“Ah, the belt is broken,” Eustace said. “The axe was tucked into the belt, like so, but the murderer must have wrenched it away from its position so forcefully that it broke the belt. But that was where I put it.”
“So anyone could have taken it,” Michael said, with a sigh. “And how was it that none of the servants recognised it? Someone must have dusted the display, after all, but I suppose they do not pay much attention. When was the axe placed here?”
“Oh… perhaps a week or so before the murder. Maybe ten days. That was when I last rearranged the display. I change them about every few months, for my own amusement — no one else cares. They are due for another change quite soon.”
“Please do not rearrange anything!” Michael said sharply. “At least, not until we have the murderer safely in custody.”
“Oh, of course. I can give you the provenance of all the items on display. The pike and two of the swords are from the armoury here, and the rest are my own.”
“That is a fine broadsword,” Michael said, running his fingers appreciatively over the hilt. “May I?”
“Of course. A man who carries his own sword at all times is clearly a connoisseur.”
Carefully, Michael drew the sword from its holder, admiring the delicate metalwork of the hilt and the sturdy blade. “Ah, Hounslow made, I see. Civil War?”
“Very likely. Now this one… well, what do you think?”
“French? Much more recent, of course.”
“1745. Have you seen the Russian one in the armoury?”
“With the bird’s head pommel? Yes! A fine piece.”
And somehow, by wandering around the great hall and then to the armoury, two hours drifted by in the pleasurable discussion of swords. Eustace was quite willing to fetch anything from the walls that Michael wanted to try out, which turned out to be a great many of them. He had seldom been so well entertained within the confines of Corland Castle before.
“You like him, I think,” Sandy said, as they locked away their notes later that day.
“He is very knowledgeable,” Michael said with a shrug.
“Is he a suspect? He was twelve miles away when Nicholson was murdered, tucked up in his bed with a female, which would be easy enough to verify. He did not even wake until close to ten o’clock. Or so he says.”
“For a moment there you had me worried, Sandy,” Michael said with a grin. “Everyoneis to be held in suspicion, at least until we have independent verification of their whereabouts. And there is something distasteful in a man who points a finger at his own brother.”
“He said he was sure it couldnae be him,” Sandy said.
“Nevertheless, he has raised the suspicion in our minds. Lord Birtwell was the first person to reach the deceased — perhaps he was already up and about, eh? But Mr Eustace told us about Farramont, which no one else saw fit to mention, so we must be grateful for that little gem.”
“Aye, that’s true enough. Tis an odd thing, though, that he knows everything that goes on in a house that’s not his own.”
“The servants’ gossip, I expect,” Michael said with a shrug. “Very useful for us, though. We can use Mr Eustace as an extra pair of eyes and ears. He has invited me to view his collection of weapons at Welwood-on-the-hill, so I shall take the opportunity to see what more gems he might have for us. And if I can borrow a carriage, I can take Neate as my groom and he can snoop around the stables, and see what he can find out.”
***
Michael stood on the main stairs, gazing at the armour display. The axe had been tied roughly into the position it would have occupied before the belt had been broken. On either side of him, the housekeeper and the housemaid responsible for the stairs both shook their heads.
“I never saw it there, and that’s a fact,” the housekeeper said firmly.
“I don’trememberno axe,” the housemaid said, dubiously. “But if Mr Eustace says it were there—”
“I expect he’s misremembering,” the housekeeper said. “Most likely it was somewhere else altogether. These things are scattered all over the house, so how he can remember where one is in particular beats me.”
Michael nodded as if in agreement. To the maid, he said, “You clean the stairs every morning, is that right?”
“Aye, sir.”
“But early, before it is light, perhaps? Too dark to see anything clearly.”
“No, sir, sun’s well up at this time o’ year. There’s plenty o’ light on the stairs from the glass roof.”
