He seemed to find this reasonable. 'You are investigating the murder, aren't you? Like a Runner.'
I moved newspapers aside and deposited myself on a chair. 'Not precisely like a Runner.' Runners got the reward money when a criminal was captured and convicted. I would get nothing for my efforts but the satisfaction of preventing a man from being wrongly hanged.
'I saw you talking to one. Big blond chap.'
I inclined my head. 'Pomeroy. Yes, he is a Runner. He was one of my sergeants on the Peninsula.'
'Really? Bloody marvelous. Who do you think did the murder?'
'I came here to get your opinion on that. I believe you watch out the window a good deal.'
Philip plopped himself on the divan. 'I must. I'm not well, you see. I came home last Michaelmas with a fever and had it for a month. I'm still too weak to go back to school, Mama's doctor says.'
I looked him up and down. Thin, yes, but his eyes moved restlessly, and the mess in the room did not speak of weakness.
'You spend much time alone,' I said.
'I do. Mama is not well, either. She stays most days shut up in her rooms and doesn't come down. She will go out with Papa sometimes, but most days she will not. Papa stays out much of the time. He has business. He's in the Cabinet, you know.'
Ah. That Preston. Right hand to the Chancellor of the Exchequer. A man like that would not have time to indulge a valetudinarian wife and a bored and lonely son.
'Do you ride at all?' I asked.
Philip's eyes lit up, then dimmed. 'I have my own pony. But I don't ride. Mama's doctor said it would tire me.'
I suspected Mama's doctor had discovered how to keep his fees rolling in from his wealthy patients. 'We'll take you and your pony to Hyde Park and I'll teach to you ride like a cavalryman. That means how to ride long distances without tiring yourself.'
His face blossomed a wide grin. 'Would you, sir? I'd be free Monday. That is-oh, I see, sir. You are being polite to me. I'm sorry.'
I shook my head. 'Not at all. Good riding is a skill much admired in all gentlemen. I will show you how even an ill lad can do it.'
He nearly danced in his seat, then shot a doubtful look at my walking stick. 'Do you still ride?'
'I can,' I answered. 'I will meet you on Monday for a riding lesson, if you will tell me what happened out of the window the day Mr. Horne next door died.'
Philip waved his hand. 'I can tell you all that. My tutor was supposed to come that day, but Papa dismissed him because he got into a disgrace-the tutor, I mean-and I didn't have anything to do. I sat at the window and looked out. Really not much happened that day at all. The maid, Gracie, went out in the morning, and then John, the footman. He waved to me. He talks to me sometimes.'
'What time was this?'
'Oh, very early. About nine o'clock. They regularly go out then. Grace comes back with a basket full of things, and John generally brings back parcels. Grace went out again, around one. She was in a tearing hurry, and kept looking behind her as though afraid someone would see her. She didn't look up at me. She never does.'
'Which way did she walk?'
He motioned. 'Off that way, toward Oxford Street. She stopped to talk to a bloke at the turning.'
'Did she? Did you see what he looked like?'
He flushed. 'I'm afraid I didn't.'
I waited. A young man who knew the servants next door by name and knew all their routines should be able to describe a stranger to perfection. But he looked at me shamefacedly. 'The truth is, Captain, I wasn't looking just then.'
'Perhaps you were looking at something else,' I suggested.
He stood up and paced, hands behind his back, a perfect imitation of a gentleman owning up to his friends about a flaw in his character. 'There's a young lady who lives three houses down. Miss Amanda Osborne. She came out and got into a carriage with her mother.'
I hid a smile. 'And she is very pretty, I expect.'
His flush deepened. 'I plan to marry her, you see-when I am much older, of course.'
I wondered if he referred to a marriage already arranged between their families, or if he'd simply decided his course of life-and hers-already.
'Young ladies can distract us from our more rational purposes,' I said.
He shot me a look that said he was grateful that we, both men of the world, understood. 'The next thing that happened is that about a quarter past one, a fine carriage pulled up and stopped in front of number 22. I was supposed to go down to dinner, but I couldn't take my eyes off the carriage. It was polished wood, with gilding on the corners and on the door. The wheels were black with gold spokes. There wasn't a crest on the door, and I'd never seen the carriage before, so I couldn't tell who it belonged to. The horses were finer than my papa's, finer than Lord Berring's-he lives on the other side of Mr. Horne. They were bay horses, and each had one white foot. It must have taken some doing to match them like that.'
I leaned forward, my interest heightening. 'And who got out of this carriage?'
'A gentleman, sir, and his servant. The servant was large and beefy, and had a red face. The man that got out was tall and had dark hair. I couldn't make out his face well, because he didn't look up, but he was dressed fine. All in black with a white neckcloth and a black cloak with a dark blue lining. He looked like he could step right out to Carleton House. He sent his servant up to the door, then followed. He was angry.'
I drummed my fingers on my trousered leg. 'How do you know? You said you couldn't see his face.'
'Well-by the way he walked. You know, moving quick, and stomping his feet. Impatient and annoyed, like he didn't want to be there.'
'How long did he stay?'
Philip stared at the ceiling a moment. 'About an hour or so. They made me come down to dinner then, and when I finished and came back upstairs, the gentleman was just leaving. That must have been about half past two.'
'Was he still angry?'
Philip tapped his cheek with his forefinger. 'I don't know. I only glimpsed him that time. He went to the carriage with his cloak swirling, and climbed inside. But he moved different. I might almost say he seemed satisfied.'
Interesting. I went on. 'After this gentleman departed, did anyone else come to the house?'
'No one all afternoon. They had deliveries, as usual, but they went down to the kitchen. Two chaps with a cart and a lady with a basket.'
'Were these the usual people who delivered?'
He shook his head. 'They have different ones off and on. The lady has been delivering for about a month, and I recognized one of the chaps, but not the other chap.'
They would have gone to the kitchen, and all of the staff would have seen them. Only Mr. Denis, the fine gentleman with the fine carriage, had stopped to visit Mr. Horne through the front door.
'And no one else?'
'You came just as it was getting dark. And then their boy legged it away fast and came back later with the Runner. I recognized you from the day before, when you stood up to the cavalrymen. Did you know the cavalry chaps?'
'I knew the lieutenant.'
'You stopped them from hurting the lady. And then you took the man and lady away. Did you cart them off to gaol?'
'Of course not. I took them home. The man, he'd had much grief. Did he frighten you?'
Philip shrugged. 'I'm not certain. I watched him come and start beating on Mr. Horne's door. I could tell he was very angry and very unhappy. He started screaming and pulling at his hair. He certainly stirred the crowd, though. I expected them to start breaking windows and charging into the houses, but they didn't.'
He sounded disappointed.
'They hadn't much heart in them,' I said. 'The horsemen easily frightened them off.' I hesitated. 'Do you
