Mrs. Macomber nodded; she lowered her head and applied her lace-edged handkerchief to her eyes.
Penelope arched a brow at Stokes, clearly asking if he had more questions.
Stokes shook his head.
Constance turned to Pearl and spoke in a low murmur. “Stay with her. I’ll tell Vine to remain on guard outside the door. Until we have the murderer by the heels.”
“Indeed, Miss Constance,” Pearl grimly replied. “You can count on us to keep the old lady safe.” Pearl glanced across the room at the chaperon. “A sniffly thing, she is, but she’s got a good heart, and she’s not a pea-brain, either—she just sometimes sounds like one.”
That was a ruthlessly accurate observation. Constance kept her response to a nod. She turned to find Penelope taking her leave of Mrs. Macomber.
From beside the door, Stokes gravely inclined his head to the chaperon. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Macomber. We’ll leave you in peace.”
“Thank you, Inspector.” Mrs. Macomber spoke with greater strength than she’d displayed to that point. “I hope you find your man in short order.”
On that note, Stokes, Penelope, and Constance quit the room.
In the corridor, Constance paused to tell Vine that his services as guard were still required.
“Aye, miss. I’ll stay right here.” Vine grinned. “The maids bring me up my tea and dinner, so all’s right in my world.”
Constance arched her brows at him in affectionate warning, then walked to where Stokes and Penelope had halted a few paces along the corridor.
“We should look in on the others,” Stokes said, “and let them know they need to keep an eye out for a canary-yellow ribbon—wrapped around letters or not. And that they should check any letters they find to make sure they aren’t addressed to Glynis.”
To Constance, Stokes seemed edgy. Not nervous but restless—wanting to get on. She nodded and pointed. “Percy’s room is that way. They were going to start in there.”
* * *
Barnaby and Alaric were searching the antechamber of Percy’s room in a rather desultory fashion. The activity was, after all, all for show; they didn’t expect to find anything—they just had to go through the motions before they moved on to the other gentleman suspects’ rooms.
Percy’s room was the master suite of the Hall. It was a long room with a partition dividing it into an antechamber with armchairs before the hearth and various pieces of furniture, such as a wardrobe and sideboard, dotted about the walls. A door in the left wall led to a relatively recently constructed bathing chamber. Alaric knew that on the other side of the partition, the large four-poster bed sat in all its glory, facing tall windows. There were more chests and tallboys and the nightstands in there, yet to be searched.
Percy had assisted by opening the wardrobe to the left of the door and leaving Barnaby to search it, while Alaric went through the drawers and cupboards of a sideboard against the wall to the door’s right. Percy stood in the middle of the antechamber, watching them and looking around. Alaric noted that Barnaby was watching Percy from the corner of his eye. As was Alaric; why, he didn’t know. He knew Percy wasn’t the murderer and felt confident Barnaby did, too.
Percy looked at Barnaby, then at Alaric, both industriously searching, then Percy shrugged and walked to the archway that led into the bedroom. “I don’t suppose it matters if I help, does it?”
From where he stood, Alaric couldn’t see Percy, but Barnaby turned and, with his gaze, followed Percy as he vanished into the bedroom.
Barnaby continued to watch. Alaric went back to sifting through the papers Percy had shoved into the sideboard’s drawers.
The sound of a drawer being opened in the bedroom reached his ears.
“Oh my God!” came from Percy.
Alaric looked up to see Barnaby striding for the bedroom.
“I say!” Percy exclaimed.
Quitting the sideboard, Alaric followed Barnaby. He found him with Percy in front of a tallboy against the wall. Both were peering into the top right-hand drawer.
As Alaric joined them, Barnaby reached into the drawer and drew out a bundle of letters tied with a bright-yellow ribbon.
Percy was gabbling, “But—but—they weren’t there! They weren’t there this morning.” He wrung his hands.
Barnaby and Alaric exchanged a look. They believed Percy; his horrified shock was all too genuine.
Then Alaric frowned and looked at Percy. “How can you be sure?”
