Page 160 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

‘Condition?’

‘Was he agitated?’

‘No, I can’t say he was.’

‘You noticed a scratch on his face?’

Moss stirred. ‘How do you know all this? Who told you about William being out?’

‘Information was placed before me,’ Holyoak said. ‘What about the scratch?’

‘Yes, I noticed a scratch on his cheek and some on his hands. He’d got them on the brambles, trying to get out of the ditch. Like he just told you.’

Holyoak wrote in silence. Then he looked up. ‘Have you heard anything from the valet, Speen, since that evening?’

‘No.’ The dark stare was like a vortex; it drew words out of you into it. ‘He was a strange man. A difficult servant, clever, but satirical. Had an odd sense of humour. And secretive. No one knew anything about him. Frankly, I’m not surprised he took off. He wasn’t suited to country-house life. He was a town person.’

‘That’s what you think, is it? That he just took off?’

‘I’m sure that’s it.’

Holyoak nodded massively. ‘Very well. If you think of anything else, you’ll be sure to let me know, won’t you? And now I’d like a word with Mr Richard Tallant – Speen valeted for him, didn’t he?’

‘I shall enquire whether Mr Richard is at home, and can receive you,’ Moss said, being massive himself, now he was back in his own sphere. ‘Wait here, please.’

Richard received Holyoak in the morning-room, and answered his questions, though there was little he could tell him. ‘He never mentioned any family to me. I always assumed he was a lone wolf. I’ve no idea what he did in his time off. I suppose he had friends, but it’s not something one discusses with a servant.’

‘Was he a good servant?’

‘Satisfactory. I wouldn’t say he was a born servant – hadn’t the attitude for it. Too independent. But I don’t need much looking after, and I was used to soldier-servants, who don’t have the attitude either. I imagine he just got bored with life out here. He was a Londoner, probably missed the bright lights. But what’s brought you out here, constable? You’re not suspecting foul play, surely?’

‘I received an anonymous note, suggesting that one of your footmen, William Sweeting, knew something about Edgar Speen’s disappearance, and it was my duty to follow it up. Sweeting had scratches on his hands and face, and a black eye, suggesting he’d been in a fight.’

Richard’s eyebrows rose. ‘Dear me, you can’t be thinking William beat Speen to death? He’s as soft as a blancmange. Besides, we’d have found the body – we’ve searched the whole estate, just in case Speen had had an accident and was lying hurt somewhere.’

‘Quite, sir. I didn’t say I thought anything of the sort, but it was my duty to make enquiries. Sweeting says he got scratched falling into a ditch in the dark, and there seems no reason to think otherwise. Unless any other information comes to light, we must assume Speen has absconded voluntarily.’ He closed his notebook, gave Richard one more thoughtful look, and departed.

Richard did not propose to waste any more thought on his former valet, for whom he had never developed any fondness. It did just cross his mind, though, that the moon had been almost full on Wednesday night – full moon was in fact Thursday the 5th – and it had been a clear night: he remembered there had been a sharp frost on the Thursday morning. So it was a little odd that William said he’d fallen into a ditch in the dark. Still, most people got flustered when the police asked them questions, and said the first thing that came into their heads. He didn’t propose to waste any more thought on William, either.

Mrs Albertine Crane turned out to be a brown, hard little nut of a woman, the widow of a doctor of the more lowly sort, not a grand physician to the carriage class, but the kind that just made ends meet tending the needs of the less well-off, and running a free clinic for the really poor. She was neatly dressed in clothes bought to last, and made an odd contrast with Lady Clemmie, but they were obviously old friends.

And when she talked, it seemed to make the air crackle as though with electricity. Nina was held rapt the whole time. It was interesting, she thought, that Bobby was evidently impressed, to the extent that when they gathered round afterwards with cups of tea, she was largely silent.

In fact, it was Nina who said, ‘I do think you ought to hold a public meeting, Mrs Crane, and address a larger audience.’

Mrs Crane twinkled. ‘What a splendid idea, Mrs Cowling. And indeed I should like to, but it must be when I pass this way again. I am off to London tomorrow, for some very important meetings. But I shall return.’

‘And you will stay here when you do?’ Clemmie said.

‘Thank you, I shall. Meanwhile,’ to Nina, ‘I see I have lit a spark – don’t let it go out!’

‘I won’t,’ Nina said. ‘You’ve given me so much to think about.’

The trunk was corded and labelled and sitting in the hall. Tiger and Isaac circled it unhappily, then Tiger lay down as close to it as he could manage, while Isaac wandered about the hall as if he had lost something. Upstairs, in his room, Giles was packing the last few items into his leather Gladstone, while Kitty watched.

‘How will you manage without a servant?’ she asked, for something to say. She wanted to hear his voice while she still could.

‘I’ve no need for a proper valet out there. I never had one before, you know, just a native servant to keep the tent tidy and wash my linen. We live very simply.’