The Count of Samerand and the Ghost of Belgravia

by Bryan Porter

on the front path.

  “MacDonald, has there been any developments?”

  “Nothing new Sir, it’s still as muddled as when you left.” Said the constable with a heavy Scottish accent

  “Hopefully that will be cleared up soon.” When I turned back I saw my friend pressing the tip of his shoe against something in the ground, with a soft mumble that I couldn't over hear.

  “Count?”

  “Mm?” He said absently.

  “Shall we?”

  “Ah, yes quite right.” He said as if he had forgotten the matter at hand before coming to stand with us.

  “Constable, I don't suppose you have a cigarette, I was foolish enough to forget my own in the haste of getting here.”

  “Sorry sir, I smoked the last one I had before being called to this dreadful matter.”

  My friend sighed deeply. “A shame, I suppose I must do without.”

  I was about to offer my friend one of my own, when seeming to read my mind he waved it off. Feeling slightly perplexed I coughed.

  “I take it that you would like to see the scene of the murder first?” I said

  “That would be best I think.”

  The studies was situated on the second floor, near the back of the house, but close enough that it could be spied from the door. I will try my best to describe scene of the murder as a map would be impossible for this format. The room had a single entrance set in the corner closest to the stairs. Across was the desk and chair where the victim still remained. The room was sparsely furnished save for the aforementioned desk, and chair, along with a row of bookshelves that covered one wall to the right hand of the desk. Two windows were positioned evenly on the wall behind the desk. Just in front of the door was a large bloodstain, with several drops leading towards the window near to the bookshelves. Standing just inside of the room was the valet who had been asked to remain.

  The Count taking this all retrieved his telespectacles and a measure of tape that he had brought with him from his pants pocket, as he often disdained any sort of coat unless it was absolutely necessary. Taking the measure of tape he checked the drops, mumbling to himself. He then checked the body, examining the wound over his heart. He made special attention to the knuckles, ears, and forearms.

  “Well I think that is all we are going to learn here.” He said as he finished. “Now.” He said addressing the valet. “My good sir, you arrived with Miss Pendleton after the crime had been committed?”

  “I did Sir.”

  “We have already seen your testimony, but there are a few points I would like clarification on.”

  “Very well Sir.” Said the old valet.

  “Would you say that Mr. Melbourne was a cautious man?”

  “I would have to say so sir. He was very strict on keeping the doors locked at night. Often he would go around after us and recheck the locks.”

  “That is interesting.” The Count said patiently. “So you and Mr. Melbourne were the only ones with a set of keys.”

  “Yes sir. I was only to have one as Mr Melbourne...” The valet's words trailed off as he realized what he was going to say.

  “Yes?”

  “Well sir I don't wish to speak ill of the dead.”

  My friend smiled his best natured smile. “Neither do we sir, we only wish to find the man who has done this.”

  “Well, you see Mr Melbourne had a penchant for the drink, so much so that several times I was called to retrieve him. I was given a set of keys so I did not need to fish through his pockets if the door were locked.”

  “And did you ever misplace the keys?”

  The valet seemed to flush at this. “Forgive me sir, but I have only once made such a mistake. It was the twenty-ninth of March.”

  “Did anything happen that night?”

  “Well it was last Tuesday when a young man came round to let me know that Mr Melbourne required my help. The lad was a good chap and helped me take Mr Melbourne home...”

  “I am sorry, but I really don't see how this relates.” I cut in.

  “If you will allow me, I will continue.” Said the old valet. “It was when we arrived at the door. I am ashamed to say but I couldn't find my key, though I was sure I had brought it. I had to get Mr Melbourne’s from him so that I could unlock the door.”

  “Very interesting.” The Count said. “And did you find the key?”

  “Yes, sir. I found it the next day on my bureau. I must be getting on to have left it there.”

  “One more question. Could you describe this young man?”

  “Indeed I can sir. He was tall, perhaps a head taller than me, with sandy blond hair.”

  “Was he strong?”

  “As far as I could tell as he held most of Mr. Melbourne’s weight himself.”

  He clapped his hands together. “Well that is quite interesting. I thank you; you may very well have given us what we would need.” The valet stared at the Count with large eyes.

  “I have?” He asked

  “Yes.” The Count said seeming to stare off into his own thoughts. “This is off topic, but would you happen to have a cigarette? I am quite without tonight.”

  “No sir, not I or Mr Melbourne smoked.”

  I ushered the count undo the landing with a dubious look. “If you are in such need of a cigarette take one of mine", to which my friend only showed that smile that could be infuriating at times.

  “No, no my dear Wright. I assure you that I am in no such need.”

  “Then why do you keep asking?”

  “Really, you know I have no love of my own voice. I will tell all when I have all the facts. Now I only have to speak with the maid, and receive a response to my telegram, and I feel that I will be able to furnish you with all the answers that you require.”

  Miss Pendleton had been allowed to stay in the parlour after she had been revived. She was a strikingly beautiful thing, just barely in her twentieth year, with chestnut coloured hair that was falling loose from a bun and eyes large and slightly haunted looking. Her pallor had not faded from her fainting spell, and she was only sitting with the help of the armrest.

  “Miss Pendleton?” My friend asked, coming into the parlour and spying the beautiful creature.

  “I am sir.” She said in a quiet and shy voice.

  “If you are feeling up to it, I would ask you a few questions.” My friend spoke in a calm and soothing manner which seemed to agree with the maid.

  “Alright.” She began.

  “First, I would like to know if you knew anyone who would wish harm upon Mr. Melbourne.”

  “No.” The maid started. She looked like she wanted to say more but stopped herself.

  “Are you sure, anything you say might help.”

  “Well it’s just I wouldn't wish to speak ill of the dead.”

  My friend smiled briefly. “I think in this case it can be forgiven.”

  “Well, Mr. Melbourne was a very difficult man.”

  “He was abusive?”

  “Not to me sir.” And she said no more of it.

  “Did you notice if he had been more watchful lately?”

  “Not more than his habit sir, he was always a watchful man.”

  “Thank you.” He said in his gallant tones. “I think you have answered all that I need to know.”

  “But Count you haven't asked her a thing about the event leading up to the murder?”

  “No, I haven't, and please, Wright, be so good as not to mention that terrible business in front of the lady.” My companion patted the maid’s hand, and then he did a very queer thing. Leaning close he whispered something, that seemed to make her cheeks colour more.

  “That is well.” My friend said folding his hands over his knee. “Constable, please help Miss Pendleton, up to her room, she has had a trying night.”

  My friend cast one last look at the maid before she was escorted out.

  “You ask some queer questions, Count.” Said I

  “Do I?” He said absently. “Perha
ps they seemed to be but, it is from these questions that I am able to understand what happened.”

  “You can't mean to say that you have it solved.”

  “Not all of it no, I am still waiting on the final piece.”

  “Well can you tell me anything about the killer?”

  “Only the trivialities.” He said waving his hand dismissively.

  “But Count if you know something then for god’s sake tell me.”

  My friend sighed wearily. “If you must know, the man you are seeking stands between five ten and six foot, he has a muscular build, is a heavy chain smoker and more than likely has sandy blonde hair.”

  “Count, it sounds like you suspect this young man who helped Mr Melbourne home.”

  “Indeed I do.” He said patiently.

  “Surely if he intended to kill this man he would have done so the night he helped him home.”

  “If all is as it seems that would be the case, but it didn't, so there must be some clue we have yet to lay our hands upon.”

  “But what has made you sure it is this man.”

  “Several things, I already knew the characteristics of the killer; the valet's story only confirmed what I already knew.”

  “How can you know a man without laying eyes on him?”

  “Quite simply, I remember that you observed me when I was measuring the blood drops. Through my course of study, I have found that the diameter of a drop or stain can often tell you the distance it fell from. I take this into account along with the fact that the most natural level to hold a knife is aligned with your waist. Since the legs are half the measure of a man I doubled my number to come to the correct height. As for his strength it was obvious to me, as the late Mr Melbourne was of goodly size, and the fact that he was moved clearly shows that the man had to be of a strong build.”

  “What about