“Politics, my dear,” she had added.“It is said our great ancestor was quite good at it. Of course, in the eleventh century, if there were enemies, one simply had their heads cut off. You have to admit, gruesome as that was, it did effectively resolve quarrels.”
“You have information from your inquiries of Sir Collingwood’s household staff?” Sir Avery now asked.
Brodie went over our initial meeting with the servants, the questions, and their responses.
“It did seem there was nothing out of the ordinary in the man’s behavior, no unusual appointments, no unknown callers he might have met with. Miss Forsythe did, however, learn something curious from his housekeeper.”
There it was again, as if we were merely associates in the business of making inquiries. I forced back the anger that would have been far too easy to indulge as I referred to my notes.
“The woman did mention that before leaving for Sandringham, Sir Collingwood had given each of the servants their weekly envelopes.”
“Not necessarily unusual, as he was to be gone for several days,” Sir Avery pointed out.
“However, on this occasion he paid each of them a full month’s wage,” I added. “He also instructed his housekeeper not to make her usual purchases at the grocer, and a ledger I found at his desk indicated that he had paid all of his bills well in advance. It would seem that he was planning on being gone for some time, or possibly closing his residence.”
Sir Avery frowned as he paced the narrow space beside the desk.
“I called on a friend of mine in the theater,” I added. “She is well acquainted with Angeline Cotillard, the woman who was a guest that weekend.”
I went over everything Templeton had shared with me.
“It seems that she travels with a man, whom she described to me.”
Sir Avery nodded. “That could be important. Is there anything else?”
Brodie looked over at me.
“A note was discovered that Sir Collingwood had apparently attempted to destroy at his residence at some point in time before leaving for Sandringham. Miss Forsythe was able to retrieve some of the information,” he provided.
“What was in the note?”
I handed him my note where I had deciphered those odd bits and pieces that we retrieved from the fireplace.
“It was badly burned, only a few remnants remained. It was handwritten.”
He studied the note.
“Szábo?” He read the name I had written there.
“There was also a street name in Paris.”
He looked up.
“In the Montparnasse.”
“We then spoke with a man in the German community,” Brodie informed him. “It seems that Szábo is known as someone who accommodates certain arrangements. Herr Schmidt has agreed to learn whatever else he can, in exchange for a favor.”
“What might that be?” Sir Avery inquired.
“It seems that his brother-in-law has been denied entry into the country,” Brodie explained.
“And he would like for us to look the other way in exchange for information he might be able to provide about this person, Szábo?” Sir Avery concluded with a frown. “Does the brother-in-law have a name?”
Brodie provided him the information, then inquired about Sir Avery’s meetings with the other guests who were at Sandringham the night Sir Collingwood disappeared.
“It seems that no one saw or heard anything unusual during their stay, most particularly the night that Sir Collingwood disappeared,” he replied.
“Do ye believe them?”
