Liar...
I was relieved that my housekeeper was not at the door to inquire about the evening, or the meeting at the Agency, or Brodie once again as she had several times since my return from my aunt’s safari travels.
It was quite late. I went up to my room, undressed, and promptly lay awake for the next several hours.
I finally gave up, rose, and went back down to the front parlor where I kept my writing desk.
I spent the next few hours making notes regarding Sir Collingwood’s disappearance.
Brodie and I were to make the usual inquiries, yet after that meeting at the Tower it could hardly be said that we were working together.
For once that nagging little voice was silent.
My housekeeper, Mrs. Ryan, eventually appeared with coffee and warm biscuits. I informed her that I would be leaving soon with no certainty when I would be returning. I caught the arch of her eyebrows.
“And Mr. Brodie?” she inquired.
“He has a new case. His return is uncertain as well.” I left it with that simple explanation, the less said the better.
When I had dressed and packed my carpet bag, I telephoned for a driver to take me to the rail station.
I then placed a call to Sussex Square and learned that my great-aunt and Lily had returned as well, by motor car for part of the distance. I cringed at the thought.
“Mr. Stewart was most accommodating and making a trip to Edinburgh as well,” she explained.
The motor car was a fairly recent acquisition, and she was absolutely fascinated by it. However, the roadways in Scotland, no more than coach roads, were quite dangerous.
It did seem that caution had prevailed, and she and Lily had caught the train in Edinburgh to London.
“The weather had begun to set in quite thick at Old Lodge, and Mr. Hutton suggested we return or we might be there for weeks. And I do need to meet with your sister about wedding plans. I do hope you will be available as well.”
Of course. I did, however, let her know that I would be gone for a few days.
“Hmmm, yes, Sandringham is it?” she commented over the telephone. “I had heard that His Highness had returned somewhat abruptly from his usual stay with friends.”
Why, I thought, was I surprised that she was so well informed, most particularly where the royal family was concerned? And in spite of Sir Avery’s insistence on absolute secrecy from everyone involved.
“Most interesting,” she continued, then added, “Lily and I will be quite well occupied until your return. With Mr. Munro’s guidance, I will be contacting Mr. Thurkle regarding a new sword I am thinking of acquiring for Lily. She must have her own for protection for whenever she is out and about.”
Edward Turkle, sword-maker of the finest military blades.
“Do let us know when you have returned, dear.”
Thank heavens for Mr. Munro, I thought. My great-aunt and Lily were in safe hands.
With arrangements made, I departed for St. Pancras rail station when the driver arrived.
Four
I toldmyself that it mattered not if Brodie wasn’t there.
If not, if some matter had delayed him—a new inquiry case perhaps, then I would simply carry on to Sandringham on my own.
All very well and good. I should have known better.
He was there with that usual diligence from having served with the MET, accompanied by Alex Sinclair who had brought final instructions from Sir Avery as he handed us our travel tickets.
“There is a telegraph office at the rail station at Wolferton which is very near Sandringham if you should need to make contact with the Agency.” He looked from me to Brodie, then continued.
