the police questioned the guests and Mr. and Mrs. Furnival at some length, but they only corroborated with the servants what they already knew.”
“One of the servants was involved?” Hester said slowly. There was no real hope in her face, because of his warning that the news was not good. “I wondered that before, if one of mem had a military experience, or was related to someone who had. The motive might be quite different, something in his professional life and nothing personal at all…” She looked at Monk.
There was a flicker in Monk's face, and Rathbone knew in that instant that he had not thought of that himself. Why not? Inefficiency-or had he reached some unarguable conclusion before he got that far?
“No.” Monk glanced at him, then away again. “They did not question the movements of the servants closely enough. The butler said they had all been about their duties and noticed nothing at all, and since their duties were in the kitchen and servants' quarters, it was not surprising they had not heard the suit of armor fall. But on questioning him more closely, he admitted one footman tidied the dining room, which was not in the time period we are interested in. He was told to fill the coal scuttles for the rest of the house, including the morning room and the library, which are off the front hall.”
Hester turned her head to watch him. Rathbone sat up a little straighter.
Monk continued impassively, only the faintest of smiles touching the corners of his mouth.
“The footman's observations as to the armor, and he could hardly have missed it had it been lying on the floor in pieces with the body of the general across it and the halberd sticking six feet out of his chest like a flagpole-”
“We take your point,” Rathbone said sharply. “That reduces the opportunities of the suspects. I assume that is what you are eventually going to tell us?”
A flush of annoyance crossed Monk's face, then vanished and was replaced by satisfaction, not at the outcome, but at his own competence in proving it.
“That, and the romantic inclinations of the upstairs maid, and the fact that the footman had a lazy streak, and preferred to carry the scuttles up the front stairs instead of the back, for Mrs. Furnival's bedroom, make it impossible that anyone but Alexandra could have killed him. I'm sorry.”
“Not Sabella?” Hester asked with a frown, leaning a little forward in her seat.
“No.” He turned to her, his face softening for an instant. “The upstairs maid was waiting around the stair head to catch the footman, and when she realized she had missed him, and heard someone coming, she darted into the room where Sabella was resting, just off the first landing, on the pretext that she thought she had heard her call. And when she came out again the people had passed, and she went on back up to the servants' back stairs, and her own room. The people who passed her must have been Alexandra and the general, because after the footman had finished, he went down the back stairs, just in time to meet the news that General Carlyon had had an accident, and the butler had been told to keep the hall clear, and to send for the police.”
Rathbone let out his breath in a sigh. He did not ask Monk if he were sure; he knew he would not have said it if there were the slightest doubt.
Monk bit his lip, glanced at Hester, who looked crushed, then back at Rathbone.
“The third element is motive,” he said.
Rathbone's attention jerked back. Suddenly there was hope again. If not, why would Monk have bothered to mention it?
Damn the man for his theatricality! It was too late to pretend he was indifferent, Monk had seen his change of expression. To affect a casual air now would make himself ridiculous.
“I presume your discovery there is more useful to us?” he said aloud.
Monk's satisfaction evaporated.
“I don't know,” he confessed. “One could speculate all sorts of motives for the others, but for her there seems only jealousy-and yet that was not the reason.”
Rathbone and Hester stared at him. There was no sound in the quiet room but a leaf tapping against the window in the spring breeze.
Monk pulled a dubious face.”It was never easy to believe, in spite of one or two people accepting it, albeit reluctantly. I believed it myself for a while.” He saw the sudden start of interest in their faces, and continued blindly. “Louisa Furnival is certainly a woman who would inspire uncertainty, self-doubt and then jealousy in another woman-and must have done so many times. And there is the possibility that Alexandra could have hated her not because she was so in love with the general but simply because she could not abide publicly being beaten by Louisa, being seen to be second best in the rivalry which cuts deepest to a person's self-esteem, most especially a woman's.”
“But…” Hester could not contain herself. “But what? Why don't you believe it now?”
“Because Louisa was not having an affair with the general, and Alexandra must have known he was not.”
“Are you sure?” Rathbone leaned forward keenly. “How do you know?”
“Maxim has money, which is important to Louisa,” Monk replied, watching their faces carefully. “But even more important is her security and her reputation. Apparently some time ago Maxim was in love with Alexandra.” He glanced up as Hester leaned forward, nodding quickly. “You knew that too?”
“Yes-yes, Edith told me. But he would not do anything about it because he is very moral, and believes profoundly in his marriage vows, regardless of emotions afterwards.”
“Precisely,” Monk agreed. “And Alexandra must have known that, because she was so immediately concerned. Louisa is not a woman to throw away anything-money, honor, home, Society's acceptance-for the love of a man, especially one she knew would not marry her. And the general would not; he would lose his own reputation and career, not to mention the son he adored. In fact I doubt Louisa ever threw away anything intentionally. Alexandra knew her, and knew the situation. If Louisa had been caught hi an affair with the general, Maxim would have made life extremely hard for her. After all, he had already made a great sacrifice in order to sustain his marriage. He would demand the same of her. And all this Alexandra knew…” He left the rest unsaid, and sat staring at them, his face somber.
Rathbone sat back with a feeling of confusion and incompleteness in his mind. There must be so much more to this story they had not even guessed at. They had only pieces, and the most important one that held it all together was missing.
“It doesn't make sense,” he said guardedly. He looked across at Hester, wondering what she thought, and was pleased to see the same doubt reflected in her face. Better than that, the attention in her eyes betrayed that she was still acutely involved in the matter. In no way had she resigned interest merely because the answer eluded them but left the guilt undeniable.
“And you have no idea what the real motive was?” he said to Monk, searching his face to see if he concealed yet another surprise, some final piece held back for a last self-satisfying dramatic effect. But there was nothing. Monk's face was perfectly candid.
“I've tried to think,” he said frankly. “But there is nothing to suggest he used her badly in any way, nor has anyone else suggested anything.” He also glanced at Hester.
Rathbone looked at her. “Hester? If you were in her place, can you think of anything which would make you kill such a man?”
“Several things,” she admitted with a twisted smile, then bit her lip as she realized what they might think of her for such feelings.
Rathbone grinned in sudden amusement. “For example?” he asked.
“The first thing that comes to mind is if I loved someone else.”
“And the second?”
“If he loved someone else.” Her eyebrows rose. “Frankly I should be delighted to let him go. He sounds so-so restricting. But if I could not bear the social shame of it, what my friends would say, ox my enemies, the laughter behind my back, and above all the pity~and the other woman's victory…”
“But he was not having an affair with Louisa,” Monk pointed out. “Oh-you mean another woman entirely? Someone we have not even thought of? But why that night?”
Hester shrugged. “Why not? Perhaps he taunted her. Perhaps that was the night he told her about it. We shall probably never know what they said to one another.”
“What else?”
The butler returned discreetly and enquired if there was anything more required. After asking his guests,
