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“Yes, sir.”
Once they stepped inside, they could hear a woman sobbing. She cried out, “Where is she?”
Rather than answer, the footman called, “Mrs. Crawley, Detective Inspector Pierce is here to speak to you.”
Gideon noted the overturned table in the hallway. “What’s happened here?”
“I don’t know, sir. Mrs. Crawley can explain. I’m not sure.”
The sobbing, Gideon thought, was coming from the far end of the hall. He glanced back at Electra, trying to convey that she should follow with the tilt of his head.
“I don’t want you to leave this house,” Gideon told the footman.
“Of course I won’t, sir. I work here.”
“Oh, heavens.” Mrs. Crawley approached them from the end of the hall, dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes, which were red-rimmed. Her cheeks were puffy and red too, as was her nose. Her gray hair had fallen out of its pins, and her mobcap hung partially askew.
“What’s happened here, Mrs. Crawley? Where’s Mr. Kerrigan?”
“He’s gone, sir,” she got out, her voice raw.
“Gone where?”
The woman twisted her apron and dipped her head, refusing to answer.
“There are to be no more secrets, Mrs. Crawley. Or would you like to answer my questions down at the station?”
“Oh, no, sir. No. He swore he would sack me if I said a word.”
Gideon gritted his teeth. “There are worse things than being sacked, Mrs. Crawley.”
“Yes, the workhouse.”
“Where,” he said with calm he had to fight for, enunciating every word, “is Archibald Kerrigan?”
Mrs. Crawley shook her head.
Anger flared in his gut, and he considered how best to apply duress that would get the woman to crumble.
“He’s gone to the country, sir,” Piper put in, rushing the words.
“Watch your tongue,” Mrs. Crawley warned. “He’ll sack you too. He pays us double-good to keep our gobs shut, Jack.”
“Where in the country, Mr. Piper?” Gideon asked, still keeping his attention fixed on the disheveled housekeeper.
“Got a house there, sir. Name of Fourcross.”
“Where specifically?” Electra asked.
“In Kent, miss.”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Crawley wailed. “Now you’ve done it, boy. Now it will all come out.”
“What will come out, Mrs. Crawley?” Gideon demanded.
Beside him, Electra removed her gloves.
“Give me your hand, Mrs. Crawley,” she asked with more equanimity than he could muster.
