Auguste with dignity, having advanced ten yards or so.
Rose joined him. He looked around. ‘Difficult to get rid of in a peasouper. And it was only two hours or so later that I got here. Not a lot of time to get rid of it, in that weather, even if you were in the pub by that time.’
‘Unless,’ said Auguste, struck by a sudden thought, ‘it was kept down there in Cranton’s basement area till night-time.’
‘Searched there,’ grunted Rose. ‘Looked there myself.’
‘Even in the rubbish cupboard?’ asked Auguste quickly, pointing to a door out of sight on the pavement side.
Rose almost blushed. ‘Couldn’t swear to it.’ They exchanged a doubtful look.
‘No,’ said Auguste, ‘surely it couldn’t still be there. It has been used since.’
They both relaxed. One body was quite enough for a Boxing Day.
‘He could have broken into the hotel to hide it in the cellars,’ pointed out Auguste, anxious to absolve Rose from any hint of blame.
‘Could be. One broken door here or there wouldn’t be noticed when our Maisie’s builders moved in.’ Rose brightened up. ‘Funny feet the Queen must have,’ he said thoughtfully as they walked back.
‘
Pardon?
’ Auguste enquired, startled.
‘That sign up there.’ He jerked a finger at the building opposite. ‘Rodways Patent Concave Shoes. It’s got the royal arms above it. Perhaps the Prince ofWales patronises them – he has a lot of standing about to do.’ He spoke lightly, but the disagreeable thought struck him that unless he got a move on, His Royal Highness’s standing about could be cut short very suddenly indeed.
Now, however, Auguste was on his own once more, to face his disgruntled guests in the dining room, disgruntled through no fault of his.
‘I don’t want a drink from the damned wassail bowl. I want to go to my room.’ Colonel Carruthers’s pithy statements seemed to sum up the general mood.
‘I regret it is not possible to visit your rooms for the moment.’ Auguste looked anxiously round his flock, whose expressions varied from impatience to curiosity. Even Maisie looked somewhat annoyed.
‘Come on, Auguste. Stop playing games!’ she ordered him informally. ‘Why’s there a policeman on the front door, and why have we been herded in here like a load of pigs to a trough?’
‘Murder,’ announced Auguste succinctly.
An astounded silence.
‘
Murder
?’ repeated Thérèse. She laughed. ‘But we are all here.’
‘One of the maids.’
‘One of
them
?’ Harbottle pointed a somewhat disdainful thumb towards the nether regions. ‘But why should we be put to inconvenience?’
Colonel Carruthers had been thinking. Now he exploded. ‘Good God, you mean we’re suspects, don’t you? That’s why we’re here in the dining room. Sorry for the girl. But what about our luncheon? No sign of it yet.’
‘The body has only just been discovered,’ said Auguste quietly. ‘The police must examine the scene, and we must avoid it for a short time. Arrangements are being made for luncheon.’
‘Where was the body found?’ asked Bowman, for once not laughing.
‘In a large chest by the window,’ replied Auguste reluctantly.
A moment for this to sink in, then: ‘You mean where I was last night?’ shrieked Evelyn.
‘Yes, Miss Pembrey. I regret that your sister found the body. She is lying down, being tended by her maid.’
‘Oh, it was my fault. She said she would look for the brooch that I lost last night,’ cried Evelyn, woebegone. ‘She said she wanted to stay here, so she might as well hunt for it. She must have thought of the chest. Oh!’ Rosanna put her arm round her to comfort her.
‘It’s just like your story of the Bride in the Chest, isn’t it?’ chattered Gladys, eyes glowing. ‘Murder under the Kissing Bough. The Skeleton at the Feast. So she was murdered while we were out,’ she added inconsequentially.
‘Or during the night,’ said Auguste. ‘She was missing yesterday however. I was
Rose joined him. He looked around. ‘Difficult to get rid of in a peasouper. And it was only two hours or so later that I got here. Not a lot of time to get rid of it, in that weather, even if you were in the pub by that time.’
‘Unless,’ said Auguste, struck by a sudden thought, ‘it was kept down there in Cranton’s basement area till night-time.’
‘Searched there,’ grunted Rose. ‘Looked there myself.’
‘Even in the rubbish cupboard?’ asked Auguste quickly, pointing to a door out of sight on the pavement side.
Rose almost blushed. ‘Couldn’t swear to it.’ They exchanged a doubtful look.
‘No,’ said Auguste, ‘surely it couldn’t still be there. It has been used since.’
They both relaxed. One body was quite enough for a Boxing Day.
‘He could have broken into the hotel to hide it in the cellars,’ pointed out Auguste, anxious to absolve Rose from any hint of blame.
‘Could be. One broken door here or there wouldn’t be noticed when our Maisie’s builders moved in.’ Rose brightened up. ‘Funny feet the Queen must have,’ he said thoughtfully as they walked back.
‘
Pardon?
’ Auguste enquired, startled.
‘That sign up there.’ He jerked a finger at the building opposite. ‘Rodways Patent Concave Shoes. It’s got the royal arms above it. Perhaps the Prince ofWales patronises them – he has a lot of standing about to do.’ He spoke lightly, but the disagreeable thought struck him that unless he got a move on, His Royal Highness’s standing about could be cut short very suddenly indeed.
Now, however, Auguste was on his own once more, to face his disgruntled guests in the dining room, disgruntled through no fault of his.
‘I don’t want a drink from the damned wassail bowl. I want to go to my room.’ Colonel Carruthers’s pithy statements seemed to sum up the general mood.
‘I regret it is not possible to visit your rooms for the moment.’ Auguste looked anxiously round his flock, whose expressions varied from impatience to curiosity. Even Maisie looked somewhat annoyed.
‘Come on, Auguste. Stop playing games!’ she ordered him informally. ‘Why’s there a policeman on the front door, and why have we been herded in here like a load of pigs to a trough?’
‘Murder,’ announced Auguste succinctly.
An astounded silence.
‘
Murder
?’ repeated Thérèse. She laughed. ‘But we are all here.’
‘One of the maids.’
‘One of
them
?’ Harbottle pointed a somewhat disdainful thumb towards the nether regions. ‘But why should we be put to inconvenience?’
Colonel Carruthers had been thinking. Now he exploded. ‘Good God, you mean we’re suspects, don’t you? That’s why we’re here in the dining room. Sorry for the girl. But what about our luncheon? No sign of it yet.’
‘The body has only just been discovered,’ said Auguste quietly. ‘The police must examine the scene, and we must avoid it for a short time. Arrangements are being made for luncheon.’
‘Where was the body found?’ asked Bowman, for once not laughing.
‘In a large chest by the window,’ replied Auguste reluctantly.
A moment for this to sink in, then: ‘You mean where I was last night?’ shrieked Evelyn.
‘Yes, Miss Pembrey. I regret that your sister found the body. She is lying down, being tended by her maid.’
‘Oh, it was my fault. She said she would look for the brooch that I lost last night,’ cried Evelyn, woebegone. ‘She said she wanted to stay here, so she might as well hunt for it. She must have thought of the chest. Oh!’ Rosanna put her arm round her to comfort her.
‘It’s just like your story of the Bride in the Chest, isn’t it?’ chattered Gladys, eyes glowing. ‘Murder under the Kissing Bough. The Skeleton at the Feast. So she was murdered while we were out,’ she added inconsequentially.
‘Or during the night,’ said Auguste. ‘She was missing yesterday however. I was
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