his name? Gerald?”
“Briefly,” Barker admitted.
“Well, you seem to have made an impression on him,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “He claims you tried to blackmail his father.”
“Preposterous,” the Guv barked. “Over what?”
“He was coy about that, but I believe he said you claimed to have compromising letters from a young lady.”
“He obviously doesn’t realize the kind of enquiry agent Barker is,” I said. “He’s confused him with a common detective.”
“Yes, I’d worked that out for myself, thank you,” Poole said acidly. “About what time did you have this meeting, Cyrus?”
“Early evening, before eight o’clock. I back was in my chambers around nine-fifteen, as Mac will attest.”
“Sorry, but loyal retainers do not count as proper witnesses. Lord Clayton was found around ten-thirty. He’d been dead over an hour.”
“Where was he found?”
“Beside a folly at the far edge of his property. It must be very secluded that time of night.”
“Interesting,” the Guv said.
“Glad to be so bloody entertaining.”
“No, interesting that he should have had a private rendezvous so far from the house, when an hour earlier he’d invited a vile blackmailer like myself in the front door and up to his private study. It’s difficult having to come back and kill someone. If I were better organized, I’d have done it on my first visit.”
“He didn’t do it,” I said to Inspector Poole. “But I’m sure you worked that out for yourself, too.”
“That’s enough out of you,” he snapped.
We stood and sang another hymn and waited for a reading from Ecclesiastes before sitting down again.
“A young woman,” the Guv said. “The only reason to see someone on a clandestine rendezvous outside of the house would be to meet an unescorted female.”
“You mean like the one who dropped off the present at O’Muircheartaigh’s door yesterday morning?” Poole asked. “You think everything is related?”
“Isn’t it usually?”
Poole turned to Barker. “You claim then that you were set up?”
“The Irishman is near death, and I’m on the lam. We have been got neatly out of the way.”
“Can you tell me, Cyrus, what you’ve done to incense Commissioner Warren against you?”
Barker shook his head slightly. “Not in the least. I’ve never even met the man.”
“Well, you’ve succeeded in jumping up his nose. He’s baying for your blood. Apparently he hates all private enquiry agents and you in particular. If he had his way he would revoke all private licenses and you’d be having your neck stretched for you in Wormwood Scrubs. He seems to think you a deserter from the army, which puts you one step beyond Satan in his eyes.”
“Shhh!” The old woman leaned toward him again.
“Beg pardon, ma’am,” Poole said.
Barker’s tone went icy. “Has Nightwine been speaking to Commissioner Warren?”
Poole looked uncomfortable. “They dined together yesterday at the Army Navy Club. Oh, Christ help us!”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s Abberline, coming this way. Hook it!”
We didn’t need a second invitation, but scissored out of the pew, down the aisle, and behind the choir loft.
“Hurry!” I heard Inspector Abberline cry, though I’m sure the constables were having difficulty running in the Abbey in the middle of a service. I thought it likely the good Lord would forgive us under those particular circumstances, and therefore ran as fast as my legs would carry me.
Ecclesiastes will tell you that there is a time for everything under the sun. Despite the fact that we were in one of the most sacrosanct spots in the whole of England, it was time to put shoe leather to paving slabs and get out of there. To do so, we would be forced to raise a clangor and disturb that fine peace, for there is a terrible echo in the Abbey and it is impossible to run silently. As I glanced back at Barker, I caught something out of the corner of my eye.
“Briefly,” Barker admitted.
“Well, you seem to have made an impression on him,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “He claims you tried to blackmail his father.”
“Preposterous,” the Guv barked. “Over what?”
“He was coy about that, but I believe he said you claimed to have compromising letters from a young lady.”
“He obviously doesn’t realize the kind of enquiry agent Barker is,” I said. “He’s confused him with a common detective.”
“Yes, I’d worked that out for myself, thank you,” Poole said acidly. “About what time did you have this meeting, Cyrus?”
“Early evening, before eight o’clock. I back was in my chambers around nine-fifteen, as Mac will attest.”
“Sorry, but loyal retainers do not count as proper witnesses. Lord Clayton was found around ten-thirty. He’d been dead over an hour.”
“Where was he found?”
“Beside a folly at the far edge of his property. It must be very secluded that time of night.”
“Interesting,” the Guv said.
“Glad to be so bloody entertaining.”
“No, interesting that he should have had a private rendezvous so far from the house, when an hour earlier he’d invited a vile blackmailer like myself in the front door and up to his private study. It’s difficult having to come back and kill someone. If I were better organized, I’d have done it on my first visit.”
“He didn’t do it,” I said to Inspector Poole. “But I’m sure you worked that out for yourself, too.”
“That’s enough out of you,” he snapped.
We stood and sang another hymn and waited for a reading from Ecclesiastes before sitting down again.
“A young woman,” the Guv said. “The only reason to see someone on a clandestine rendezvous outside of the house would be to meet an unescorted female.”
“You mean like the one who dropped off the present at O’Muircheartaigh’s door yesterday morning?” Poole asked. “You think everything is related?”
“Isn’t it usually?”
Poole turned to Barker. “You claim then that you were set up?”
“The Irishman is near death, and I’m on the lam. We have been got neatly out of the way.”
“Can you tell me, Cyrus, what you’ve done to incense Commissioner Warren against you?”
Barker shook his head slightly. “Not in the least. I’ve never even met the man.”
“Well, you’ve succeeded in jumping up his nose. He’s baying for your blood. Apparently he hates all private enquiry agents and you in particular. If he had his way he would revoke all private licenses and you’d be having your neck stretched for you in Wormwood Scrubs. He seems to think you a deserter from the army, which puts you one step beyond Satan in his eyes.”
“Shhh!” The old woman leaned toward him again.
“Beg pardon, ma’am,” Poole said.
Barker’s tone went icy. “Has Nightwine been speaking to Commissioner Warren?”
Poole looked uncomfortable. “They dined together yesterday at the Army Navy Club. Oh, Christ help us!”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s Abberline, coming this way. Hook it!”
We didn’t need a second invitation, but scissored out of the pew, down the aisle, and behind the choir loft.
“Hurry!” I heard Inspector Abberline cry, though I’m sure the constables were having difficulty running in the Abbey in the middle of a service. I thought it likely the good Lord would forgive us under those particular circumstances, and therefore ran as fast as my legs would carry me.
Ecclesiastes will tell you that there is a time for everything under the sun. Despite the fact that we were in one of the most sacrosanct spots in the whole of England, it was time to put shoe leather to paving slabs and get out of there. To do so, we would be forced to raise a clangor and disturb that fine peace, for there is a terrible echo in the Abbey and it is impossible to run silently. As I glanced back at Barker, I caught something out of the corner of my eye.
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