the train the
day before, spent the night in the village near Aldwick Castle, toured the ruins this morning and then hired
a carriage to go about making inquiries.
Yet in spite of all that dashing around the neighborhood there was not so much as a speck of dust on his
fine coat. His shirt collar was clean and crisply ironed.
Over-nice by half, she decided. The type who traveled with his own sheets and towels because he did
not trust the cleanliness of inns such as the one she and her husband operated.
She sat in the office, pretending to busy herself with the accounts while Ned spoke with the man. But the
door was open. She could see the front desk out of the corner of her eye and hear everything that was
discussed.
“Four young ladies and their teacher put up here for the night?” The man from London tossed some
coins onto the counter. “They left early yesterday morning?”
Ned did not touch the coins. “Something was said about wanting to be at the station in time to take the
morning train to London.”
“Did they remark on the fire at the castle?” the stranger asked sharply.
“No, sir. The old castle is a fair ride from here. We didn’t get the news of the blaze until after the ladies
had left for the station yesterday.” Ned shook his head somberly. “Heard the place was burned right
down to the ground and that one man died in the flames.”
“Yes, that is true.” The stranger’s words were edged with impatience, as though the loss of the man was
more of a nuisance than a tragedy. “The cause of his death is somewhat uncertain, however.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Never mind, it’s none of your affair. Is there anything else you can tell me about the young ladies and
their teacher?”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“No, sir. Like I said, they arrived very late and left quite early.”
The gentleman’s jaw flexed. “Wonder what they did with the damned horses?” he said, speaking more
to himself than to Ned.
“I can tell ye that, sir,” Ned said. “Left ’em at the livery stable next door to the train station.”
The man flung a few more coins onto the counter. “How did the teacher pay for the rooms that she and
the girls used? Did she have money?”
“Don’t know about the state of her finances, sir.” Ned raised one shoulder in an elaborate shrug. “She
wasn’t the one who paid the bill.”
The expression on the face of the gentleman did not change by so much as the flicker of an eyelash, but
the innkeeper’s wife suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“Who paid for the rooms?” the man from London asked in a deadly soft voice.
“Why, the man the teacher hired to protect them while they were on the road,” Ned said, stunningly
calm.
The stranger’s hand tightened abruptly around the gold-headed handle of his walking stick. He studied
Ned with eyes as cold as those of a fish. “She hired a bodyguard?”
“Very sensible, I thought. She and her students were obliged to travel at night, after all.”
“What was the name of the guard?”
“Smith, I think.” Ned opened the register and ran a finger down the page. “Yes, here it is. Mr. Smith.
Gave him room number five. The teacher and her girls used three and four.”
“Let me see that.” The man whipped the register around with a short, brusque movement and studied the
name on the page. “The handwriting looks the same as that of the teacher’s.”
“She signed the register for all of them—the girls, herself and Smith.”
“Describe Smith.”
Ned shrugged again. “Nothing remarkable about him. Medium height, I’d say. Rather ordinary-looking,
to tell you the truth.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Lizzie, can you recall anything about the man
who accompanied the teacher and her girls the other night?”
She forced herself to turn slowly, as though the question had distracted her from more important work.
“I
day before, spent the night in the village near Aldwick Castle, toured the ruins this morning and then hired
a carriage to go about making inquiries.
Yet in spite of all that dashing around the neighborhood there was not so much as a speck of dust on his
fine coat. His shirt collar was clean and crisply ironed.
Over-nice by half, she decided. The type who traveled with his own sheets and towels because he did
not trust the cleanliness of inns such as the one she and her husband operated.
She sat in the office, pretending to busy herself with the accounts while Ned spoke with the man. But the
door was open. She could see the front desk out of the corner of her eye and hear everything that was
discussed.
“Four young ladies and their teacher put up here for the night?” The man from London tossed some
coins onto the counter. “They left early yesterday morning?”
Ned did not touch the coins. “Something was said about wanting to be at the station in time to take the
morning train to London.”
“Did they remark on the fire at the castle?” the stranger asked sharply.
“No, sir. The old castle is a fair ride from here. We didn’t get the news of the blaze until after the ladies
had left for the station yesterday.” Ned shook his head somberly. “Heard the place was burned right
down to the ground and that one man died in the flames.”
“Yes, that is true.” The stranger’s words were edged with impatience, as though the loss of the man was
more of a nuisance than a tragedy. “The cause of his death is somewhat uncertain, however.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Never mind, it’s none of your affair. Is there anything else you can tell me about the young ladies and
their teacher?”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“No, sir. Like I said, they arrived very late and left quite early.”
The gentleman’s jaw flexed. “Wonder what they did with the damned horses?” he said, speaking more
to himself than to Ned.
“I can tell ye that, sir,” Ned said. “Left ’em at the livery stable next door to the train station.”
The man flung a few more coins onto the counter. “How did the teacher pay for the rooms that she and
the girls used? Did she have money?”
“Don’t know about the state of her finances, sir.” Ned raised one shoulder in an elaborate shrug. “She
wasn’t the one who paid the bill.”
The expression on the face of the gentleman did not change by so much as the flicker of an eyelash, but
the innkeeper’s wife suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“Who paid for the rooms?” the man from London asked in a deadly soft voice.
“Why, the man the teacher hired to protect them while they were on the road,” Ned said, stunningly
calm.
The stranger’s hand tightened abruptly around the gold-headed handle of his walking stick. He studied
Ned with eyes as cold as those of a fish. “She hired a bodyguard?”
“Very sensible, I thought. She and her students were obliged to travel at night, after all.”
“What was the name of the guard?”
“Smith, I think.” Ned opened the register and ran a finger down the page. “Yes, here it is. Mr. Smith.
Gave him room number five. The teacher and her girls used three and four.”
“Let me see that.” The man whipped the register around with a short, brusque movement and studied the
name on the page. “The handwriting looks the same as that of the teacher’s.”
“She signed the register for all of them—the girls, herself and Smith.”
“Describe Smith.”
Ned shrugged again. “Nothing remarkable about him. Medium height, I’d say. Rather ordinary-looking,
to tell you the truth.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Lizzie, can you recall anything about the man
who accompanied the teacher and her girls the other night?”
She forced herself to turn slowly, as though the question had distracted her from more important work.
“I
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