by Joan Smith
“As for the results of our search, what did you find?” Belami asked, turning to Pronto.
“Didn’t find your pistol. Was it missing from your room?”
“Yes, one of them is gone,
“Didn’t find the sheet or gloves or stocking with the holes burned in it either. Didn’t find the necklace, of course. Didn’t find anything, really, except a very decent bottle of brandy behind the books in the morning parlor. Wonder how that got there?”
“Probably been there since Papa’s time,” Belami said. “He used to drink brandy in the library and hide the bottle from Mama.”
“You have forgotten what I discovered in the small room just west of the ballroom but on the other side of the hallway,” Deirdre announced. “It was dark, and there was no fire. I took in a lamp and found one end of the curtain jammed into the window, as though it had been closed in a hurry. And the snow on the ledge outside had been all messed about by someone. The funny thing is, there were no footsteps outside on the ground. Do you think he could have thrown the necklace out in the snow, Belami? I didn’t see any holes in the snow.”
“I doubt it. Such a small thing is easily concealed and would be hard to recover from a snowbank. Let’s have a look at the room.”
They went along to the small parlor, brought in several lamps, and examined the guilty window ledge. It was just as Deirdre had said.
“It couldn’t have been closed from the outside. That’s certain,” she pointed out, “but someone could have entered from outside and closed it hurriedly after him.”
“No footprints,” Pronto reminded her. “Would have had to swing down from the roof.”
“Now, that’s odd! I had an impression I saw someone on the roof when I arrived,” Belami said, his interest quickening. “But that particular roof isn’t on this side of the house. It’s the kitchen roof, on the other side.”
“Is there a window above this one?” Deirdre asked rather quickly, to divert interest from the roof. She would die sooner than admit she had crawled out on a roof in the storm at midnight. Dick would be extremely suspicious of anything so unusual.
There was a window above, but it did not issue from anyone’s bedchamber. It was a hall window. When investigated, it was also seen to have had the snow on the ledge disturbed. To add to the incrimination, there were a few small puddles of water beneath it, which were assumed to have come from melted snow. The puddles were not obliging enough to lead to any room.
After some cogitation, Belami announced he had figured out how it was done. The criminal had let himself out the window upstairs in the hall, after first opening the parlor window below. He had entered by the parlor window, stolen the diamond, after which two courses were open to him. Either he had returned above up the rope which he had left hanging, or he had changed his clothes in the dark parlor and rejoined the party.
“And if he did the latter,” Deirdre said, “then the sheet and stocking and so on would be hidden in that small parlor.”
Without another word, they all darted back to the parlor for a more thorough search. Stuffed down the back of a sofa, under the cushions, was hidden a length of rope with wet spots on it. Whether the disguise had been donned before or after coming down the rope was not seen as being terribly important. The fact was, he had not returned via the rope, or he would have pulled it in with him upstairs. And if he hadn’t returned in secret via the rope, he must have left his outfit in this room. He wouldn’t have roamed the halls and stairway in it.
“Rubbish!” Pronto jeered. “He couldn’t have pulled the rope in from down here. How could he have untied it?”
“The rope wasn’t knotted on to anything,” Belami said. “It’s a long piece.”
“And you call yourself an expert!” Pronto chortled. “He would have fallen to the ground if he didn’t have the rope attached to anything. A rope don’t hold itself up straight.”
“The windows are mullioned. There’s a heavy piece of wood between the doors where they open and close. He could have looped it around the window divider, if he opened both windows. Then he only had to pull one end, and it would come free.”
“Then the outfit should be in here,” Deirdre said. “Where could it be?”
“Ain’t here. Looked all over,” Pronto insisted.
Belami stood, arms akimbo, going over the room with his sharp, searching eyes, till he reached the fireplace. He paced forward and took up the poker.
“I’ll call Snippe,” Pronto offered. “Let him lay a fire, if you’re cold. It is a mite chilly. We could move along to another room.”
No one paid him any heed. Belami was on his hands and knees, asking for a lamp and poking at the chimney with the poker while Deirdre went forward and pushed the lamp into position to give him better light. There was a whoosh, a shower of soot, and a thump. When the dust had settled, Belami carefully lifted a dirty sheet on the end of the poker. The stocking with burned eye holes, the gloves, and the pistol tumbled out of it on the hearth.
“By the living jingo, this deduction business works!” Pronto exclaimed in surprise.
“The difficulty is to lower one’s mind to the level of a common thief,” Belami said grandly as he gingerly picked up the fallen objects and examined them. One sheet is very much like another. There was no saying whether it came from his own house, though a servant might recognize the stitching of the hem. The kid gloves might prove helpful. They were a lady’s, not new, but they were large. The stocking too could help, if its mate were discovered. Belami folded these items into a bundle with his pistol and the rope for removal to his laboratory.
“We can’t do much more tonight. We might as well get some sleep,” he said.
“I’m dead on my feet,” Pronto agreed. “Hungry as a horse too, by Jove.”
“The servants should be questioned,” Deirdre said. “Certain of your guests ought to have someone spying on them too.”
“Neither servants nor guests will be going anywhere before morning. My groom is sleeping in the stable. If anyone prepares to leave, he’ll call me. I’m a little worried about my grays. The idiot left them standing in the snow an hour while I—” He stopped as a pair of very inquisitive gray eyes grew larger in curiosity.
“Widow Barnes?” Pronto asked behind his hand but in a loudish voice.
“Yes, I stopped off to visit the Deacon’s widow. Old Mrs. Barnes, with a donation for her—er.
“Orphans?” Deirdre asked with a disbelieving eye.
“Just so. I spent longer than I planned with the children.”
“Was that before or after you lost a wheel in the snow?”
“After.”
“She must have a great many children, to have kept you so late. I hope she doesn’t find herself blessed with another, come next autumn.”
There was a garbled tittering from Pronto’s direction. Belami turned a frustrated glare on him. “Will you please go to bed! One hesitates to take a poker to a female guest, but I see no reason to cavil at landing you a blow.”
“He is lowering his mind to the commonest level, Pronto,” Deirdre explained kindly. “You mentioned being hungry. Your host failed to feed you, but as he will not take a poker to me, I plan to go to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk. Why don’t you come with me?”
“Warm milk?” Pronto asked, screwing up his face. “I’ll starve, thankee kindly.”
“Suit yourself.” She curtsied prettily and scampered down to the kitchen.
“Warm milk!” Pronto repeated, shaking his head. “That woman belongs in Bedlam.”
“So do you!” Belami charged, turning on him angrily. “Why did you have to blurt out the name of Widow Barnes?”
“Blurt it out? I whispered.”
“Loudly enough for her to hear. I don’t want you talking broad in front of Miss Gower, Pronto.”
“Hmph. Who mentioned an addition to the widow’s brood come autumn? Talking broad indeed. You’d have to go some to keep up with the chits nowadays. Even the nice on
es, like Deirdre.”
“I’m going to bed,” Dick said and stalked from the room.
Before retiring, he took one last tour of the ballroom, looking for clues. As he came from it five minutes later, he met Deirdre in the hallway, wearing a very important look.
“I have found a clue,” she told him.
“What is it?” he asked eagerly.
She unclenched her fist and showed him what she held. He was unimpressed by a short length of ornate gold chain. “Don’t you see?” she asked. “It’s the chain Auntie’s diamond was hanging on.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, taking it in his fingers. It was sticky, some residue clinging to it. “Where did you find it?”
“It was at the bottom of the syllabub bowl. The thief has disassembled the piece already, torn the diamond off, and discarded the chain. That will make the diamond easier to hide and smuggle out of the house.”
“It might have been dropped into the bowl by anyone, while at dinner,” he said, shaking the chain in his palm.
“Isn’t it important?” she asked, deflated.
“Of course it is. Everything is important,” he assured her. She smiled softly, basking in his approval. She was much prettier when she put off her bristly facade.
“I suppose none of the servants saw it being dropped in.”
“No, unfortunately,” she replied. “I expect it was concealed in the thief s hand and slid into the bowl, hidden by the spoon, as he helped himself to some syllabub. It doesn’t help much to discover the thief, but at least I know now. That is—I mean, someone who wasn’t at dinner couldn’t have done it.”
“But our suspects were all at dinner,” he reminded her.
“Mine weren’t,” she answered with a little tilt of her chin up in the air.
“You still think I might have been involved!”
“Not now,” she answered, and laughed.
“Who found it, you or the servants?”
“I did. I decided to have some syllabub instead of warm milk. I felt it sort of rustling against the spoon, and pulled it out. Meg was there with me.”
“I see. May I keep it for the present?”
“Of course. Is it all right if I tell Auntie I found it?”
“Let’s keep it quiet for the moment. It’s better to keep all our investigations strictly confidential. No point giving anything away to our enemy, whoever he may be.”
“Whatever you say,” she agreed.
“Deirdre, did you really think I might have done it?” he asked, frowning.
“Yes,” she answered blandly, “and it was very humiliating. To be so disliked you would sink to stealing to be rid of me—you can imagine how utterly depressing,” she told him.
“No, I wasn’t that eager to be rid of you,” he said, trying to make light of it. But in fact he had humiliated her, and to a proud woman like Deirdre, it must have been painful. He felt ashamed of himself, and determined to make it up to her. “You’re much too good for me, you know.”
“I expect that’s half the problem,” she agreed readily. “You wouldn’t care for a good woman, when there are so many of the other sort available.”
“Do you take me for such a deep-dyed villain that I couldn’t be comfortable with a good woman?”
“I’m not sure, but certainly a good woman wouldn’t be comfortable with you,” she told him earnestly. “Ac-tually, I don’t believe you’re ready to settle down yet, Belami.”
In two strokes she managed to activate all his lively dislike of her. A good woman couldn’t stand him. Ac-tually.
“Good night, Deirdre,” he said stiffly.
He let her mount the stairs before he went up himself. It seemed like a good idea to get a few hours’ rest. He’d have a rough day pacifying the duchess.
Deirdre lay awake long in her canopied bed, reliving the evening. She had learned the story of Knag in the kitchen, and suspected the servants thought Belami was involved. The chain and the investigation he was executing belied it, but then he would have to pretend to investigate. All the world knew it was his hobby. And if it was Belami, how had he gotten the chain into the syllabub, when he hadn’t been near the dining room or kitchen?
Chapter 4
Belami had various techniques for getting information from his victims. The lower orders reacted favorably to intimidation and threats—the vaguer the better. Ladies of higher birth found his interrogations palatable providing they were seasoned with outrageous flirtation. Gentlemen, being reasonable creatures by and large, were asked to “help.” If the information from one man differed startlingly from the others, he was assumed to be lying, and further deductions were made. Belami knew none of these techniques would quite do for the Dowager Duchess of Charney. When bereft of an idea, he proceeded on sheer brass. He took the courageous decision to face her in her bedchamber before she sent for him. That would put at least the element of surprise on his side.
He intercepted the servant at her door and personally presented her breakfast tray to her. She sat propped amidst a battery of pillows, looking like a featherless bird in a snowbank. Her face was narrow and mean, her eyes close-set, standing guard over a beak of a nose. As her position in bed concealed her great height, she looked small. She wore a lace-edged cap tied under her chin. A gloating expression took possession of her features when she saw him enter.
“Ha!” was her morning greeting.
“Happy New Year, Your Grace,” he had the poor idea of saying.
“Happy? Happy? I would have to be an idiot to be happy under the circumstances. Do you call me an idiot, sir?”
“Certainly not, madam,” he said, setting the tray on the bed table and removing the silver cover from her gammon and eggs. The duchess was known to be a good trencherman. The steaming food brought an involuntary smile to her lips.
“So you finally got home, did you? I trust your mama, the widgeon, has informed you what goings-on occurred here last night?”
“I have had the story from more than one source, and want to express my very deepest chagrin. Naturally I shall repay you for the theft, if the gem is not recovered.”
“My understanding was that you are already dipped, Belami. Several of your investments have gone sour, if rumor is to be believed. Not that you couldn’t raise a mortgage on one of your estates. Whitehern, I believe, is not even entailed.”
“That is correct,” he said as she lifted the knife and fork to attach her victuals. “I am extremely upset about this dreadful affair. No stone will be left unturned to discover the perpetrator. It will be helpful if you could tell me who knew you were bringing the Charney Diamond with you. Do you customarily travel with it?”
“Sometimes I do; sometimes I don’t. It is purely a matter of chance. I keep it in a vault in London. I go on home to Fernvale from here, not to return to the city till April for the wedding. I shall be wanting the diamond for my own country ball, which is why I brought it along. I frequently take it back and forth—the country for the winter, the city for the seasons. Anyone might know it, though I did not actually tell anyone, so far as I can remember. Owning a diamond of the first water is a responsibility.”
“No one at all?”
“The men at the bank would know. My servants, of course, but such people did not attend your ball. Nor did you, I might add.”
“I was regrettably detained. The storm—”
“The storm began at the same hour as the party, well after dinner, as a matter of fact. Never mind gammoning me you had any intention of attending. When did you blow in? This morning?”
“Late last night. I understand Herr Bessler accompanied you and your niece in your carriage.”
“He did. One likes to have a man in the carriage for a trip. Bessler has no horses. He has a decent carriage, but uses job horses around town. I was happy to have his escort.”
“He would know you were traveling with the diamond?”
“You’re not suggesting Bessler had anything to do with it!” she gasped
. “He was at my side when the thief entered.”
“Where were you standing, exactly?”
“Very close to the doorway. We had been in the hall before, taking a walk, for of course I do not dance at my age. We went to the ballroom for the midnight festivities. Your mama, the peagoose, had nothing organized.”
“Who suggested the walk?”
“I did. Bessler suggested we return to the ballroom for the striking of twelve. If you mean to infer that Bessler arranged the theft, he would not be likely to have reminded me it was nearly twelve, and time for us to return. The thief would have had easy work of robbing me at a dark end of the hall, with no witnesses but Bessler.”
“That’s true.”
“Of course it is true. I know your reputation of playing at solving crimes, my lad, and I do not approve. It is not work for a gentleman. Forget that nonsense, and let Bow Street handle it. You will send off for Townsend this morning, of course.”
“Much as I should like to, the snow has continued all night, making it impossible.”
“Bother. You mean we are snowed in?”
“Precisely, but we must not despair. It also means your diamond is snowed in. Whoever took it cannot leave the premises. We shall find it.”
While he spoke, she ate greedily. When he stopped, she swallowed, said, “Hmph,” and prepared to set him down a peg. “We” indeed, as though he were the king. “Finding it is all well and good. Repaying me its value if it is not found is, of course, the proper thing to do, and I shall not offend you by any reluctance to accept the full price—thirty thousand pounds. You must own, it still leaves an unpleasantness to the visit. However, I’m quite sure Deirdre will not allow me to continue long at odds with her husband,” she finished with a sharp look to Belami.