so much cherchez la femme as cherchez les livres!’
I gaped. I realized too late how rude I was being. Fortunately the sergeant looked amused.
‘Ah, I may be Morgan’s cousin but I had huge advantages he was denied. Huge. My other uncle was the Dean of Worcester Cathedral, close friends with the Bishop. He intended me for great things. Benignly, the Bishop paid for me to be educated at the same school as his sons – until there was a major theological falling out between the two men and it came to pass that I had to earn my living. And I can’t complain, Rowsley: I become the inspector in Worcester next month. Yes, I’m sure strings were pulled. Why else should I be moved from the Herefordshire Constabulary? But God moves in mysterious ways: perhaps this is the Almighty’s way of making up for the destruction of my dreams of university.’
‘What a waste!’ I began.
‘I thought it was. Now I see things differently. People like you and I, we are going to become more important, you know, than these idle folk. You run an estate; your wife runs a house big enough, I gather, to swamp this – you deserve to stand alongside me as the equals of those who never work, our so-called superiors. If I had my way I would do away with all these expensive schools – why should some boys have better education than others? Look at Morgan – and don’t tell me that without all my advantages he deserves to do as well as I! Every boy deserves the same chance.’
‘Why stop at boys? Do not girls deserve such chances?’ came a familiar voice.
‘Mrs Rowsley! It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Geraint Reece at your service.’ He kissed Harriet’s hand, clearly disconcerting but not displeasing her. Davies gawped. ‘I would educate everyone in the same schools,’ Reece continued smoothly, ‘and at the same universities, taking the same degrees in whatever subject they choose. But don’t tell my uncle that, Rowsley! First, thank you both for all you have done. And now I ask you to do some more. We believe we may have deciphered more initials. Can you help with just a few?’
‘I have already done my best,’ she said.
‘One more push. Do you think – here – might this be an R?’
‘I wondered that myself,’ she said doubtfully. ‘But the guest list showed no Rs. Sergeant Reece, one lady who has been truly gracious to me has been Lady Pidgeon—’
‘With a D,’ Davies added.
‘—And I fear that that may be a P with a slight blot on it. She saved my life once, almost literally, but she was very evasive on the subject of cards and gambling. Her poor husband walks and stands and drinks but …’ She shook her head sadly. Straightening her shoulders, she checked her watch. ‘Sergeant, you may need not just the key in Constable Davies’ possession but also Mrs Simpkiss’ key – and she is likely to be otherwise engaged very soon. Surely these papers can wait.’
‘Indeed, let us summon Mrs Simpkiss and her key and whisper, “Open sesame!”’
The great skirts of the two women, Mrs Simpkiss perhaps overawed by Reece, concealed whatever it was that had made them gasp in unison.
Unsurprisingly Harriet moved first, presenting Morgan with a fine gold casket, about twice the size of a house brick, though infinitely more beautiful. ‘Do you think that little key we found would fit this?’
Davies presented the key with more of a fumble than a flourish, but waited in silence while she opened her find.
‘My God! Sorry, Lord,’ he interrupted himself. ‘Have you ever seen so many guineas?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘Especially in such a pretty box.’ Making an almost visible effort, he asked gravely, ‘Does that strike you as something a butler would own? Mrs Simpkiss, you knew him better than anyone, I should imagine. What do you think?
She shook her head, not sure perhaps to whom she should address her answer. She settled for Reece. ‘If you asked me who owned that, I’d say the Gräfin. But since when did guests start stowing things in the house-plate safe? How could she do that without my knowing? Oh, of course – it must have been inside her jewel box, which I do recall being locked in here. No, I don’t know why. All my staff are as honest as the day is long! And the footmen,’ she added in what sounded like a rather defensive afterthought.
Reece was more interested in an obvious fact. ‘There’s no sign of a jewel box now. Nor of any gaps where it might have been.’ As the women stepped aside, he peered in every corner. ‘Just silver-gilt tableware. Ah. Look, this elegant epergne must be a Matthew Boulton piece. Now, if that were solid, no one could lift it, so my guess is that it’s hollow. Yes.’ He lifted it down and, having carefully removed the centrepiece, tipped it on its side. ‘Would the jewel box have fitted in that, Mrs Simpkiss?’
‘Easily, for all it was big. Not there now though, is it?’
‘We think someone put it in the bridge that got washed away,’ Davies said.
‘Why on earth would someone put … Ah. I see what you mean, young Morgan. Tip it a bit further, can you, Sergeant, because I think I can see – oh, my laws.’ She pulled out a fistful of paper notes and several strings of jewellery. Clasping her hands over her mouth and raising almost terrified eyes to Reece’s, she asked, ‘How did these get in here?’
‘You didn’t put them there?’ He took the edge off the question with a charming smile. ‘No, of course you didn’t. I imagine this butler of yours asked you to help open the safe, and when you’d obliged sent you on your way.’
‘He often did. It was easier not to argue. Do you think Mr Biddlestone stole all this, sir?’
‘Or was he storing it for the person who did? I wish I knew.’
Mrs Simpkiss sniffed. ‘What else is in there?’
He tipped up another silver-gilt piece. Out fell a pair of shoes, stinking and showing signs of mould.
‘Mr Biddlestone’s work again, I presume,’ I said. ‘Why on earth should he have put them there when Barrington had explicitly said he wanted them?’
‘For no good purpose, I suspect. But I don’t pretend to know the answer now.’
‘To think I worked alongside him every single day!’ Mrs Simpkiss wailed. ‘If only I’d – I don’t know what …’
‘The man was a vile bully,’ Harriet said, putting her arm round her. ‘You couldn’t have done anything.’
‘Let’s lock it up again, shall we? Then you needn’t worry about it any more. Thank you. No, you keep your key – unless doing so makes you uneasy. I shall certainly keep this one.’
Reece’s smile clearly set her all a-flutter; she made a red-cheeked and deep-curtsied exit.
‘Mrs Simpkiss asked the right question, didn’t she? Did you recognize any of the jewellery, Mrs Rowsley?’
‘No. In fact, I’d speculate that it was all lost before the cricket weekend, when cards were very much on offer. The Gräfin wasn’t invited to stay for it, according to Cousin Barrington – but just didn’t move out. Lady Hortensia is the person to ask.’
‘Of course. Now, back to our initials. So far we have Lady or Lord Pidgeon and Mr Clarence Digby. The cigar-smoking reader – ma’am, are you unwell?’
She had gone pale. ‘Unfortunately Mr Digby … my behaviour … Mr Digby got the impression when I asked him to show me the gardens – in fact I was simply trying to remove him and his cigar from the library. He thought that teaching me how to play croquet should involve his holding the club – the mallet! – for me – his arms being round my waist.’
What was the matter with her? Harriet, whose calm was sometimes worrying, was gibbering incoherently. With a concerned look at me, Davies slipped from the room.
Reece said gently, ‘But you eluded his grasp. Yes, I’ve heard about that incident. Please don’t give it another thought.’
Though effectively he had closed the conversation she pressed on. ‘My memory could be deceiving me – I believe, I suspect that I smelt the same smoke on the clothing of my assailant this afternoon. Thank you,’ she added as Davies passed her a glass of water. ‘I am talking nonsense. That bang on the head! Forgive me. What happens next? Please – the sooner all this is resolved the better.’
‘Might we all sit down somewhere? Somewhere no one can see us? Not even a servant?’
‘There’s no such thing as privacy in a country house, Sergeant,’ Harriet said with a faint smile. ‘Does anyone apart from Mrs Simpkiss know you’re here?’
‘No. And I would prefer for the time being to keep it that way.’
‘In that case I could not recommend the sewing room that the Colonel refers to as our headquarters. The best I can suggest is the Room, provided Mrs Simpkiss does not object and can also get us in there without being seen.’
‘I will speak to her,’ Reece said quietly.
Within moments, Mrs Simpkiss, curtsying deeply, ushered us in before withdrawing and closing the door. I looked at the place, paradoxically made all the gloomier by the sunlight outside. None of the chairs matched any other, of course. The most handsome was surely Jacobean. With an extravagant gesture, Reece offered it to Harriet. Unwontedly demure, she declined, settling for a battered oak one of indeterminate age. When pressed, I accepted it – soon to realise why my dear innocent-seeming wife had not.
‘This is what we need to achieve,’ Reece said. ‘An arrest. I want everyone in the house to believe that Mrs Rowsley has been forced by an unpleasant incident in the garden to rest in her bed chamber – not this new one you mentioned, ma’am. She believes she might recognize her attacker. Rowsley, I suspect that you could no more leave her unattended in the face of danger than fly, but you must drift around drinking your sherry looking increasingly anxious. No, I’m sure sitting down to dinner is not necessary: your appetite might well be affected by your distress. With luck before this point, the attacker will sneak out and head upstairs to finish the job. He will be greeted by none other than Morgan and myself. If he leaves it till later, that might complicate things a little, but not irretrievably.’
‘Wait! Harriet must not be on her own, even if no one knows her location. That blow on her head, and – well, her motto is “just in case”.’ We exchanged a smile.
‘In that case either Morgan or I might play a chaste game of cribbage in her new location until you can leave your fellow guests and come and guard her yourself. In fact I hope the assailant does leave the visit till after dinner, or even when he thinks you might be asleep and both my cousin and I are there to apprehend him. So far so good? Morgan?’
‘Refreshment of some sort, sir?’
‘Of course. Good point. I’ve no idea how to organize that yet but I will. For all parties.’
‘At some point, are the guests going to be examined for injury?’ Harriet asked. ‘I must have drawn blood at very least.’
‘Of course they should! But I fear I have no legal power to require a man to strip to his smalls. Only if we arrested him and detained him might it be possible – unless you stabbed him in a highly visible area, ma’am.’
‘You might look for a torn jacket: Davies has threads the assailant left behind when he made his escape.’
‘Excellent. Much easier.’ He looked at the ugly clock. ‘Rowsley, you need to go and change this instant. Don’t forget to look haggard. Mrs Rowsley, is there anything else you need? That cribbage board and some cards? I will ask Mrs Simpkiss. Morgan!’ They went out together.
Left alone, Harriet and I clung to each other. ‘My love, you will take care?’ we said in concert.