“You witnessed Mr. Eduard Percival knocking Lord Greybourne into the river?” Hunt asked. “Rafe, can you take notes? And have someone haul the scoundrel in here so he can face his accusers.”
Obviously not a man of letters, the good bailiff glanced about uncertainly, looking for anything resembling a desk with a pencil or paper.
Eleanor reluctantly released Grey’s hand. “Give me a moment, please, and I can take notes. We locked up everything before going out this evening.”
Rafe nodded at her in relief and went to fetch the first prisoner.
El returned with her notebook, and a pencil, which was easier than keeping a bottle of ink at hand. “I’ll write this up properly later. I’m in the habit of using my own abbreviations so I might write faster.”
Settling beside Grey again, she wrote down the earlier question, repeated it, and waited expectantly.
Rafe hauled Percival into the parlor. Arms tied behind his back, unable to take the food and drink, the so-called journalist merely leaned against the wall and glowered.
The captain directed his earlier question to the prisoner. “Mr. Percival, did you knock Lord Greybourne into the river?”
The stocky Bradford descendant glared over their heads.
“I’ll note that the prisoner did not respond?” Eleanor asked sweetly.
“The prisoner was uncooperative,” Grey suggested with malice.
“Fine, then. Mr. Bradford, perhaps you will give us a full account of what you witnessed?” Unperturbed, Hunt sipped his brandy. “Miss Leonard, if you will, make note of the witness’s name, residence, family, and former residence.”
She hastily noted all she knew while Richard—Dickie—Bradford waited for her to finish scribbling. She had thought she wanted to give up invisibility and be noticed. Now, every man in the room was watching her doing what she always did, take notes. The world was a strange place.
She nodded when she was done and again watched their neighbor expectantly.
“Where do you want me to start?” Bradford asked in a tone just a little less than surly. “I been watching the galah come and go for weeks now.”
“Galah?” Eleanor inquired. “How do you spell that?”
“F-o-o-l,” Bradford said with a snarl. “At the time, I didn’t know we was cousins. He and the dead man were always in here, as if my house belonged to them, so I moved across the way to watch.”
Grey sat up straighter, set down his brandy, and grabbed a handful of bread and cheese. “So Percival and Comfrey recognized each other? And conspired together?”
Bradford shrugged. “Didn’t listen in on ’em. They banged about, brought men in to bang about more, shouted a lot. Since they had men out fixing the roof, I stayed away. Place like this needs a solid roof.”
“So, it appears they were repairing your father’s home and you let them get on with it?” Hunt suggested.
“I wanted the lay of the land afore I said anything. Dad said the place was ours. He drew me a map a’fore he died, said there was a sign out front, I couldn’t miss it. I found the sign in pieces in a dead hedge, so I fixed it up. But the home I expected was in tatters, and the men you call Comfrey and Percival were ripping it apart more than repairing.”
“So, you’ve been here the better part of the month?” El couldn’t resist asking. Bradford still terrified her with his size and manner, but she was trying not to be judgmental.
“Listenin’ and learnin’, like I was taught. When they had to take an ax to get in the cellar door, I feared they wasn’t up to nothin’ proper. Didn’t know they was family.”
“What did they do once they removed the cellar door?” Grey inquired genially, apparently accepting this tale.
“I looked in oncet, after they all went home. Wasn’t nothing down there then. They dug holes all over, so if they found anything, I don’t know it.”
This could all be completely made-up, Eleanor fretted as she jotted down his replies. They had no reason to believe him—except the sign out front was very competently repaired and it didn’t seem like anything the banker had done. But if they did believe him, then the stolen parts they’d found in the cellar may have been stolen after Blackie looked in? Recently, and not years ago.
And how in the name of heaven was Grey’s heir involved in all this?
The shouts and clatter outside warned this would be a long night.
Thirty-seven
Rafe
