“Exceedingly good,” I said. “You’re a lucky man.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I’ll assume you mean the numbers, not your luck,” I said, thrilling to the feel of discovery. “They’re the rest of the catalog numbers from the British Museum—they go with the letters I found in Mr. Dillman’s pocket.”
“A reasonable guess,” he said, jotting them down in the notebook he’d pulled from his jacket pocket. “But even if we identify the objects, we’ve no reason to think he was using them for anything other than a game. And remember that there was nothing to be found when Mr. Dalton searched his library.”
“Maybe they’re in Mr. Dillman’s library.”
“We’ve both searched there as have Scotland Yard. There’s nothing left to be found, Emily.”
“We didn’t look behind the books,” I said.
“I did,” Colin said. “As soon as you told me about the game.”
“Then there must be another place where he had hidden something. Something in his personal possessions may give us greater insight into his personality—and that, in turn, may point us in the right direction.”
“It’s an interesting idea.”
“I’d like to pursue it this afternoon,” I said.
“It can’t hurt,” he said. “Davis can oversee the Daltons for a few hours.”
“The Daltons are
“Lady Bromley, sir,” he called to Colin, before bowing and returning to the corridor.
“What on earth are you two up to?” my mother asked, taking a seat without being asked. “I’ve just been round their house and was told they’d gone to the country. Which made no sense at this time of year. I knew something had to be wrong.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Dalton was attacked yesterday by the man who murdered Mr. Michael Dillman,” Colin said. “We’re keeping him and his wife here until he’s recovered.”
“Is that quite safe?” she asked.
“You know my primary job is to look after your daughter.”
“Oh, Mr. Hargreaves, you are very good,” she said. “Forgive me for worrying, but I know enough about the nature of your activities to be concerned. In fact, it’s those activities that have brought me here today.”
“Mother, I’m afraid we were about to—”
“Do not interrupt, Emily. It’s unbecoming. I’ve just seen the queen and had a lengthy discussion with her about the numerous services you’ve rendered for the Crown. She agreed with me that you should be made KCMG.”
“Lady Bromley, please understand I am flattered, but that is not something I could even begin to consider,” Colin said. “What I do is no more significant than any other servant of the empire.”
“Your modesty is to be admired, sir, but surely you don’t mean to refuse the queen’s honor?”
“He’s done just that on two previous occasions,” I said.
“I’m perfectly well aware of that, Emily,” she said. “Was it perhaps because—”
Colin stopped her. “Please don’t try to change my mind,” he said. “It will only cause tension between myself and Her Majesty. She has accepted my position on similar matters before. I’d prefer not to test her goodwill again.”
“Which is why you must accept the honor gracefully,” my mother said. “It’s an outrage you’ve not been made a peer.”
“I shouldn’t want that, either,” he said.
“I don’t believe you, Mr. Hargreaves. I think, in fact, I’ve identified the problem. You’re more ambitious than I’d thought, and that impresses me.” She nodded, slowly, a smile creeping onto her face. “I will see what can be done.”
“No, Lady Bromley, I wouldn’t want you to do that,” he said. “You must believe me, I—”
“Enough,” she said, rising from her seat. “I take my leave from you both now, but shall hope to return soon with even better news.”
“Please—” She was gone before Colin could get another word out.
I put my elbows on the desktop and rested my chin on them. I could feel my eyes dancing. “I think you’re beginning to see just what a force of nature she can be.”
“I’ve already witnessed that,” he said.
“Yes, but she’s never directed her full power at you. I’m rather pleased to see the focus taken off me,” I said. “It’s a welcome relief. Notice she didn’t make any mention of my involvement with the Women’s Liberal Federation.”
Colin grunted, but said nothing.
“So, to Mr. Dillman’s?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Let me sleep for two hours and we’ll set off.”
“Shall I send Davis up with a tray for you when it’s time? You’ll need something to eat as well as some rest.”
“That would be perfect,” he said. “Have you work to do, or would you care to join me upstairs?”
“Alas, I’ve too much to do at the moment,” I said. “But maybe I’ll bring your tray up myself.”
He gave me a kiss and made sure Davis was installed in the room before leaving me. I studied Cordelia’s locket and considered the many possible suspects before us. Part of the trouble was there was almost no one in London who didn’t have reason to lash out at society. I set myself to the task of writing a list of everyone who’d given me cause to wonder, but had trouble focusing. Distracted and unsettled, I decided to read, but not even Mary Elizabeth Braddon could get my attention in my current frame of mind. I tossed aside
Maybe Cordelia’s game had led me astray. Mr. Dillman’s numbers could be library catalog citations.
20
Colin did not get his two hours of sleep. He came downstairs after a mere thirty minutes and rushed out of the house, explaining that he needed to go to Scotland Yard. I told him my library theory.
“It’s an excellent one, my dear,” he said. “And we’ll investigate it thoroughly when I return. I shouldn’t be too long. I need to check on something.”
“You must have a theory as well,” I said. “Inspiration kicked you out of bed.”
“You know me too well.”
“Tell me?”
