Barnaby caught Penelope’s eye as she glanced back at him. “I’m not sure we need to postulate that Glynis told Rosa anything. She sighted the gentleman in poor light, then—if I’m correctly interpreting what occurred in the corridor outside the billiard room—she saw him again in better light and recognized him then…” He paused, then tipped his head. “Or at least the possibility of who the murderer was occurred to her. She might not have been sufficiently sure, so she held her tongue, perhaps thinking to see him again to be certain before she made any accusation.”
“Hmm.” Penelope faced forward. After a moment, she said, “While all that is true, I still think two ladies sharing a room would have gossiped, and it’s possible Glynis was sitting on some piece of prime, gossip-worthy material.”
Stokes was content to let the couple bounce ideas back and forth; despite his years dealing with crimes in these circles, their grasp of society and the likely behavior of the people who moved within it was infinitely greater than his.
Yet in Stokes’s experience, the minds and motives of villains didn’t differ much class to class. “Viewing events from the killer’s perspective, he didn’t know Rosa had seen him leaving the shrubbery, so didn’t immediately seek to silence her. He must have received a rude shock when, the next day, she revealed that she had—he must have nearly panicked then—but virtually in the same breath, she revealed she hadn’t seen him well enough to identify him, making her no threat to him and not someone he needed to do anything about.” He frowned. “His emotions had to have swung from smug assurance to panic and then back again, but no one noticed any overt reaction.”
Barnaby nodded. “Our murderer is a very cool customer. For whatever reason, Glynis was his target. He wouldn’t have harmed Rosa, except—”
“For that moment in the corridor.” Penelope led them across the entrance to the gallery. “Something—something unexpected by both Rosa and our villain—opened Rosa’s eyes. Or at least, she reacted in a manner that made the villain think so. That’s why he killed her.”
“And he did so quickly, coolly, and efficiently.” Barnaby frowned. “I can certainly see Rosa noticing something that tipped her off as to his identity, but…” They paused at the head of the ladies’ wing. Barnaby looked at Penelope, then glanced at Stokes. “What I’m not so clear about is how did he know? What caused him to think that Rosa had—or might have—realized who he was? She didn’t join the company in the drawing room.”
Penelope’s eyes narrowed, and her chin firmed. “We need to ask more questions about what happened in that corridor.”
Her frown deepened, then she humphed, swung on her heel, and led the way down the wing.
She glanced at her sketch as she went, then pointed to a door almost at the end. “That’s the room.”
She paused before the door. Instinctively, Barnaby reached past her and turned the knob.
Stokes was still reaching for the key in his pocket when Barnaby shot him a surprised look and sent the supposedly locked door swinging wide.
Their surprise wasn’t half that of Percy Mandeville; he stood frozen, hovering over the open drawer of the nightstand beside one of the two beds. He’d obviously been searching.
Stokes, Barnaby, and Penelope remained clustered in the doorway, Stokes looking over Penelope’s head; none of them said a word.
“Ah…er…” Percy stared at them much in the manner of a startled sheep. Then he straightened and swallowed and tugged at his cravat. “I say—I was just…well, searching. I realized you hadn’t searched in here—for any clues or whatever there might be. Indications of who might have been in here…well, other than Rosa and Glynis, of course. And I suppose the maids, as well. But…” He hauled in a breath, then gestured, encompassing the room. “You know what I mean, of course. You’re the experts.” He stopped talking and stared at them, panic very close to his surface if the way he wrung his hands was any guide.
Penelope finally walked into the room. Her gaze on Mandeville, in a conversational tone, she inquired, “Did you find anything?”
“Er…” Percy looked around, as if hoping something useful might magically appear. “Ah, no. I mean”—he pointed to a slim volume on the nightstand by the second bed—“that’s Rosa’s address book, but I haven’t looked through it.”
Stokes took that to mean that Percy had been searching the nightstand Glynis Johnson had used.
“I…ah…” Percy gulped in a breath and, apparently, managed to engage his brain. “It occurred to me that as the host and owner of this house, I should make a greater effort to assist the police. Scotland Yard, that is.” His gaze darted from Stokes to Barnaby, then settled on Penelope. “There’s only so many of you, after all, and so many guests to interview. I thought I’d do my bit and see if there was anything to be found.”
Barnaby shot Stokes a glance, then looked back at Percy and inclined his head. “For which we thank you. However, as we’re here now, we’ll take over the search. You have your guests to attend to, after all.”
“Yes. Of course. I didn’t mean to suggest…” Without looking down, Percy nudged the nightstand drawer closed with his knee, then edged toward the door. “And yes, I really should see to my guests. If you’ll excuse me?” He bobbed and nodded to Penelope. “Mrs. Adair.” He nodded vaguely toward Barnaby and even more vaguely to Stokes. “Adair. Inspector.”
His expression impassive, Stokes stepped aside and allowed Percy to flee through the door.
The three of them stood and listened to his footsteps as he strode rapidly down the corridor. Then his steps faltered and halted, but after a second, started up again, even more rapidly than before. A moment later, they heard him clattering down the main stairs.
His brows rising, Stokes reached out and shut the door. “Evidently, Percy Mandeville should be a lot higher on our suspect list.”
Barnaby wrinkled his nose. “Alaric’s certain Percy isn’t our man, and whether he acknowledges it or not, Alaric Radleigh is a very astute judge of character.”
“Be that as it may,” Stokes said, hands rising to his hips as he surveyed the room, “Mandeville was here searching for something. And while I admit we have nothing by way of motive linking him to either lady, I suspect that if we ransack this room, we might well find something.”
Penelope arched her brows but, for once, didn’t argue. The three of them exchanged a long glance, then they turned and set to.
* * *
Alaric reached the edge of the croquet lawn to discover that Percy had vanished.
“Think he went back to the house,” Monty offered. “Said there was something he had to check.”
