There was Kitty Ambersley and her very valuable, still missing necklace. I did have a thought about that, and I was determined to meet with her as soon as possible.
After my third cup of coffee and notes made in my notebook, I placed a telephone call to the Ambersley residence.
I pushed back the somewhat sarcastic thought, not for the first time—who in the world went by the name of ‘Kitty’?
The next thought that followed—who would have a dog named Bitsy carried around in a handbag?
To each their own, I thought.
After all, I preferred the company of a somewhat disreputable hound that liked sponge cake and had a habit of dragging up dead creatures dropped at my feet like a trophy.
It was with that thought in mind that I called for a cab, then dressed for my meeting with Lady Kitty Ambersley.
When Mrs. Ryan announced that the driver had arrived, I took a piece of ham I had not eaten from my breakfast plate, wrapped it in my napkin, and tucked it into my travel bag.
As I did so, my fingers brushed the revolver Brodie insisted that I carry when I was off and about on my own.
There was a fleeting thought that involved Bitsy. I pushed it back.
Upon my arrival at the Ambersley residence, I was greeted by the head butler, who assured me that Lady Ambersley would join me presently.
Tea was provided as I overheard a distant yapping sound that I recognized as Bitsy, who arrived along with Kitty Ambersley and promptly darted past in my direction.
There was a moment where that sharp little gaze met mine, and Bitsy slid to a stop, rude creature that he was.
Not that I think the little bit of fluff was intelligent enough to understand the folly in attacking me once more, although I am convinced that the hound understands a great deal. Anything was possible.
It was a wise move on Bitsy’s part that he then returned to the edge of the carpet and promptly lifted a leg on a Queen Anne chair, which necessitated the summons of a footman to remedy the situation.
My earlier thought returned. I ignored it. This was Kitty Ambersley’s home. She could do with it as she wished.
“Do forgive the situation. He does that when he’s excited.”
Of course.
Over the course of the next hour, I explained my conversations with both ladies who were present at the Ambersley’s supper party.
“Oh, dear. I had so hoped that one of them might have seen something,” Kitty Ambersley commented, with Bitsy at her feet glaring at me.
“What is to be done now?” she inquired.
“I did have a thought in the matter,” I replied. “With your permission?”
“Of course, if it will be useful,” she agreed.
I removed the napkin with the piece of ham wrapped within and dropped it to the carpet. Quick as a wink, Bitsy darted across the space between where we sat, snatched up the napkin, then shot out of the drawing room and down the hallway.
“Oh my,” Kitty Ambersley exclaimed. “Whatever has gotten into him?”
Indeed, I thought, as I quickly followed, and encountered a footman who indicated the direction the little thief had gone.
To say the situation caused quite an uproar is a bit of an understatement. Bitsy was a fast little devil, but I was not about to be outrun.
I ran as I followed his path into the main hall, up the stairs to the second-floor chambers, past a startled maid, who indicated the bed chamber at the end of the hall, and discovered that Bitsy seemed to have disappeared.
This would have been far simpler if I’d brought Rupert with me. However, I couldn’t guarantee the safety of Bitsy if the hound was set upon him.
This was obviously the lady’s bedchamber with an adjoining bathing chamber, a vast closet full of fine clothing. I heard the faint sound of growling as I approached the bed.
