unseen at quarter past two, crept in, and stabbed the man to death, being obliging enough to leave my own sword behind, and then return soon after to be confronted by a Runner. Fortunately, I could place myself at the moneylender's in the City during the hour that Inglethorpe met his end.
Disappointed, the coroner questioned me about why I had not returned to Inglethorpe's as soon as I'd realized I'd left the stick behind, and I explained that I'd borrowed another from a friend, since I'd had other engagements. He at last seemed to take my word for it and dismissed me.
Calling the butler back, the coroner asked what had become of the walking stick between the time I'd left it and the time I'd returned for it the next day. The butler, still nervous, said that he'd found no walking stick left behind in the sitting room where Mr. Inglethorpe's guests had gathered; he'd never seen it. Neither had any of the other servants in the house.
The coroner nodded, made a tick on his paper, and moved on to his next note. He questioned the butler about who had been in the house when Inglethorpe died, which had been the servants and no other guests, according to the butler. The coroner then asked about the gathering the day before-one of those attending could have taken the walking stick then returned and killed Inglethorpe, he said.
He asked the gentlemen who'd been present at the gathering, including Mr. Yardley and Mr. Price-Davies, to rise and tell their stories.
Each was similar. The gentlemen had been invited by Inglethorpe to partake of his magical gas in the upstairs drawing room, where'd they'd breathed the air and sat in comfort. Three gentlemen had departed the house before I had. Mr. Yardley said he thought he remembered seeing the walking stick left behind, but he'd not mentioned it to his host. Whyever should he? he demanded when the coroner asked him why not. Inglethorpe had servants to clean up the rooms and restore any lost property. That's what servants were for, wasn't it? Mr. Yardley hadn't thought anything more about it.
Mr. Price-Davies hadn't remembered one way or another about any walking stick. None of the gentlemen claimed to have returned to visit Inglethorpe the next day, and all could put themselves somewhere else, with witnesses, at the time of Inglethorpe's death.
After this, the coroner summoned the two ladies who'd been present from the private room in which they'd been waiting. Lady Breckenridge sat tall and straight before the coroner and told him in clear tones that she had gone to Inglethorpe's on Wednesday, departed his house at about half-past four, hadn't taken Captain Lacey's walking stick, and had not returned to Inglethorpe's the next day. Between two and three on Thursday, when Inglethorpe had died, she'd been at her toilette, attended by three maids who could all attest to that fact.
In her dark blue pelisse and widow's bonnet, Lady Breckenridge looked quiet and respectable and elegant, but her eyes were as sharp as ever. She stared haughtily down her nose at the coroner, and if she'd had a cigarillo to hand, she would have blown smoke into his face.
Mrs. Danbury, however, looked quite unhappy. Sir Gideon Derwent escorted her, I was pleased to see, and he stood beside her while the coroner questioned her.
She told the same story as had Lady Breckenridge; she'd gone to the gathering at Inglethorpe's invitation, partaken of the strange gas, then gone home. No, she did not remember noticing any other gentleman going away with the walking stick. She had gone out yesterday afternoon to shop, though she could not remember precisely where she had been between two and three, but she certainly had not gone to stab Inglethorpe.
The coroner nodded and dismissed her, and Sir Gideon led her away. Mrs. Danbury's face was white, and she leaned heavily on Sir Gideon's arm.
It occurred to me, and I wondered if it had occurred to the jury, that the butler himself had the best opportunity to dispatch his master. He would know when everyone in the house would be safely out of the way, he could divert Inglethorpe to the reception room, and he could have hidden my walking stick beforehand and professed to have no knowledge of it. The butler must have thought so, as well, because his nervousness increased as the inquest went on.
The coroner finished, and the jury went aside to confer. When they returned, they gave their verdict, death by person or persons unknown. The coroner instructed Pomeroy and his patrols to continue investigating to find the culprit. He then closed the inquest and dismissed us.
Lady Breckenridge emerged from the public house behind me as we all filed out. I tipped my hat, and she bowed. 'Good morning, Captain,' she said, without stopping. 'Ghastly hour to be dragged from one's home.'
She continued to her landau. Her footman quickly set a padded step-stool on the ground in front of it, and Lady Breckenridge stepped from it to the carriage without breaking stride. A pair of splendid ankles flashed, and then she was inside, the footman shutting the door.
Sir Gideon led Mrs. Danbury to the Derwent coach, his arm about her shoulders. Mrs. Danbury did not look around or see me watching her.
As Sir Gideon's coach pulled away, Sir Montague spoke at my side. 'A relieving verdict for the coroner, was it not, Lacey? Must have been tricky when he learned that all those Mayfair gentlemen were involved. Gentlemen with influence, upon whom his position depends, perhaps. Presiding over the case of a drowned prostitute or a dead vagrant is so much easier.'
The coroner himself walked by us at this point, his lips thin. Unembarrassed, Sir Montague bowed to him.
'I noted that the coroner did not mention Inglethorpe's clothes,' I said. 'Or lack of them.'
Sir Montague gave me a conspiratorial wink. 'Why complicate things, eh? Most curious, though, is it not? I am interested in those clothes.'
I thought about Inglethorpe lying on his back, feet apart, surprised and alone. Fine pantaloons had encased his legs, and his coat and shirt and waistcoat had been neatly folded on a hair. His shoes… I stopped, frowning.
'What are you thinking, Captain?' Sir Montague's eyes twinkled in the weak winter sunlight.
'He wore pumps,' I said. 'But their soles were muddy.'
'Is that significant?'
'It is if you are a gentleman of his standing. Those shoes were not meant to be worn outside.'
'No?'
'Grenville must have a dozen pairs of slippers he wears only inside his house. Inglethorpe's shoes were to be worn indoors with pantaloons. More to set off his feet than for function. Yet, they had mud on them. As though he'd run out into the street for a few minutes.'
Sir Montague rocked on his heels. 'To meet someone, perhaps?'
'Or he saw something outside the window,' I said. 'It surprised him, and he went out to investigate. Or he went out to bring a person back inside with him.'
'Hmm. And then took off half his clothes. A lover, perhaps?'
'Perhaps.' The explanation did not quite ring true. If a man had a sudden assignation, did he carefully remove his clothing and fold it neatly on a chair? Or were the clothes hastily ripped from the body and dropped on the floor, or not completely removed at all?
'There may be something in what you say,' Sir Montague said. 'By the way, Mr. Thompson told me of your doings in The Glass House the other night.' He chuckled. 'You must have put the wind up them.'
I was not so certain. Kensington did not seem easily frightened; in fact, he'd been a bit overconfident, even when I'd broken the window. 'Kensington is key to the business of The Glass House and Mrs. Chapman's death,' I said. 'I am convinced.'
'Being convinced is not proof,' Sir Montague said. 'I want no holes in this case.'
'I know. The girl I rescued could tell you an earful. I believe Kensington might work for a man called James Denis, although I have not confirmed that. But if you are looking for a man powerful enough to block the magistrates and reformers, it would be Denis.'
Sir Montague nodded. 'I have heard of him, of course. Corruption is rife, unfortunately, and his name crops up when corruption does. I'll question Kensington myself. Don't frighten him too much, yet, Captain. I don't want him slipping away or turning to Mr. Denis for protection.'
'I have also put Sir Gideon Derwent on the scent,' I said. 'The child is staying with him. He is a powerful man, in his own way.'
'Indeed.' Sir Montague gave me another nod and smile. 'You have done well over this. We will close The
