“Well, a local man wouldn’t know that, would he? He’d assume a famous author had money. Wouldn’t you? He’s written a few books that were quite popular, especially his last—The Faded Rose of Wickwood. Have you read it? Very affecting. The missus cried for hours. At all events, driven by worry for his starving children, this would-be thief sneaked up the stairs, struck Mr. George and Mr. Oliver, took what he could find, and left again.”
Listening to Brixton weave his tale, Frederick thought the man had missed his calling. Perhaps he ought to have been a writer of affecting novels himself.
At least he had not mentioned Miss Lane.
Mr. Smith said, “As far as we know, nothing was stolen from the room. Mr. Oliver’s purse containing three and six-pence was on the side table as well as a silver pocket watch.”
Brixton nodded. “Maybe the intruder got scared, realized he’d killed a man when he never meant to, and hied it out of there, taking nothing.”
“Diverting supposition, Mr. Brixton.”
The constable beamed. “Thank you, sir.”
Next, the coroner called on Mr. Mayhew again.
“Have you anything to report after questioning your staff?”
“No, sir, I—”
“You questioned everyone?”
The hotel proprietor sent Frederick an uncertain look.
Frederick had shared his findings with Mr. Mayhew just before entering the coffee room, though there had been little to report, since he’d decided not to mention the page’s claim.
Mayhew shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, as there were so many to question in such a brief amount of time, Sir Frederick Wilford kindly offered to help conduct the interviews.”
The coroner looked over at him, brows lifted in surprise, but not, Frederick thought, disapproval. “How kind.”
“I am staying here and was happy to help.” Frederick shrugged off the praise. “Mr. Mayhew is a busy man.”
“Then perhaps we had better depose you next. I had planned to summon you at some point, as you were the one who discovered the body, were you not?”
Miss Lane had been with him—but would saying so cause the coroner to summon her as well?
Persons present when the crime was committed, along with the finders of the body, were all attached to appear at the trial before the itinerant justices. He did not want to put Miss Lane into a situation where she would feel compelled to lie in a public court.
“That’s right,” Frederick replied. Hehadgone in ahead of her, after all, and been first to see the body.
“Your name and residence?”
“Sir Frederick Wilford, baronet. I live locally, at Wickworth.”
“And were you acquainted with the deceased?”
“I have seen him—here in the hotel dining room, for example. But we never formally met.”
Frederick thought of seeing the man knocking incessantly at Miss Lane’s door. He did not think it relevant to mention, nor worth the risk to her reputation.
“Tell us how you came to find the body.”
“I was in the parlour when I heard a scream and a crash,and ran upstairs to see what the matter was. After ascertaining that Mr. George and Miss Hinton were alive, I then went into room three.”
“Was the door unlocked?”
“No, we borrowed the maid’s key.”
“We?”
