“But can you account for the previous gaps?”
“From before I was born? No, of course not.”
“Someone can,” Theodore said. “Your grandmother, The Countess herself.”
“No, now listen here – that’s simply not on. It wouldn’t be fair. We can’t possibly involve her. Anyway,” Percy went on, with some embarrassment, “She’ll just start talking about the curse and it won’t make any sense, you know?”
“The curse?” Captain Everard asked.
“Hasn’t Lady Agnes told you all about this? Well, well. You would do well to ask her.”
“I certainly shall. Would you care to enlighten us?” Captain Everard clearly didn’t think much of Percy and it was showing in his voice.
“It’s nonsense, utter poppycock. It’s all to do with the collapse of the markets and how we lost money but it’s really not relevant because, as you can see, we’ve improved our fortunes since.”
“How?” said Theodore.
“Excuse me?” Percy’s voice rose.
“How have you improved your fortunes? You certainly haven’t sold any precious minerals. They were never worth anything. So, where has the family fortune come from?”
Percy opened and closed his mouth. Everyone looked at him expectantly.
No one spoke for a short time.
“I – can’t really say.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Can’t! What are you implying, Captain Everard? I can assure you that my family’s business dealings are all entirely legal and correct!”
“I am implying nothing,” Captain Everard said. “I merely wish to ascertain the truth, for your own wife’s sake. For, if what Lord Calaway is saying is correct, these murders could be linked to your own family.”
“Hang on one minute – we were pinning this all on Oscar Brodie a moment ago!” Percy said desperately.
“And we still are,” Theodore said. Certain things had been adding up in his mind as they had been speaking and he had watched Percy carefully. “He is your family. So, we don’t know where the family’s money has come from in recent times; let us assume it is all legitimate, however. Fair enough. But the human mind is naturally predisposed to search for rather more exciting explanations. Take the curse, for example. Money was lost – businesses failed. That’s a normal and rather dull and everyday sort of thing. We humans do crave excitement and what could be more exciting than to attribute it all not to bad management, but to a curse? The womenfolk of this family seem particularly inclined to believe it and perpetuate that.”
“Are you suggesting my grandmother is a superstitious woman?” Percy asked.
“She might be, or she might have other reasons to allow people to believe so.”
“There you go again with this slander...”
“Hush,” said Doctor Netherfield. Percy fell quiet.
“Now, we need to link Brodie to this mystery of the past. What does he know? What has he found out? Did the house steward know something and was Brodie involved? Something has tied them together and I believe that it led to the steward’s death.”
“Hartley Knight was an intensely loyal servant to this family and I do not doubt him in any way. His death was a tragic loss to us.” Percy spoke with utter conviction.
“I have no reason to object to that reasoning,” Theodore said. “It could be that Knight knew of something from the past and that he died protecting that knowledge. Thus piqued, Brodie might have set out to discover more.”
“But why would that lead him to kill my valet?” Percy said. “Or, if you are correct, to think that he was killing me? Why would Brodie want me dead?”
Theodore did not like voicing his next suspicion but it was necessary, though thoroughly distasteful. He said, reluctantly, “You said that Brodie’s manner has changed with you. He is less keen to follow you, less apparently fawning. You have fallen from favour, I am afraid. And that means that you too must be disposed of. There may be more to it, of course. But I feel this is the heart of it.”
It was still too spurious, too light, too disconnected, too much a thing of conjecture and supposition.
But it was all they had.
Each man fell into silent contemplation, and the coffee was drunk, and the bottles of spirits opened, and every possible angle was explored over and over again. Percy had to restrained, time and again, from leaping up and dragging Oscar Brodie into the room to account for his actions. Theodore was prevented, on more than one occasion, from insisting that The Countess be asked to talk to them all.
But it kept them all busy and occupied and distracted from the most awful thing that was happening – that poor Felicia, Lady Buckshaw, was facing investigation as a double murderess and though she’d escape the noose on grounds of insanity, she would never be coming home again.
Unless they could find the truth.
Twenty-three
Theodore had sunk so deeply into his own thoughts he momentarily cried out when he was jerked out of his reverie by Percy’s sudden movement.
“What?” Theodore said in confusion, automatically fearing the worst. Doctor Netherfield and Captain Everard looked equally startled. Percy was heading towards the door.
“I can’t stand this,” Percy blurted out. “You’ve pointed the finger at Oscar Brodie, so let’s haul him up here and talk to him, right now. I can see no reason to delay. Yes, yes, I heard everything you said about not prejudicing the enquiry but right now, there is no enquiry. Let the lad have his say, one way or another. It won’t do any harm. And if you’re right,” he added, pointing at Theodore, “then he’s out to get me and I would really rather know the truth. If my life is in danger at the hands of this young idiot, I want him stopped, and I want him stopped now.”
“No!” they all cried out as one. “Lord Buckshaw – sir – Percy – you must wait.”
But he was wild-eyed and in despair, anyone could see that. He stood by the door, his state of dress in disarray, his shirt open at the neck and half-untucked at the waist. His skin was greyish but there
