I left Mayfair early.
Brodie had not returned the night before.
While I had hoped that he would so that I might learn if he had been able to obtain any information about the murder of Constable Martin, I was well aware that questioning peoplewas tedious work and often looked upon with suspicion. Most particularly when someone had been murdered, as I had learned in the past.
There were those who knew nothing, those who might cooperate with some bit of information, and those who would refuse to provide any information, particularly with the murderer still out there somewhere.
The weather had hardly improved over the day before, the roadway awash with flotsam that included remnants of garbage, soggy day-old newspapers, and the usual clogged traffic as carts and coaches slowly proceeded, then abruptly stopped, until I was convinced it would have been far quicker afoot.
However, the driver cautioned me against it.
“You don’t want to be out and about in this,” he said as I inquired if another route might be more expedient.
He shook his head. “It’s worse on the side streets. Best to keep to the main roadway.”
The flooding was not an unusual occurrence after a heavy rain. At least the Strand was far enough from the river that we didn’t have bodies washing up on the sidewalks.
I took out my notebook and read back over the notes I had made the previous day.
I’d learned of nothing suspicious while questioning the servants during my initial visit, nor my inspection of the servant’s quarter or the Ambersley private rooms.
All of the servants were long-time members of the Ambersley staff, although I knew well enough that a change in one’s personal circumstances might provide a motive. Still, there was not a servant recently replaced, nor had one left suddenly over some complaint.
Kitty Ambersley had provided a list of her dinner guests from the night of the supper party. It had been a small affair with only two gentlemen and their wives joining them.
I was doubtful there would be any help there, as both guests were well-placed and known to be quite wealthy as well. In spite of the value of the necklace, it did seem that neither one or the other had a need to take to thievery. They could well afford to purchase such an item for themselves.
Still, it was important to ‘turn over every stone’ in the effort to learn what had happened to the necklace.
I had discovered that one never knew the true nature of a person that might be hidden from others. And I was determined to see the matter through by taking the usual steps in an inquiry case.
I had placed telephone calls from the townhouse to the residence of Lord Anthony Longridge as well as Sir William Atherton before leaving and requested a meeting with each of the ladies regarding that evening.
I had an appointment with Lady Longridge later this morning, and another with Lady Atherton in the early afternoon.
We eventually arrived at the office on the Strand without mishap. I paid the driver as Mr. Cavendish navigated the sidewalk and greeted me.
“Thought you might choose to stay at the townhouse with this nasty bit of flooding. That was a downpour last night, and it seems the city people in their fine offices have a problem with the street backing up all the way to the park. The hound had to swim across earlier.”
No doubt a bit of an exaggeration, yet there were still several inches of water washing against the curb at the street. A frequent occurrence in the midst of winter in spite of the sewer system that was celebrated to have solved the flooding from the Thames.
“I hope you were not washed out of the alcove,” I told Mr. Cavendish. It could have been very difficult him to navigate several inches of water.
“Not at all, miss. As the weather set in, me and the hound set off for the Public House, then to the flat after.”
The flat was a new accommodation for him after his marriage in December to Miss Effie, who worked at the Public House. She had moved to a ground-floor flat that came available prior to the wedding and prevailed upon the building owner to install a ramp for Mr. Cavendish’s use. The flat was very near the office.
“Though the hound wasn’t too keen on remaining the night. He was pacing the place, so Effie let him out. The animal does prefer the street.”
Said animal had emerged from the alcove that was part of the building and usually remained relatively dry during weather. Relative, that is, considering Rupert’s comings and goings.
He had started up the stairs then stopped midway and appeared to be waiting for me to follow.
“Did Mr. Brodie return last night?” I inquired of Mr. Cavendish.
“Not before I set out for the Public House, miss.”
I thanked him and would have taken the lift, recently installed for ease of reaching the second and third floors of the building. We were progressing into the modern era in spite of Brodie’s insistence that it was not necessary—the lift that is.
