“I wouldn’t want your wife to hear you’d suggested such a thing,” Colin said. “Have you any idea who might have taken her?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? That bloody fool with his red paint. He signed the note with it.”
“But why would he want to kidnap your wife?” I asked.
“Why did he want to kidnap that unfortunate Dalton girl?”
“Because he believed her to be in possession of some sort of evidence that would incriminate him,” Colin said. “Did your wife have any such thing? Documents, perhaps?”
“Hargreaves, you know as well as I that my wife has nothing of the sort,” Lord Glover said. “She’s an affable one, isn’t she? Wouldn’t think of blackmailing anyone for anything.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest she was blackmailing someone,” Colin said.
“She did have a keen interest in this case,” I said. “Were you aware she was corresponding with a gentleman who claimed to be responsible for the paint?”
“I remember her mentioning something about it,” he said. “Can’t say I paid it too much attention, though. Who can keep track of such things? She’s always got some sort of intrigue to attend to.”
“Weren’t you concerned about what she was doing?” I asked. “Writing to a known criminal?”
“Truth be told, Lady Emily, I never believed the letters were from the genuine article. She did—well, she liked the excitement, you see. I wouldn’t be half surprised if they were written by some young bloke who fancies himself in love with her and wants attention.”
“I can understand your position,” Colin said. “But it does appear now that there was something more nefarious afoot. And knowing that, is there anyone you suspect of wishing her ill?”
“Doesn’t sound to me like this bloke has the vaguest interest in her,” Lord Glover said. “It’s my money he wants.”
“All right, let’s start there,” I said. “Do you have any enemies?”
“I wouldn’t be a successful businessman if I didn’t.”
Lord Glover had received his peerage after a distinguished run as the head of a brewery. He’d built his fortune—an enormous fortune—with the modest sum he inherited at twenty when his father died. His mother, whose family was old, titled, and distinguished, but impoverished, was ashamed he’d decided to earn a living when the family money ran out. But in the end, she accepted what he’d done. Not, however, until he’d been made a baron.
“So who would be the most likely suspects?” Colin asked.
“I really don’t know, Hargreaves,” he said. “Can’t Scotland Yard figure it out? I’m a busy man.”
“Aren’t you worried about your wife?” I asked. “Cordelia Dalton is dead, most likely at the hands of the same person who has taken Lady Glover.”
“Heaven help whoever he is,” he said. “They’ll have their hands full.”
25
“I do hope,” I said the following morning over breakfast, “that should I ever be kidnapped you’d show a bit more concern than Lord Glover.” I’d slept later than Colin, and went to him in his study once I’d got dressed.
“He’s more upset than you think,” Colin said. “Just doesn’t want anyone to see.” I found this unlikely, but Colin did know both husband and wife better than I did, so I was willing to concede the point without argument. I was not, however, convinced. Regardless, every measure was being taken to find Lady Glover.
We’d stayed at the Glovers’ until well after midnight, conferring with Scotland Yard on the matter of the kidnapping. At present, there were no leads to follow. All we could do was wait, just as the Daltons had, for further word from the madman.
If, indeed, that was who had taken Lady Glover.
“Why do you think he switched from handwritten notes to one pieced together from newspaper letters?” I asked. “That doesn’t seem logical to me. Unless he’s not the same person who sent the Shakespeare quotes.”
“An excellent observation, my dear,” Colin said. “It’s quite strange.”
“I know you rejected the idea last night, but I think we have to look at Mrs. Harris,” I said. “She was blackmailing Lady Glover.”
“If she wanted to raise more money, all she would have had to do was demand it of Lady Glover. Why kidnap her?”
“Her husband has more than she does,” I said.
“And if Lady Glover had needed more than she could afford to keep Mrs. Harris at bay, she would have persuaded her husband to increase her allowance.”
“I still don’t trust Winifred,” I said.
“As you shouldn’t,” he said. “But I don’t like her for this—really, for any of it. She’s judgmental enough, but not so clever as to be able to carry it off.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate her,” I said. “When someone’s judgmental enough, she can generally do whatever necessary to accomplish her bitter agenda.”
“I won’t deny the possibility,” he said. “But I still don’t like it.”
“Poor Lady Glover. She has the attention of every gentleman in London except her own husband,” I said. “That was obvious after speaking to him for two minutes, no matter what you say.”
“I admit they may have an unconventional marriage,” Colin said. “But I’m sure he is fond of her. Let’s hope he gets the opportunity to treat her better. At any rate, Scotland Yard are taking the matter extremely seriously. How could they do otherwise after what happened to Cordelia?”
“Of course,” I said. “They can’t risk a repeat of that tragedy. What I don’t understand is how Lady Glover fits in. It’s clear Cordelia was murdered because of some sort of evidence her killer believed Mr. Dillman had given her. But what’s Lady Glover’s connection? Did Cordelia say something that led him to consider Lady Glover a threat to him as well?”
“That, my dear, is what I’m working to find out,” he said. “I’ve got my whole day mapped out, starting with another search of the Glovers’ house.”
Davis brought the mail to us, first handing Colin a note that had arrived via messenger. I sorted through the rest, setting Colin’s in front of him before starting to divide mine into three piles: invitations that needed only a yes or a no, correspondence requiring detailed responses, and everything that could be ignored. The third stack was not so high as I would have liked.
Colin passed me the hand-delivered note before I’d opened any of mine.
