Lady Sidmouth was inside, looking more than a little miserable.
‘I cannot think why there should have been such an attack. And at a wedding feast. It really is too bad.’
‘My Lady, may I sit down?’ asked Toby politely.
‘Oh there I am forgetting common courtesy. Please do, Constable Miller. Now how can I assist?’
‘First of all, Madam, I would like a list of all the people present yesterday, including their addresses, if such a thing should be possible.’
‘Oh yes indeed, it most certainly is. It was a wedding and we had sent invitations and listed all those who could come and those who refused. I will get a servant to fetch it for you.’ She rang a little bell and when a footmen came ordered him to fetch the wedding list and also bring some refreshment for Constable Miller.
‘Thank you, Ma’am, you are very kind. A cup of tea would be pleasant. And now, if you’ll forgive me, I would like to speak of the events of yesterday afternoon.’
‘Certainly.’
‘These assassins. You say they wore brown shifts and poke bonnets, but did you conclude they were disguises, to hide their true identity?’
‘Oh quite definitely. I thought they were men, in fact. You see, they had big hands and feet and quite broad shoulders. One of them definitely, though the other was smaller.’
‘Um. And though they shot at everyone, would you say the target was the Earl of St Austell?’
‘That really is hard to conclude. It seemed to me that they were on a mad killing spree. But that doesn’t really make any sense. But then, what does?’
‘Quite.’
The Constable was silenced by the arrival of his tea. When the footman had left, he asked, ‘And where is the widow now?’
Lady Sidmouth stared and then said, ‘Oh you mean Miranda. She is prostrate in her room, poor girl. She has stepped straight out of her wedding gown and into deepest black.’
‘As you say, Madam, she is to be much pitied. Now, as you know, I have examined all three bodies and it will be my duty to send them on to the Exeter mortuary. The Coroner will release them in due course and then they may be duly buried.’
‘I see. Tell me, what did you conclude from your examination?’
‘I am no medical man as you know, my Lady. But judging from their injuries I would say that the Earl was definitely the target. He was shot four times. Mrs James had one bullet wound to the heart and Mr Meakin looked as if he had been shot almost by accident.’
‘I see. So what does that tell you?’
‘You want my honest opinion?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then I would say they were hired assassins and their brief was to kill the Earl and, perhaps, Lettice James. Mr Meakin I am not so certain of.’
Lady Sidmouth went very white. ‘But who could possibly have hired them?’
‘That’s what I’m going to find out. Did the Earl have any enemies that you know of?’
‘Dozens, I should imagine.’
Tobias looked up from his notebook. ‘Really? Who for example?’
‘I really don’t think I would care to say that.’
‘That is up to you, Lady Sidmouth. But I shall find out in any case. You can be assured of it.’
‘That is entirely your affair, Constable.’
‘Yes, Madam, it is.’
As Tobias Miller was making his way out he ran into that most exemplary man, John Rawlings, together with that formidable female, the Marchesa di Lorenzi.
‘Ah, Mr Rawlings, how are you, my dear Sir? What are you doing in this part of the world?’ John opened his mouth to reply but the Constable continued, ‘Let me hazard a guess. You were invited to the wedding and witnessed the happenings of yesterday afternoon.’
‘Quite right. But what you didn’t know was that the Lady Elizabeth and I called on you this morning to be told that you had made an early visit to Lady Sidmouth.’
The Constable lowered his voice. ‘Is there anywhere we can talk privately?’
‘I can only think of the cellar. Nobody will venture down there because of the bodies.’
The Marchesa spoke. ‘Then I’ll call on Lady Sidmouth and keep her occupied. Meanwhile you two can have your private discussion.’
‘Thank you, Madam,’ said the Constable and gave her a formal bow.
Walking quietly, John and Tobias made their way round the house and in at the back door used by the servants. The steep circular staircase that it was the daily lot of the employees to climb or descend was immediately to their left. Without a word both men plunged downwards.
The atmosphere in the cellar was horrible. For no good reason John felt the hairs on his neck rise. All the old stories of ghosts and ghouls flashed through his mind. And then, quite distinctly, he heard a sound. Tobias turned to him with raised eyebrows and the Apothecary motioned him to be quiet. They crept forward to where lay the three mounds, all covered with fresh white linen.
‘Don’t move or I’ll shoot,’ said Tobias, drawing a pistol.
For answer there was silence, followed by a long, terrible, gasping sob.
Twenty
Pistol drawn and looking thoroughly menacing, Tobias strode forward to see a quivering heap clutching at the sheet covering the Earl of St Austell and letting forth a series of loud sobs.
‘Stand up, Sir!’ he shouted. ‘Stand up and act like a man.’
Much to the Apothecary’s surprise the fellow whose character he was still attempting to read, Viscount Falmouth, rose to his feet and stood noisily crying into his spectacles.
Tobias showed no mercy. ‘Well, Sir, and what do you have to say for yourself?’
‘He was my grandfather, for the love of God. Have you no pity?’ came the reply, punctuated by sobs.
‘I am sorry, your Grace, but I do not think this is a suitable place for you to be. I am here investigating a crime and I think you would be better off praying in a church.’
The Constable’s form of address brought home to John the fact that the Viscount was now the new Earl of St Austell and as such should be acting with a certain dignity, however racked his emotions were. Remembering his first meeting with him, when Falmouth had come into his shop and asked him for strengthening medicine for his elderly relative and behaved with such absent-mindedness, John could hardly marry the different parts of the man’s character. Looking at the sobbing wreck before him and recalling the vague young man he had first encountered, the Apothecary felt quite puzzled by the whole affair.
Falmouth slowly dried his eyes. He looked at Tobias with nothing short of loathing.
‘Are you devoid of all feelings, man? This was my beloved grandfather. Have you ever lost a relative?’
‘Yes, indeed I have, your Grace. When I was sixteen years old. Both of my parents died of influenza. And I was left in charge of a brood of siblings. Which, I might add, I brought up as decent and hard-working people. Every one.’
‘Well, that’s very commendable I’m sure. But I am newly struck by grief and I insist on paying respect to my grandfather’s remains.’
And remains were about all they were, John thought, vividly remembering the fact that after the shooting the late Earl had been nothing but a mass of torn flesh and eyeballs. But further discussion was useless as from the staircase came a banging and crashing announcing the arrival of officials of some sort.
‘We’re from the coroner’s office,’ said the headman, who obviously knew Toby from years past. ‘Three to take to the mortuary. That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘They’re not coffined up,’ answered the Constable.
Falmouth intervened. ‘Have a care there. I’ll have you know that one of the bodies belongs to the late Earl of
