“When was this area last cleaned?”
“The morning after the celebration for His Highness’s birthday, sir. Upon instructions by her Highness, the Princess of Wales.”
Brodie nodded. That was not unexpected.
“Were ye present that evenin’ when the accident occurred?”
“Only afterward, sir, when it became known what had happened, as there was quite an upset among the servants.”
No help there if the man was telling the truth, which he had no reason to doubt.
“Did ye see anyone about who might not have seemed to be one of the guests and then fled after the accident?”
The man shook his head. “As I said, I was not present. It took me several moments to arrive after I heard sounds from the saloon below. A dreadful situation, if I may say, sir. Is there anything else?”
“That will be all. I thank ye for yer time.”
Brodie slowly inspected the landing and the hallway at the balustrade where the “accident” had taken place.
The presence of dried blood would seem to be from that night. It was unfortunate, but not surprising, that nothing else was found that might tell him something since the area had already been cleaned.
He imagined what had taken place there, from the description Lily had provided—the startled guests as young Huntingdon had struggled with his attacker, the moment he had been overcome and had fallen, and the attacker had fled to the end of the hallway, then down the servants’ stairs to the main floor.
Lily had gone after the man and followed him across the green to the stables and carriage park. Only one other person, a servant who served champagne to the guests, thought he might have seen the man in the sketch.
“It was just a glimpse and then he was gone.”
A chance encounter that lasted only seconds, and then the man was gone.
What were young Huntingdon’s thoughts as they struggled? Had he recognized his attacker. Was the other man injured in the confrontation?
Lily said that the killer seemed to favor his left leg. Or was it from a previous injury?
As Brodie knew from his own time on the streets, when it was over and he’d managed to send young Huntingdon over the balustrade to his death below, there would have been a moment, perhaps two, afterward when the attacker might have hesitated.
That was when Lily had come upon him.
Had he been afraid then that he might be caught? Or had there been no emotion at all, no remorse for the young man he’d just sent to his death?
There was one thing Brodie was certain of, the murder hadn’t been random, for robbery or some other injustice. It had been deliberate. But for what reason? To send a message with that note? What did it mean?
There had been two deaths, apparently connected with those notes.
There was most definitely more to this than the Prince of Wales had shared with them.
He took a long look about for anything he might have missed, then returned downstairs to call on the head groom at the stables who might be able to tell him something about that night.
Nine
THE STRAND
Lily and Ispent several hours at the Times newspaper archives. I was familiar with the archives from previous visits in other cases. Most past issues of the dailies had been archived on film with a cataloguing system by date and could be viewed on microfilm reading screens, much like a camera.
However, for far older issues, if they even still existed, it could be a long and tedious process with many dates no longer available due to loss or faded issues that were impossible to photograph.
Lily had accompanied me previously, yet that had been when she was somewhat younger, after first arriving in London, and had become easily bored with the search for information. This time was different.
She had a sharp mind, excellent memory and deductive quality, and certainly wasn’t intimidated by some of the things she had encountered. No doubt owing to her somewhat precarious early years in an Edinburgh brothel.
