“I don’t know. Tellman’s gone to get help to move the body to the icehouse, then he’s going to see if it was possible that anyone came in from outside, but it isn’t likely.”
“I can’t see Greville letting anyone he didn’t know into the bathroom without raising an alarm,” Jack said grimly. “In fact, what reason would anyone give for interrupting a man in his bath?”
“Well, if I wanted to get in without causing any alarm, I’d dress as a servant,” Pitt thought as he spoke. “Carry a pitcher of hot water or one or two towels.”
“Of course. So it could be anyone.”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Get dressed, then call Cornwallis, then, I imagine, begin an investigation. Where is the telephone?”
“In the library. I’d better go and see Emily.” His face was pinched with anxiety, and there was bitter laughter in his eyes. “God in heaven, I thought yesterday that this house party was as bad as it could be.”
Pitt had no answer, but went back to his bedroom. Charlotte was not there. She must be comforting Kezia still, or perhaps helping Emily. He shaved hurriedly and put on his clothes, then went downstairs to the library and placed a call to London to Assistant Commissioner Cornwallis’s office.
“Pitt?” Cornwallis’s clear, very individual voice sounded worried already.
“Yes sir.” Pitt hesitated only a moment, dreading having to say it. It was such a mark of failure. “I am afraid the worst has happened ….”
There was silence at the far end of the line. Then he heard Cornwallis breathing.
“Greville?”
“Yes sir. In the bath, last night. Didn’t find out until this morning.”
“In the bath!”
“Yes.”
“Accident?” He said it as if he were willing it to be true. “His heart?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“You mean someone caused it? Do you know who?”
“No. At this point it could be almost anyone.”
“I see.” He hesitated. “What have you done so far?”
“Ascertained the medical facts, as far as his son can tell me—”
“Whose son?”
“Greville’s son. He arrived unexpectedly the day before yesterday to tell his parents he is betrothed. She came yesterday.”
“How tragic,” Cornwallis said with feeling. “Poor young man. I assume he is a doctor?”
“Almost qualified. Down from Cambridge. There was really very little to say.”
“Time of death. Cause?”
“Time fixed by the fact he was in the bath. Cause, being struck by a rounded, blunt instrument, probably a jar of bath salts, then held under the water until he drowned.”
“You found him under the water?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
Again there was silence.
“Sir?”
“Yes,” Cornwallis said with resolve. “Take charge of the investigation, Pitt. You have Tellman. If you can, do it without letting the news out for the time being. The Parnell-O’Shea divorce is coming to a climax. If they find against Parnell, it could ruin his career. The Irish Nationalists will be without a leader—until they find a new one. It could very well be one of the men now at Ashworth Hall. What have you told people?”
“Nothing yet, but I shall have to.”
“Where’s Radley?”
“With Emily.”
“Have him telephone me. You can’t proceed with the conference for the moment, out of decency, if nothing else. But neither must we abandon it if there is any way whatever of continuing.”
“Without Greville?” Pitt was startled.
“I’ll speak to the Home Office. Don’t let anyone leave.”
“Of course not.”
