Since Corinne’s marriage, Coffen had become shy about dropping in for meals when Luten was at home. As it was possible he was at home today with the new case to solve, Coffen went to Prance’s house for lunch instead. The food would be good, but there’d be either a lecture on manners along with it or more boasting about his book. At least he had an excellent excuse, even a reason. Prance would want to know what was going on. Unfortunately Prance had been put to bed by his doctor, so Coffen went to his own house and dined on cold cuts and crusty bread. As soon as he had finished his modest repast, he went across the street to call on Luten.
He found the newlyweds still at the table having coffee and was invited to join them. When Corinne asked whether he had had lunch, he replied that he’d “had a bite”, in such a hungry-looking way that she asked Evans to bring him a large piece of apple tart and cheddar.
He wasted no time making his report. “Morgrave’s our man right enough,” he said. “The manager of the flats put me on to a fellow called McRaney who was about the only fellow in the building Bolton had anything to do with. They were about the same age and from the same rung of society — gentlemen but not well greased, to judge by where they live. He told McRaney he was meeting Morgrave one evening last week. McRaney wasn’t sure of the name, thought it was Morgraine, but he mentioned the Honourable, so it’s the same person right enough. Anyhow, when McRaney suggested they all go out for a drink together, Bolton refused. Said it was a business meeting. I figure he was on a spying mission and didn’t want company. What we’ve got to do is break into Morgrave’s flat and look for clues.”
“That won’t be easy,” Luten said. “The Honourable John Morgrave’s household will have a full complement of servants.”
“Yes,” Corinne confirmed. “I’ve called on Samantha before. The place is not large, but it’s run in the grand manner. We’ll have to go and call on them, Luten, and see what we can discover. I’ll give Samantha a box of invitations for the ball for her to address, since she offered. I can’t believe she knows what John is up to.”
“Be careful what you say, just in case,” Luten cautioned. “He’s not likely to tell us much but we’ll mention we’re working on the case and see how he reacts.”
“I’ll park my rig nearby and see if he comes running out after you leave,” Coffen said. “Follow him, see where he goes. It might be a clue. I want to see what he looks like in any case, since I wouldn’t know him to see him.”
“Don’t make it too obvious,” Luten said.
“I won’t. I’ll have Fitz get out of the rig and be poking around at the wheel, as if it’s broken.”
“You’re taking Fitz?” Corinne asked in alarm.
“He can’t get lost following your rig.” After a frowning pause, he added, “And Morgrave’s. If he gets lost coming home, it won’t matter. There’ll be no special hurry.”
“Well, shall we send for the carriage?” Luten said, rising. “I still have to put in an appearance at the House after the visit.”
“Right, I’ll just dash home and send for my rig,” Coffen said.”
When the two carriages arrived, they set out for the Morgrave’s flat. Coffen had ordered Fitz to draw to a stop a few doors down and wait.
The Lutens were admitted by a toplofty butler. Luten feared the trip had been in vain when he learned Morgrave was out and might not be home before dinner. Samantha was there, however, and welcomed them into an elegant drawing room not unlike Corinne’s former home, except for the colours. Samantha’s was done in blue to flatter her blue eyes and blonde curls. She was young and dewy-eyed, very pretty and friendly.
“Do sit down and have a glass of wine,” she said. “John may show up at any time. One never knows when he’ll be back. I think he’s becoming bored. He was going to the Horse Guards to see if there was a position for him. Harley, a family friend, works there and suggested it as John is so interested in the war, and knowledgeable about it too.”
Luten had a hard time controlling his expression at this telling speech. He feared Harley had been unwittingly feeding Morgrave information, and now Morgrave wanted to be closer to state secrets. Old David Harley was a fool, but not disloyal, so far as anyone knew.
“It’s good for a man to have meaningful work to do,” Luten said.
“And ladies too,” Samantha replied. “And if I judge that box you’re carrying correctly, Lady Luten, I expect you have some work there for me.”
Corinne passed the box over. Samantha called for wine which they accepted, and they settled in for a little social chit-chat. Corinne hated to leave without further spying. She knew exactly what Luten was thinking about Morgrave’s wanting to get into the Horse Guards and she wanted to see if she could find any corroboration.
They were about to leave fifteen minutes later when Morgrave returned. He didn’t express either surprise or dismay to find them there but did ask, “To what do we owe this rare honour, Luten?”
Examining Morgrave, Luten took note that he matched Hopley’s description of the man Bolton suspected of being the spy — young, tall, well built, dark-haired, quite handsome.
“Just accompanying my wife on a little errand,” he said, pointing to the box of invitations. “I hear you are thinking of taking a position at the Horse Guards, Morgrave. Congratulations.”
“Premature, I’m afraid. There doesn’t seem to be anything open at the moment. And what is the Berkeley Brigade up to these days, Luten?"
“As a matter of fact, we were handed a job this morning. A connection of mine, Harry Bolton, was murdered last night. His father asked us to look into it.”
“Another murder,” Morgrave said, shaking his head in dismay but showing no other emotion. “It’s becoming unsafe to go out at night. How did it happen?”
“He was killed in his own flat.”
“Ah, a robbery. He’d have been wiser to just let them take what they wanted.”
“We don’t know just what happened yet,” Luten said. “We were only called in this morning.”
“Harry Bolton, you say? I don’t I believe I know him. Do we know him, Sam?”
She frowned and said, “I don’t believe so, though the name’s rather familiar. Where would one have been likely to meet him, Luten? Did he go about in society much?”
“Not what one would call high society, the ton. I daresay he had his own set.”
The topic was winding down, and soon they would have to leave. When no one was looking at her, Corinne lifted her glass and tilted it on to her skirt, then jumped up. “Oh dear! I’m sorry, Samantha. I hope I haven’t stained your lovely carpet.”
“It’s all right, only a few drops. I’ll call a maid.” She rang a bell and a maid almost immediately appeared, to be instructed to sponge up the spill.
“It’s your own skirt that’s caught most of the spill,” Samantha said.
“Oh dear, and a new suit, too,” Corinne said, examining her skirt. “Could I just nip into your room and see if I can get it out? A little cold water and a cloth ...”
“Of course. I’ll help you.” Samantha rose at once.
“That’s not necessary,” Corinne said. “You’d best stay and make sure the maid gets the carpet cleaned. That’s more valuable than my skirt. If you’ll just steer me to your room and have someone bring some water and a cloth. I’ll take care of it.”
The butler was told to bring a basin of water and a cloth and show Lady Luten to the dressing room, which was just a few steps down the hall and reached through the bedchamber. Once in the room, Corinne didn’t waste a minute. The bedroom was elegant with hand-painted Chinese wallpaper and mahogany furnishings, but didn’t seem a likely spot for clues. No desk, just the big canopied bed and matching bed tables, an armoire, a pair of dressers and one comfortable chair by the window. On one bedside table sat a lamp and a copy of Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, on the other was a matching lamp and Reggie’s gothic novel. Reg would be interested to hear that. She wondered which one of them was reading Reggie’s book. She darted through the door into the adjoining room.
It was a small dressing room used by both husband and wife, as the flat wasn’t large. There in the corner sat a mahogany desk holding a blotter, a calendar, a few invitations, an address book, an ink bottle, pens and some stationery.
One sheet lay on the blotter. She ran over to it and saw that Samantha was writing to her mother. She drew open the one drawer and the first thing she saw was a little book with a red leather binding, much used to judge by the dog-eared condition of the pages. It had no title, and when she opened it, she didn’t know what to make of it. It seemed to be just a confusion of numbers and letters that didn’t form words, but after studying it for a few moments, she realized it was a code book! She quickly rifled through the one drawer but could find no further evidence of decoding — or possibly coding messages for transfer to France.
When she heard a light footstep approaching from the hallway, she put the book back, closed the drawer, ran for the water basin, splashed some water on her skirt and was rubbing at it when Samantha came in.
“There, all done,” she said, setting the cloth aside. “So clumsy of me. I am sorry. Is the carpet all right?”
“It’s fine. Don’t give it a thought. And I’ll have those invitations written by tomorrow. Shall I bring them to you?”
“I’m going out. I’ll pick them up,” Corinne said, eager for another chance to get into the place and search for clues.
Luten was already standing when she returned. They took their leave and went to the carriage, glancing down the street to see Coffen was still at his carriage. Coffen saw them and spoke to Fitz.
“That was quick thinking, spilling your wine,” Luten complimented, as they drove off. “Any luck in the bed chamber?”
“He’s a spy, Luten,” she announced. “There was a code book in the desk.”
“Good God! So it’s true. I was suspicious about his trying for a position at the Horse Guards. Thank goodness he didn’t get it. Imagine the damage he could have done — a spy working for the French coding and decoding war messages.”
“A disaster! Will you report to Hopley?”
“I’m in charge of this particular case. Considering the way things are run at the Horse Guards, it might be better to keep it under our hats. I’ll wait until we catch him red-handed. Now that we know where to concentrate our efforts it won’t take long. We’ll have to keep a sharp eye on him to see he doesn’t do any harm in the meanwhile. Would you mind dropping me off at the House before you go home?”
“Of course. I wonder if Coffen will have any luck following Morgrave.”
“If there’s anything to learn, Coffen’s the man to do it. We’ll have this case solved in no time.”
Corinne just looked at him. Their cases never seemed to get solved that quickly or easily. “Optimist!” she said.