“Other ways in and out?” Brewster repeated with incredulity. “Huh. Place is a warren. Cellars with tunnels leading out into the fields, or doubling back into the house. Stands to reason—an old place like that, with all the wars what have happened around these parts. Lords and ladies want to make sure they can get things in and out while everyone is shooting at their front door, don’t they?”
“Then someone could slip out of the house unnoticed?”
“Course they could, if they knew the way. It’s why the comte has so many guards. I wager the local thieves know their way about.”
But would Signora Ruggeri? I wondered. She might, of course, have had an accomplice to show her the way. But Signora Ruggeri never intended to spend the night in that house, at least not as the guest of the comtesse, so would she have had time to put the accomplice in place?
What the devil had been Signora Ruggeri’s intentions? To embarrass the comte or the comtesse? To stake her claim to the comte’s riches? She must know by now that the comte would never marry her unless the comtesse was deceased. Even then he’d likely hesitate because of Signora Ruggeri’s origins.
Had her intentions been more sinister? Perhaps to somehow eliminate her rival?
The comtesse appeared to be a very shrewd woman, and I hoped she’d considered this possibility.
“You truly believe Gallo had another hiding place for whatever secrets he’d gathered?” I asked as we trudged on.
“He were a foreigner, weren’t he?” Brewster said. “The police here get into everyone’s business, so he’d never know when they were going to come in and toss the place. Or if his landlady would come snooping. She looked like a right villain herself. So Gallo hides his things where a casual search ain’t going to turn up much. He likely had a good clear-out at some point, and moved whatever he kept there somewhere he thought was safer.”
“But didn’t have time to take away the letter and paper he’d stashed in the fireplace?” I asked. “Or perhaps he thought them secure there?”
“Could be. Or could be, if they were found, they wouldn’t mean nothing. A name none of us recognized. I’m thinking the letter won’t give us much clue either. Gallo left those for last, because they weren’t important.”
“Or they belonged to a prior inhabitant of the rooms and are nothing to do with Gallo.”
“Not very likely, is it? A man like Gallo would have found all the hiding places in those chambers or maybe even made a few himself.”
“What you say makes sense,” I conceded. “I bow to your expertise.”
“It’s great expertise, guv. There’s not a nook or cranny made for hiding things I can’t find. Been doing it since I were a lad.”
We spoke no more after that, I saving my breath for the climb. I let out a whuff of relief when we reached the flat space outside the villa and turned in through the gate.
The gatehouse was lit with lanterns, and they also surrounded the front door, which stood open, letting the cool air into the house. Light poured from the doorway, and I saw Matthias nip through the hall carrying a tray. Grenville must have arrived.
Bartholomew took my hat, gloves, and coat at my entrance. Brewster said his goodnights and disappeared, either to find his bed or a well-deserved pot of ale.
I bade Bartholomew carry the box of trinkets to my bedchamber and followed Matthias’s trail to the salon in the back of the house that overlooked the city. Matthias was just pouring out a dark amber liquid for Grenville. Donata, also present, stood to meet me as I entered.
“There you are, Gabriel.” She rose on her tiptoes to kiss me lightly on the mouth before taking my arm. “Do trickle some of that brandy into a glass for me, Matthias. I imagine the captain would also appreciate a portion.”
Matthias good-naturedly filled two more goblets, which he handed around.
“No soirees tonight?” I asked Donata, who sank into a gilded chair from the reign of the fifteenth Louis. She was dressed splendidly, as always, but I’d learned to differentiate her costumes for balls, the opera, or a quiet night at home.
“A gathering with a friend later,” Donata replied, taking an elegant sip from her goblet. “You are released from duty tonight. You do look tired.”
“Too much walking.” I put myself on a settee that was more pretty than comfortable and stretched my aching leg. “I had a coach, but gave it to Emile.”
“He must have been having adventures,” Donata confided to Grenville. “Depend upon it. Now you must regale us with them.”
“I will.” The brandy loosened my muscles nicely, and I drank deeply. “After you tell me what you have been up to. Did either of you discover anything interesting, today?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Grenville looked pleased with himself. “I found the comte’s hunting lodge—a rather rustic place, but I can see why he enjoys it. However, he was not enjoying it last night. He was not there, and the gamekeeper informed me he hasn’t darkened its door for at least a week.”
Chapter 14
Then the comte lied,” I said, coming alert. “Why would he claim to be at his hunting lodge when he was not?”
Donata answered without worry. “I imagine he didn’t see the reason to tell anyone his business. Lejeune is the sort who believes he can do as he pleases, and no one should bother him about it. That doesn’t mean he was wandering the streets of the old city in the early morning to murder a man.”
