The Shadowcutter (19 page)

“To a fence or to someone who knows a fence.”

Giles thought for a moment. Syme was most unlikely to have those sort of connections, and he had mentioned other men.

“I thought half an hour ago that I might have identified the father,” he went on, “but you are making me wonder if there isn’t something more complicated going on here. If she had the right contacts then she might have stolen to order. That is often what happens with serious thefts. Someone asks for it be obtained. She would have to know it was there in the first place, as well.”

“That would be common knowledge, surely, Major, amongst the maids, among all the servants, for that matter? If Miss La Roche goes down there regularly to fetch things for Lady Rothborough, then anyone standing where I was, would know that was where the jewels were kept. She would see Miss La Roche going in and out with the jewel cases. If Miss Jones was staying here with her mistress all those times before then...” Sukey shrugged. “She might even have seen them. Perhaps she asked to see them. I could imagine that. Maybe on another visit. You did say she had stayed here before?”

Giles nodded. “We must talk to Miss La Roche again. What you say makes perfect sense.”

“And did you not say, that her Ladyship does not like the parure, that she never wears it –?”

“So it might have been stolen months ago, and no-one would be any wiser, because no-one has asked for it – until yesterday.”

“But if Miss Jones were still alive,” Giles said, “would we suspect her? Is the fact she has been murdered making us make a false connection? Perhaps she is just an innocent victim.”

“I would say that people get murdered for a reason,” said Sukey after a moment.

“There is something in that,” he said. “Now did you say you were down there this morning to ask for tea from the housekeeper?”

“Yes, camomile.”

“Where did that tea come from?”

“A tin in the dry stores room. I went in with Mrs Hope. It’s just off her sitting room.”

“Yes, of course it is!” said Giles. “And was the door to the store locked?”

“No. Why?”

“We found tea, dried tea, in Miss Jones’ cuffs. I was wondering where it might have come from. How would you come to have tea in the cuff of your sleeve? May I?” He caught Sukey’s hand, and looked at her cuff. Like Eliza Jones’ it was deep and the end was folded back. “Excuse me,” he said, dropping her hand. “I need to try an experiment. Will you help me with it? It is rather a wild thought but there might be something in it.”

A few minutes later they were with Mrs Hope in the large, well-appointed dry store room that, as Sukey had pointed out, adjoined her sitting room. It resembled a fashionable grocer’s store, with every edible commodity imaginable having a specific container, from tiny cannisters of expensive, exotic spices to great wooden barrels of flour and meal. However, it was the large japanned tea chests that interested Giles.

He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. It contained the tea leaves he had found in the cuff of Miss Jones’ sleeve.

“Now Mrs Hope, what sort of tea is that?”

She put on her glasses and examined it.

“That’s a black Indian.”

And which chest is that?”

“This big one here, sir.”

“May I see inside it?”

She pulled out the chest and opened it.

“When was this refilled?” he asked, observing it was almost full.

“Oh, about a fortnight ago, just before the family got back. I can give you the exact date – it is in my ledger.”

“You supervised the filling?”

“Yes, sir, of course. Bard the grocer from Stangate supplied it. I like to see exactly what goes in there. You can never be sure with these people. Why, sir?”

“If you will just indulge me a moment,” Giles said, taking off his coat and handing it to Sukey. He then rolled up his shirt sleeve, plunged his hand deep into the chest, and began to rummage around. Mrs Hope and Sukey, naturally, looked at him as if he were a madman, which he felt himself to be for some long moments, until his fingers suddenly came across something hard. He seized it and pulled out his hand, causing a small explosion of tea leaves over the floor. In his hand he held a simple drawstring bag, made of linen ticking. It jangled and clattered as he set it down on the table.

“That isn’t... is it?” Sukey said, in an excited whisper.

“I think it might be,” he said, taking his coat back from her. “Please do the honours.”

Sukey opened the bag and reached in tentatively. She came out with a glittering crown, thick with diamonds and rubies and pearls.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Mrs Hope. “It’s the Rothborough tiara. What on earth was it doing there?”

“With luck, we have the whole parure,” said Giles, looking into the bag. It contained a dazzling jumble of jewels.

Sukey stood gazing at the object in her hands, quite transfixed by its extraordinary lustre. Then, as if it were about to burn her, she set it quickly down on the table.

“What is that all worth, do you think?” she said, watching as Giles reached into the bag and came out with a matching bracelet.

Mrs Hope could not resist the lure of the tiara and was turning it in her hands.

“It’s so heavy!” she said. “No wonder her Ladyship doesn’t care to wear it. It would give you a terrible headache. But on the right head, it would look very fetching. Lady Charlotte, for example –” She sighed and put it down on the table.

“We had better go and see Lord Rothborough,” Giles said putting the tiara and bracelet back into the bag. “Come Sukey, you did most of the work of finding them. You can give his jewels back to him,” he said, giving her the bag.

-0-

They found Lord Rothborough with Charlotte and Augusta in his private study. It was clear that a scene that was far from pleasant had been taking place. Augusta was obviously in some distress, and the moment Giles came in she made for the door.

“Augusta –” Rothborough said, but she ran past Giles.

“This is perhaps not the best moment,” Giles said.

“I hope you have good news for me, Major,” Lord Rothborough, with a great sigh. “I have been hearing some sorry tales just now.”

“We have recovered the jewels, but that is probably poor consolation in the circumstances,” Giles said.

He gestured to Sukey who presented the bag to Lord Rothborough with a curtsey. He stared at it with some astonishment.

“In here?”

“In there, in a tea chest,” said Giles. “In the dry goods larder.”

“How extraordinary,” said Rothborough, opening the bag and laying out the pieces on his desk. “There is a bracelet missing – but otherwise, this is the complete set. Here, Charlotte, this was your grandmother’s favourite piece. It was got from Russia, I believe.” And he handed Lady Charlotte the tiara. “Put it on,” he said. “I have often thought you should wear it.”

Rather self-consciously, to her credit, Lady Charlotte obeyed her father and crowned herself.

“Magnificent,” said her father. “Thank you, Major Vernon.”

“It was Mrs Connolly who solved the greater part of the puzzle,” Giles said.

“Be careful he does not make you a constable, Mrs Connolly,” said Lord Rothborough.

“Now, that is a good idea,” said Giles. “I have often thought that women constables would be of great service in certain situations.”

“Oh, I should not care for such a cut in my wages,” said Sukey, with a smile.

“Too sensible by half,” said Lord Rothborough.

Giles studied the display of jewels.

“Does the other bracelet resemble this one?”

“Yes, they are a pair,” said Lord Rothborough.

“I wonder where that might have got to. We should search Miss Jones’ room again. But she was perhaps too clever for that. Of course, the bracelet may have gone on ahead, so to speak, as an advance sample.”

“Perhaps to the man who killed her,” Sukey said.

“Perhaps,” said Giles. “And Syme may help me with that, when I have put him a little longer on mental rack. He may give me some clue as to who this other man might be.”

“I am glad to hear that!” said Rothborough. “And I am glad you are here to deal with him, for I am not sure I could be responsible for my actions if the wretch were to cross my path. He has used Augusta abominably! I have a mind to have Bodley lock him in his room. He will be grateful for it – a stout door will protect him from me, the insolent beggar.”

“From what Augusta said,” Charlotte said, “it seems he may have killed Miss Jones.”

“I am not sure of that,” Giles said. “But he is certainly a strong suspect at present. I trust with a little pressure, he may tell us a great deal more.”

“You mean he will confess?” she said.

“He may exonerate himself or hang himself. We shall see.”

Chapter Eighteen

Syme was in his room. He had sent for his luggage and was packing, or rather he was throwing things into his box in a fashion suggestive of panic.

“Do not imagine you will be allowed to leave in these circumstances,” Giles said, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. “You and I have only just begun talking.”

Syme put down the bundle of folded linen he was holding and said, “Whatever Lady Augusta has said to you –”

“I am to disregard?”

“She may be confused about what occurred. Women are liable to misinterpret things, especially when they are swayed by their feelings.”

“Lady Augusta struck me as anything but confused,” Giles said. “Sit down, Mr Syme, will you?” He took his notebook from his pocket and consulted it. “Now, you claim that you only saw Miss Jones pass by the pavilion where you had your tryst with Lady Augusta.”

“Yes, yes, that is all,” he said, sitting down in the armchair.

“Yet you told Lady Augusta to spin quite a different tale should I ask about this. She claims that you asked her to say that you went and spoke to Miss Jones, but only for a moment.” Syme studied his fingers and made no move to answer. “Is she mistaken about that?”

“She may have recalled it wrongly.”

“Or you forgot what you told her to tell me?” Giles said. “That is the trouble with lying, one is liable to make mistakes.”

“I think she was mistaken,” he said.

“That’s interesting,” said Giles. “So now I have three versions of what happened.” Syme glanced at him nervously. “Your initial account, the version of events that you asked Lady Augusta to recount and, finally, another one entirely, which she eventually admitted to me, in a state of some distress.”

“If she was in distress then you must doubt the veracity of it,” Syme said after a moment.

“You are a fine lover,” said Giles. “Very gallant. This third story is rather inconvenient for you, so I will excuse you. Lady Augusta told me that after Eliza Jones appeared and abused you, she was so shocked at what she saw and heard, that she at once ran back to the house.”

“She may have done,” Syme said.

“Leaving you alone with Eliza Jones, yes?”

“Yes,” said Syme after a pause and not meeting Giles’ eye.

“And how did go on from there? What did Eliza say to you? Lady Augusta said she was angry with you.”

“She was.”

“Why?”

“Because I had resisted her. She did not care for that. She was so... depraved. She was determined to compromise me. She was determined to drag me down with her. When she saw me with – well, her vile temper got the better of her, and of course, she had no compunction about making a scene! Her language was beyond belief. It shocked me, for generally she had this air of gentility about her, almost as if she were a lady, but that night...” Syme shook his head.

“How long did this outburst last?”

“I can’t really say. I was attempting to calm her, of course, because I was afraid it would attract attention, but I did not seem to get through to her.”

“You did not lose your own temper?” Syme glanced away. “It must have been provoking. Most men would struggle to keep their tempers in such circumstances.”

“I may have raised my voice.”

And smashed her head against the cave wall? Giles wondered.

“And this all took place where?”

“By the little pavilion. Just as I showed you earlier.”

“And why was she there?”

“I suppose she had come to find me.”

“Had you met her there previously?”

“We may have done,” Syme said after a moment.

“When?”

“Two days previously.”

“And what happened then?”

There was a long silence.

“We went into the woods.”

“For what purpose?” Giles said, already guessing the answer.

There was another long silence. Syme got up from his chair and turned away before he found the courage to speak.

“She demanded it from me. She insisted. She was like an animal. I had no choice! And after that, that was when I said ‘no more!’”

“Where in the woods?”

“Does it matter?” Syme said.

“Yes, very much,” said Giles. “Sit down again, please.” Syme obeyed. “Where?”

“We went to the Pleasure Gardens.”

“Whereabouts?”

“There is a little rustic shelter, in that part where all the yews are cut in strange shapes.”

“So three nights before Miss Jones is discovered drowned in the pool in the Pleasure Gardens you were having congress with her in the rustic hut not twenty five yards away. Yes?”

“Yes,” Syme said.

“And how did you know about this convenient rustic hut?”

“We... we had been there before.”

“I see. And did you go there again? Well, sir? On the night in question, before she died?”

Syme looked up at him, with a pitiful expression.

“Yes. We did,” he said. Then he got up, strode over to the bedside and took up his bible. “But I swear to you sir,” he said, clutching the book to his chest, “on the Holy Bible, that she was alive when we parted. I did not murder her. I may have wanted to, Lord forgive me, but I did not!”

“Tell me how it was that you left her then,” Giles said.

“She was sitting on the bench. She was laughing at me. She said I was a dirty fellow and that she should ask me for a sovereign for her trouble in future.”

“That would be provoking,” Giles said mildly. “Given her earlier conduct towards you.”