“He likely is the murderer, though, Mama,” said Cassandra. “So, that is why, when we write to the magistrate, everything will be taken care of.”
“I think we should go back to the Welling household,” said Byron.
“Yes,” said Jane. “Just to try to get to the bottom of this. If we’re writing to the magistrate, we must have an accurate picture of what happened, after all.”
“So, you go and get yourself captured and badly treated, and you go and put yourself in danger rescuing him,” said Cassandra, pointing first at Byron and then at Jane, “and now, it’s all just happening again, is it? You’re back to delving into all this?”
Jane looked down into her plate, bowing her head. She did not look at Byron. “I did say I would stop all this.”
“Yes, you were very firm,” said Byron, nodding at her. “But I have to say that you said all this before I was taken captive and badly abused—”
“Well, that can’t be a reason for Jane to accompany you now!” exclaimed Cassandra.
“He said he wouldn’t have done it if Miss Jane had been there,” rejoined Byron. “So, for my own safety, truly, I think we must go together and speak to Mr. Welling. I cannot go on my own, not without you. It would be too dangerous.”
“You are appalling,” said Cassandra, shaking her head at him, but there wasn’t truly much rancor in her voice.
“I know,” said Byron. “I do keep trying to belessappalling, I really do, but I never seem to manage it.”
“THE LADDER?” SAIDMr. Welling. “Yes, I did realize it was my ladder that next day.”
Byron and Jane were in Mr. Welling’s sitting room, clutching cups of tea. It was midmorning, far too early for callers, and Mr. Welling was not pleased about it. His wife was not even dressed, her hair still in rags for curling, sitting up at a desk in her dressing gown going through letters.
They knew this because Mrs. Welling’s voice carried down the stairs when she cried, “Heavens, visitors at this hour, and me with my hair still in curling rags and in my dressing gown going through letters. You’ll have to speak to them, Ronald!”
Mr. Welling was not seated. He was standing behind a couch, leaning over it, holding onto the back. “And the only reason I saw that ladder was because I was going to the tavern to see Miss Seward’s body, which had been laid out, and it only makes sense for us to go this way.” He gestured to the back of his house. “There’s a little through-way with a gate that means we end out on the main street. Otherwise, we’d go out the front and have to walk all the way round, which is blocks and blocks. Much faster to cut through that way. But that way, you see, the back of the tavern is on display there, and Miss Seward’s window, and there was my ladder.”
“Right,” said Byron. “And so, you didn’t put it there.”
“Goodness no,” said Mr. Welling. “In all truth, as I’m sure you’re aware, I personally do not place ladders anywhere. I would direct my staff to do such a thing.”
“And in this case? Did one of your staff place the ladder?” said Jane.
“Well, perhaps,” said Mr. Welling, pushing off the back of the couch and beginning to pace behind it. “But if so, none of them would admit it to me. They all played dumb. I asked, then, if the shed door had been left unlocked, if someone could have come in and taken the ladder themselves, and they all said it was possible, they didn’t know.”
“Right, a random person takes your ladder and climbs up into Miss Seward’s window,” said Byron.
“I don’t think it’s that,” said Mr. Welling. “Here’s what I think. I think whoever put that ladder up there thought they’d be around to get it taken down and wasn’t. So, my feeling is that it was Miss Seward herself who ordered the ladder be put there.”
Byron furrowed his brow.
Jane lifted her chin. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“Only insomuch that Miss Seward is giving orders to your servants,” said Byron.
“Well, it wouldn’t have to have been mine. It could have been her own. Apparently, the shed was unlocked.” Mr. Welling gestured above his head. “Anyway, after we saw the ladder, that night, I had my boys go up and get it and put it back in the shed. So, I have it back now.”
“Would Miss Seward not have her own ladder?” said Jane.
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Welling. “The truth is, though I know we own a ladder, it’s not something I spend much time thinking about. No one comes to me and asks if they can borrow the ladder, you see.”
“Right, who would they come to?” said Byron. “Your butler, perhaps?”
“Perhaps,” said Mr. Welling.
“Well, could we speak to him, then?”
Mr. Welling shrugged at them both. “I suppose. But if he knew this, you’d think he would have told me, do you not?”
