The Cedars always has a butler.’
‘Oh, that,’ mumbled Morris, ‘there was one, but he left.’
‘You didn’t mention this, Morris!’ I turned to him, surprised.
He looked embarrassed. ‘It wasn’t recent, sir. When I asked Cook if there were any servants I hadn’t met, she said I’d seen them all. She added they managed without a butler now since Mr Seymour left six months ago. Mr Benedict had been very put out about it at the time. He hasn’t taken on any one else to replace Seymour.’
‘If Mr Benedict was very put out at Seymour leaving, it suggests the butler handed in his notice. He wasn’t sacked. Why, I wonder did Seymour leave when the work could hardly have been arduous and all the other servants were so happy? Morris! When you have been to the Burlington Arcade tomorrow, and also found the crossing sweeper, you have another job. You can go round the agencies that place domestic staff of the superior kind. Seymour has had plenty of time to find another post. I would like to know where he is working now and, if possible, talk to him.’
‘Yessir,’ said Morris with a sigh. ‘Might I suggest, sir, that Constable Biddle go out to look for the crossing sweeper? It might make things move a little quicker. Biddle would like the chance, sir. He’s very ambitious.’
‘Send young Biddle, by all means. I suppose he can’t make a complete muddle of it.’ I knew Constable Biddle to be enthusiastic and well-meaning but his keenness sometimes got him into a pickle.
We were nearing our terminus at Waterloo.
‘Excuse me, Mr Ross,’ said Morris diffidently, ‘but what exactly is an obzhaydar?’
At home that evening, as I sat with Lizzie at our modest dining table, I told her that we had a new murder on our hands at the Yard. I described Allegra Benedict as she would have looked before her death; and said I’d been all the way out to Egham to visit the bereaved husband. Knowing she was a doctor’s daughter, I even told her about Carmichael’s carbolic spray.
‘Goodness,’ said Lizzie. ‘I didn’t think Dr Carmichael would be so open to new ideas. What an awful business. That poor woman. I wonder if she was happy in England, so far from her own country. I wonder if she had many friends.’
‘She had a companion who had been with her all the time she’d been in this country and who travelled up to London with her that day, a Miss Marchwood. Rather a peculiar female – why, Lizzie, what is it?’
Lizzie had put down her knife and fork and was staring at me.
‘Did you say Marchwood? It can’t be the same – but you say she was Mrs Benedict’s companion ? It must be the same one.’
‘You know her?’ I asked, astonished.
‘No, not at all. But I know of her and Bessie knows her.’
‘Bessie!’ I exclaimed so loudly that Bessie appeared and asked what I wanted.
‘Bessie,’ said Lizzie to her. ‘The lady who normally comes to the Temperance Hall and helps with the teas on a Sunday is a Miss Marchwood, so you told me, isn’t that right?’
‘That’s right, missus,’ said Bessie. ‘Only she wasn’t there last Sunday when you came along. I was really sorry about that. She always is there, along with Mrs Scott and Mrs Gribble. Miss Marchwood brings shortbread biscuits. I don’t think she bakes them herself. I think she gets the cook where she lives to do it. They’re very good biscuits.’
‘Never mind the biscuits!’ I interrupted. ‘Do you know the name of Miss Marchwood’s employer? Did the lady ever come with her? Do you know where they live?’
‘She don’t live in London,’ said Bessie. ‘She comes on the train. I mean Miss Marchwood. The lady she works for doesn’t come.’
‘She would be a very beautiful lady, Italian,’ I told her.
Bessie looked impressed. ‘My, fancy that, and Miss Marchwood so plain.’
I was sure now that we did have the same woman in mind. Of all the staff at The Cedars, Marchwood, we had learned,
‘Oh, that,’ mumbled Morris, ‘there was one, but he left.’
‘You didn’t mention this, Morris!’ I turned to him, surprised.
He looked embarrassed. ‘It wasn’t recent, sir. When I asked Cook if there were any servants I hadn’t met, she said I’d seen them all. She added they managed without a butler now since Mr Seymour left six months ago. Mr Benedict had been very put out about it at the time. He hasn’t taken on any one else to replace Seymour.’
‘If Mr Benedict was very put out at Seymour leaving, it suggests the butler handed in his notice. He wasn’t sacked. Why, I wonder did Seymour leave when the work could hardly have been arduous and all the other servants were so happy? Morris! When you have been to the Burlington Arcade tomorrow, and also found the crossing sweeper, you have another job. You can go round the agencies that place domestic staff of the superior kind. Seymour has had plenty of time to find another post. I would like to know where he is working now and, if possible, talk to him.’
‘Yessir,’ said Morris with a sigh. ‘Might I suggest, sir, that Constable Biddle go out to look for the crossing sweeper? It might make things move a little quicker. Biddle would like the chance, sir. He’s very ambitious.’
‘Send young Biddle, by all means. I suppose he can’t make a complete muddle of it.’ I knew Constable Biddle to be enthusiastic and well-meaning but his keenness sometimes got him into a pickle.
We were nearing our terminus at Waterloo.
‘Excuse me, Mr Ross,’ said Morris diffidently, ‘but what exactly is an obzhaydar?’
At home that evening, as I sat with Lizzie at our modest dining table, I told her that we had a new murder on our hands at the Yard. I described Allegra Benedict as she would have looked before her death; and said I’d been all the way out to Egham to visit the bereaved husband. Knowing she was a doctor’s daughter, I even told her about Carmichael’s carbolic spray.
‘Goodness,’ said Lizzie. ‘I didn’t think Dr Carmichael would be so open to new ideas. What an awful business. That poor woman. I wonder if she was happy in England, so far from her own country. I wonder if she had many friends.’
‘She had a companion who had been with her all the time she’d been in this country and who travelled up to London with her that day, a Miss Marchwood. Rather a peculiar female – why, Lizzie, what is it?’
Lizzie had put down her knife and fork and was staring at me.
‘Did you say Marchwood? It can’t be the same – but you say she was Mrs Benedict’s companion ? It must be the same one.’
‘You know her?’ I asked, astonished.
‘No, not at all. But I know of her and Bessie knows her.’
‘Bessie!’ I exclaimed so loudly that Bessie appeared and asked what I wanted.
‘Bessie,’ said Lizzie to her. ‘The lady who normally comes to the Temperance Hall and helps with the teas on a Sunday is a Miss Marchwood, so you told me, isn’t that right?’
‘That’s right, missus,’ said Bessie. ‘Only she wasn’t there last Sunday when you came along. I was really sorry about that. She always is there, along with Mrs Scott and Mrs Gribble. Miss Marchwood brings shortbread biscuits. I don’t think she bakes them herself. I think she gets the cook where she lives to do it. They’re very good biscuits.’
‘Never mind the biscuits!’ I interrupted. ‘Do you know the name of Miss Marchwood’s employer? Did the lady ever come with her? Do you know where they live?’
‘She don’t live in London,’ said Bessie. ‘She comes on the train. I mean Miss Marchwood. The lady she works for doesn’t come.’
‘She would be a very beautiful lady, Italian,’ I told her.
Bessie looked impressed. ‘My, fancy that, and Miss Marchwood so plain.’
I was sure now that we did have the same woman in mind. Of all the staff at The Cedars, Marchwood, we had learned,
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