“Oh,” said Mr. Crampton. “Oh, yes, of course.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
JANE AND BYRONput their heads together over the list in Beaumont’s sitting room.
“Well,” said Jane, “I suppose we must simply divide these names into groups, and we can begin to go and speak to each of them, starting tomorrow, I suppose.”
“Yes,” said Byron, “we’ll do exactly that, I think. And somewhere in there, we shall find someone who saw something, I should think. If we are clear and careful, we shall have this all tied up in no time.”
“I do hope so,” said Jane.
“I know it is afternoon, so I should likely be escorting you back to your house soon, I think.”
“I can walk, my lord,” she said. “I have now walked from our house to the Beaumont house more times that I ever thought possible. I am quite adept at it.”
“You will ride, of course, but it’s too far to walk, and—” Byron broke off. He got up from the chair where he was sitting. “You!”
A servant was crossing in front of the door. He stopped and cringed. “Oh, my lord, you are always about, are you not?”
“Come here,” said Byron. “We crave a word with you.”
Jane got up from where she was sitting, leaving the list spread out.
The servant looked as if he would much rather bolt. “I am rather busy, my lord—”
“I shall come over there and drag you in by the ear,” said Byron to the servant, quite severe. He turned to Jane. “This, you see, is the friend-of-the-gardener.”
“Oh,” said Jane. “Yes, please, do come in. We have questions for you.”
The servant heaved a breath and seemed to mouth a few choice words before hanging his head and trooping across the floor toward them both.
“What is your name?” said Jane, hoping to put him a bit more at ease. The way he was acting, she wasn’t sure he wasn’t simply going to lie to them about everything.
“Henry,” said the servant. “Henry Felton.”
“Well, Mr. Felton,” said Jane, “we wish to know, first and foremost, who wanted you to put a ladder against Miss Seward’s window.”
Henry Felton ducked his head lower and said nothing.
“All right,” said Jane. “Perhaps you could at least tell us where it is you work.”
“Why, here, ma’am,” said Felton, raising his gaze to look at her.
“Here,” said Jane. “You work for Mr. Beaumont.” She sat down heavily, for it all suddenly made rather too much sense to her. She licked her lips. “Then it was he who ordered you to put the ladder there.”
Felton said nothing.
“Did he?” said Byron in a low and lethal voice.
Felton’s chest rose and fell with a breath. “I… yes.”
“But you took Mr. Welling’s ladder,” said Jane.
“That was only because I had to find a ladder somewhere,” said Felton.
“And you are a friend of the gardener at the Welling house,” said Jane. “It was just there, very convenient, and so you asked him for it, and he allowed you to do it.”
Felton nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
