Mrs Reader and contained the names of all those who were definitely aware of the routine followed by the colonel’s wife. Hepworth wasn’t on the list.’
‘That’s irrelevant. He’s a watcher, sir. If she’d been his target, he’d have kept her under observation for some time.’
‘Yes,’ conceded Colbeck, ‘I can imagine him doing that.’
They continued on their way to the village. Having returned the hired horses, they went back to the Black Bull. Colbeck first washed off the dirt he’d picked up during the fight then he changed his apparel. He asked the landlord where his least favourite customer lived and they were directed to a cottage on the outer fringe of South Otterington. It was a small, low residence for a tall, bulky man and they understood why there was no room for Sam Hepworth to play with his soldiers. They knocked on the door but there was no response. When Leeming peered through a dusty window, half-hidden by ivy, he could see nobody inside. Colbeck led the way around the side of the cottage and they saw that someone was at home, after all. A red-faced girl with a mop of brown curls was pegging out some washing on a line. There was an air of morose resentment about her as if the chore were a punishment inflicted by an unkind parent. Even though she saw them over the fence, she carried on with her job.
‘Are you Ginny Hepworth?’ asked Colbeck.
‘Could be,’ she returned, cheekily.
‘We know for a fact you are,’ said Leeming, annoyed by her rudeness. ‘We met your brother in the churchyard this morning.’
‘Our Sam’s always there.’
‘We’d really like to talk to your father.’
‘Our Dad’s not ’ere.’
‘Do you know where he is, Ginny?’
‘Out with our Mam, like – they goes walkin’ of a Sunday.’
‘And they’ve left you to do all the work, I see,’ said Colbeck. ‘That was very unfair of them. This should be a day of rest. When will they be back?’
‘No idea.’
‘Do you know who we are?’
‘Whole village knows.’
‘Then perhaps you’d tell your father that we’d like to speak to him at the Black Bull. You might also tell him,’ said Colbeck, adding the information by way of bait, ‘that we’ve made an arrest.’
‘I see,’ she said, pegging the last item on the line before folding her arms. ‘Who you got, then?’
‘We’ll tell your father.’
‘You used to work at the big house, didn’t you?’ said Leeming.
‘Aye – I were treated bad.’
‘How did you get on with the colonel?’
‘Colonel were the worst.’
‘So you didn’t like him?’
‘No, I were thrown out.’
‘But your father spoke up for you. He told us so.’
‘Aye, that’s right. Our Dad told colonel off, like.’
‘And he probably wrote to him, didn’t he?’ Her eyelids narrowed with suspicion. ‘Like any good father, he’d have wanted to defend his daughter. I’ll wager that he sent a letter of complaint. I admire him for doing so. From what he said, it seems to me that you were dealt with very shabbily.’
‘I were – by the colonel and Mrs Withers, at any rate.’
‘Did your father get a reply to his letters?’
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘How many did he send, Ginny?’
‘Three.’ She brought a hand to her mouth but it was far too late to stop the word popping out. Her cheeks went crimson. ‘It were not my fault. I did as I were told.’
‘We’re not blaming you for anything,’ Colbeck reassured her. ‘And there’s no need to mention this to your father. It’s not something we’re bothered about. It’s just that he’s given us some help so he deserves to know that we’ve got a man in custody.’
Ginny relaxed. ‘When will ’e be ’anged?’
‘Oh, there’s a long way to go before any execution.’
‘Our Dad took me to Northallerton once to see a man being ’anged there. There were a big crowd, like. We all cheered.’
‘Your father should have known better,’ said Leeming. ‘It’s not suitable entertainment for a girl of your age. In fact, it shouldn’t be entertainment at all. Did your brother go as well?’
‘Our Sam stayed ’ere.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Right,’ said Colbeck, ‘we won’t hold you up, Ginny. Just pass on the message, please, and say nothing about those letters. Now that the colonel is dead, they’re meaningless.’
She gave a lopsided grin and nodded her head in agreement.
In order to get everything ready in the event of guests returning to the house from church, Mrs Withers and Lottie had got up an hour earlier than usual. They had toiled away before and after the service and were unable to rest until the four visitors had finally departed. Eve and Lawrence Doel had eaten the refreshments in lieu of luncheon, leaving Adam Tarleton to have a full meal on his own in the dining room. While his sister and her husband stayed in the drawing room, he went off to the library to read for an hour. The servants were able to contemplate a short period when they, too, could rest. Lottie chose to sit on a chair and put her aching feet up on a stool. Mrs Withers preferred to withdraw to her room.
Once inside, she locked the door and crossed to the bed. Lifting up the mattress, she felt under it for something she’d hidden there earlier. It was the first chance she’d had to scrutinise it. She sat in the chair by the window so that she caught the best of the light then she undid the pink ribbon around the little bundle. Unfolding the first letter, she began to read it. The housekeeper did not get far. Within the first paragraph there were enough surprises to make her heart beat at a furious rate and to make her whole body burn with embarrassment. Unable to read on, she clutched the letter to her chest and began to sob. Mrs Withers wished that she’d never seen such disturbing words. They pressed down on her brain like so many hot bricks, making her feel as if her head was about to burst into flames. After all the years of devoted service she’d given, she now felt utterly betrayed. It was unnerving. The concept of loyalty suddenly took on a whole new meaning for her.
For their meeting with Hepworth, the detectives withdrew to a private room at the rear of the Black Bull. Colbeck placed pen, ink and paper on the table. Leeming was puzzled.
‘What are they for, Inspector?’
‘I want to give Hepworth a fright.’
‘How will you do that?’
‘I’ll ask him to write something for us so that we can compare it with the letters received by the colonel.’
‘But we don’t have any letters.’
‘ You know that,’ said Colbeck, ‘but the sergeant doesn’t.’
Leeming was surprised. ‘Are you going to lie to him?’
‘I’m going to use a little fiction to establish some facts. Without any of those letters he wrote, we could never secure a conviction in court. What we can do, however, is to unsettle him so much that he’ll lower his defence when we ask about the murder.’
‘Mr Tallis might not approve of your methods,’ said Leeming.
‘Mr Tallis wants results,’ said Colbeck, blithely. ‘With a man like Hepworth, this may be the only way to achieve them.’
They didn’t have to wait long. Only half an hour after their visit to his cottage, the railway policeman entered the pub with his usual swagger. When the landlord pointed to the other room, Hepworth banged on the door before pushing it open.
