The coachman nodded. “A noise roused me in the night.”
“What time was that?”
“Late,” Taylor said. “Past midnight. I circled the house with a lantern, checking the doors and windows. Saw naught to worry me.”
He righted an overturned easel and set a damaged painting on it. A large emerald W marred the picture’s center, and the intruder had sliced the canvas from corner to corner, cutting through the subject’s face and cascading auburn curls.
“I’ll see about repairing the window, Miss Mary,” Taylor said. The coachman passed Julia, touching the brim of his cap.
Julia stepped across the threshold. “I’m so sorry.”
Mary raised her hands and dropped them, her shoulders sagging. Then she turned back to the policeman. “Are we nearly finished?”
“Just a few more questions, Miss Allingham. Have you or your servants noticed any strangers in the neighborhood?”
“I haven’t, but you might ask our housekeeper, Mrs. Drew.”
He made a note of the name. “No quarrels with tradesmen? No one else with a grudge against you or your family?”
Mary’s gaze slid to the damaged painting. A few seconds ticked by before she shook her head. The constable lookedsurprisingly young, barely out of the schoolroom. His tunic’s collar seemed too large for his neck, as if he planned to grow into it.There’s something Mary’s not saying,Julia thought. A more seasoned copper would have spotted her hesitation.
The policeman closed his notepad and strapped on his helmet. “Thank you, Miss Allingham. I’d like to speak to the housekeeper before I leave.”
While Julia waited for Mary to return, she studied a large, undamaged painting leaning against the wall. In the foreground, an auburn-haired woman reclined on a green velvet settee, her left arm stretched across the backrest. The subject sat in profile, dressed in creamy lace and pearls, the high collar of her gown skimming her earlobe.
Crunching glass announced Mary’s return. “It’s calledRepose,of all things.” She laughed hollowly. “I’d been brooding over it, so it was upstairs in my bedroom.”
“Thank goodness for that. It’s striking.”
“Mister Taylor carried it down for me this morning. That’s when we found . . .” Mary buried her face in her hands, shaking.
Julia plucked a wrap from its peg and draped it across Mary’s shoulders. “Come. Let’s sit.” She led her to a pair of chairs.
“I’m sorry to be so feeble,” Mary said, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping her eyes.
“Feeble? No. All this after yesterday?” Julia smiled. “At least on that score I have some good news. Your brother’s pulse, temperature, and reflexes are all normal. His color is good, and his lungs are clear. He was quite proud of himself when he walked the length of the hallway and back, showing no signs of dizziness or excessive fatigue.”
“Thank God.”
“Mister Allingham asked for his wife. He became quite agitated when I explained she was resting after nursing him all night. He was calmer when I left him, but you may want your brother’s doctor to examine him, too.”
“Is there still some danger?”
“I’ve no reason to think so, but I’m afraid my examination wasn’t as thorough as I wished.” Julia smiled. “Your brother clutched his nightshirt like a bashful maiden when I tried to unbutton it.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“Not an unusual reaction, I assure you. All in all, he’s a lucky man.”
“As am I.” Mary shuddered and drew the wrap tighter. “I would have been out on the ice, too, but for a pair of balky skates. That’s another thought that keeps me awake.”
“This should help you.” Julia removed a small envelope from her medical bag. “Dissolve this powder in water and drink it shortly before you retire. May I return tomorrow morning? One last visit to assure myself that all is well?”
“Yes, please. That’s kind of you.”
“Now, what would you like to do? Wait until tomorrow to deal with the studio?”
Mary shook her head. “The thought of someone here, touching my things, pulling out a knife . . . the hatefulness of it. The sooner it’s cleared away, the better.”
