He stood beside the table where he’d placed the sketch so that the man would see it straight away. Much the same as he had when he was an inspector with the MET and placed a piece of evidence where it could be easily seen by those he questioned and perhaps bring a reaction.
It might help Mr. Burgess remember an encounter with the man that evening—that in itself might reveal something important.
He looked up then as the man arrived. He wore a formal suit of clothes: coat, white shirt with cravat and striped charcoal trousers. His face was devoid of expression.
“Good morning, sir,” the man greeted him. “I am Mr. Burgess, Steward at Marlborough House. His Royal Highness has informed me that I am to provide all cooperation for your visit.”
He caught Burgess’s glance at the sketch, then the quick glance at him.
Most interesting, Brodie thought. Had the man recognized the person in the sketch? It perhaps meant nothing. Or something?
“I appreciate His Highness’s assistance in the matter,” he replied. “Shall we begin?”
Speaking with a good number of people was always a tedious, time-consuming task. However, Mr. Burgess was able to shorten the matter by providing a list of servants who were present among the guests on the main floor that night in the usual performance of their duties for such an event.
The hours passed as, one by one, those summoned appeared, studied the sketch and then answered his questions.
Did they recognize the man in the sketch? Do they remember seeing anyone that resembled him that night? Was there anything that night that seemed unusual among the guests? Perhaps someone seen some place where they shouldn’t have been?
The answers were invariably the same. No one had seen anything unusual, although more than one mentioned that it might be impossible to see any particular person with so many guests about.
Yet, more than one mentioned the upset when the young man fell from the balustrade on the second floor.
“Did ye perhaps see anything unusual sometime other than the incident?” he repeatedly asked. It seemed that no one had seen anything other than the reaction among the guests.
He asked the last young man he questioned to inform Mr. Burgess that he wanted to inspect the place where the “accident,” as it was called, had occurred.
He also wanted to speak with the head groomsman who was present the night of the attack on the young man. It was possible the servant might have seen something as the attacker fled the mansion with Lily in pursuit.
As Mr. Burgess was apparently delayed with some matter, Brodie left that small room beside the library. He tucked his notepad with those few notes that he’d made into his coat pocket, then made his way to the hall where the celebration had taken place.
There hadn’t been an opportunity to inspect the location the evening of the incident.
The stairway and the landing were carpeted over marble, as was the hallway that led to other rooms where some guests had gathered that night. The balustrade where the young man had fallen looked down over the saloon below which had been filled with other guests that night.
The railing had held but had been loosened as the young man obviously struggled with his attacker, with several places where the wood post had splintered and threatened to give way.
The area had obviously been cleaned since that night, with traces of a carpet sweeper on the carpet that lined the hall, though repairs to the balustrade had obviously not been made yet.
He frowned at what appeared to be a stain on a decorative ironwork crossmember that connected an elaborate design to the wood.
He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it across the ironwork. Although the stain had long since dried, it very much appeared to be blood.
“Do be careful sir.”
An older man in that same uniform of royal staff cautioned.
“His Highness has ordered it repaired. The carpenter and his men were to see to it this morning, but they were needed elsewhere first. Repairs will be made today to prevent any further accidents.”
An accident? An interesting choice of words. It did seem that, as far as the servants were concerned, that is what the situation was to be considered.
“Were ye here the evening of the accident?” Brodie inquired as he had not previously spoken with the man.
“I am steward of the second floor, sir. It is my responsibility to see that the servants complete their daily tasks at Marlborough House for His Highness and his family.”
Brodie introduced himself and the reason he was there.
“Of course,” the head steward replied. “We were informed that you would be arriving and making inquiries.”
