“I was afraid catching him would not be as simple as perusing a guest list,” Benedict said. He looked at Logan. “Saw your man keeping watch from the park.”
“Constable Wiggins,” Logan said. “Quite reliable. He’ll be there until dawn. Mrs. Houston was kind enough to send coffee and a muffin out to him earlier.”
Amity noticed that there was a low fire burning on the hearth. In addition to the unfinished brandy that Logan had just set aside, there was another half-empty glass on Penny’s desk. It was all very cozy, very comfortable, very interesting.
Penny frowned in sudden concern. “Was there a problem?”
“It is a long story, Penny,” Amity said. “I promise I will tell you everything.”
Logan glanced at the clock. “It’s past time I took myself off. I will notify all of you at once if there is any news.” He smiled at Penny. “Good night, Mrs. Marsden. Thank you for the brandy.”
“You are welcome, sir,” Penny said. “Thank you for the company.”
Benedict stirred in the doorway. “I have a cab waiting in the street, Logan. I’ll be happy to give you a ride to your address.”
Surprise came and went on Logan’s face. “That is kind of you, Mr. Stanbridge, but unnecessary. I’m sure I will find a hansom within a few blocks.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Benedict said. “We can discuss the names on that guest list.”
Logan appeared satisfied that the offer of a cab ride would result in a discussion of the case. He relaxed. “Very well, then. I accept. Thank you.”
Benedict turned to Penny and Amity. “Good night, ladies. I will call tomorrow.”
The two men disappeared down the hall. A moment later Amity heard the front door close.
Penny peered intently at Amity. “What in the world happened tonight?”
“The notebook that Benedict—Mr. Stanbridge—brought back from California was stolen from his uncle’s safe sometime this evening,” Amity said. “The intruder bashed poor Cornelius Stanbridge over the head.”
She went to the small table where the brandy decanter stood and poured herself a healthy glass of spirits. She sank down into the chair that Logan had just vacated, propped her heels on the hassock and swallowed some of the brandy.
She gave Penny a quick summary of events.
“In short the intruder intends to sell the notebook back to Cornelius Stanbridge,” she concluded. “Stanbridge hopes to set a trap for the thief.”
“I see.” Penny looked at her across the width of the desk. “This affair of the solar cannon and the engine system is causing no end of trouble.”
“Fortunately, it is Cornelius Stanbridge’s problem now. When he is feeling better I will provide him with what few observations I can offer concerning the passengers on board theNorthern Star, but I really don’t think there is anything else I can do to assist him. He has the passenger list. It will be up to him to research the individuals on board, always assuming the spy was on theStar, which is problematic, to say the least. A number of ships stop at St. Clare.”
“How odd that in both cases we are examining lists of names,” Penny said.
“Yes.” Amity took another sip of the brandy, savoring the warmth. “But I suppose that is what any type of criminal investigation comes down to—a list of names of possible suspects.” She held her brandy glass to the firelight and studied the way the flames turned the spirits to liquid gold. “Is that what you and Inspector Logan were discussing when Benedict and I arrived a few minutes ago? Suspects from the Channing guest list?”
Penny went very still. “In part, yes. But Inspector Logan was mostly interested in the scandals surrounding the other victims of the Bridegroom. I was able to provide some information.”
“Did you come up with anything helpful?”
“I was able to confirm what he already knew—that all four of the women who were murdered came from high-ranking families that moved in polite circles and that each young lady had been tainted by a scandal of a romantic nature.” Penny hesitated. “The discussion did make me aware of one very important thing, however.”
Amity paused the brandy glass halfway to her mouth. “Really? What was that?”
“You would not have been thrust into that rarified world if it had not been for my marriage to Nigel Marsden.”
Amity set the brandy glass down abruptly. “For heaven’s sake, Penny, you must not say things like that.”
“Why not?” Penny got to her feet and went to stand in front of the fireplace. “It is the truth. Your association with Mr. Stanbridge would have gone unremarked in Society had it not been for your connection to me and the Marsden name.”
“Good heavens, it is not your fault that I came to the attention of the Bridegroom. It was a combination of my essays in theFlying Intelligencerand someone’s gossiping tongue that made the killer aware of me.”
