“What is the prognosis regarding that damage?” Adelia asked.
“That depends on what we discover the poison to be.”
“Oh, we already know that,” Theodore said. “It has all fallen into place. A continual exposure to very low levels of hydrogen sulphide, sewer gas if you will, is sufficient to cause mental and physical problems. Have we not all smelled it around the place? What we need to discover is the mechanism by which it has been delivered to her room in such quantities to bring about her illness.”
“Then let us get to work,” said Captain Everard decisively. “And quickly. We must find Oscar and draw him to us immediately, but keep him away from our main investigation. I shall do that while Lord Calaway and Doctor Netherfield go to the younger Lady Buckshaw’s rooms. Lady Calaway, perhaps you would be so good as to head into Plymouth to find Lord Buckshaw? You no doubt missed him as you passed. The day is getting old and I worry that he might get himself into more hot-headed trouble. You have a calming way about you.”
“I shall leave immediately.”
They sprang into action and to their allocated tasks.
Twenty-five
Theodore and Doctor Netherfield hurried to Felicia’s rooms in the castle. Theodore strode quickly and the doctor puffed along behind, eventually saying, “You need not punish yourself so harshly, my friend.”
“I am simply worried about the ramifications of any further delay,” Theodore replied, turning a corner.
“No. You are beating yourself up for not having made the connections sooner.”
Theodore stopped and drew in a steadying breath. “Perhaps, yes. I am unforgivably stupid.”
“Do you not forgive your wife? After all, she did not see the answer immediately.”
“Of course I forgive her!”
“Then afford yourself the same kindness. Come now. We know enough to prevent further calamity from occuring, and now it is only a matter of finding sufficient evidence swiftly enough to secure your daughter’s release. And she is somewhere safe, and cared for, and away from further noxious gases. There is much to be thankful for.”
Theodore made a noise that he hoped sounded like agreement, or at least, didn’t brush Doctor Netherfield’s generous intentions off too harshly, and continued on his way to Felicia’s rooms.
The corridors in this part of the castle were wide and old, with grey granite walls and threadbare carpets running along the centre of the floor. Ancient solid furniture in every shade and type of wood gathered in little clumps at intervals along the passageways, and in between the furniture, the walls were hung with a selection of prints and paintings. Some might have been very valuable but others looked like the sort of cheap tat that adorned the walls of public houses and theatre lobbies.
And of course, Theodore thought as they got to the door of Felicia’s main rooms, every ugly cupboard, every heirloom wardrobe, every Tudor trunk and every Elizabethan armoire hides a dozen places where someone might construct some fiendish way of delivering poison into a room.
Doctor Netherfield stood in the centre of the room and closed his eyes. He sniffed the air. “I suspect I have become immune to the smell, as we all must have. But yes, there is a taint in the air.”
“I have long become accustomed to it and can detect nothing. And I suspect that Brodie has constructed some way of regulating the flow of poison to prolong her agony over time, and to make it look as if it is simply an ongoing breakdown of her mind,” Theodore said, fighting the anger that once again threatened to overwhelm him. He began to hunt behind the thick heavy curtains at the window, pressing and tugging at the wainscots and panelling, even getting down on his knees to dig his fingers behind the skirting boards that ran along the bottom edge of the walls.
Parts of the wooden planks were loose and a whole section came away in his hands.
“Good heavens,” Doctor Netherfield said as he came over to inspect the damage. “A pipe!”
They followed the exposed lead pipe along the bottom of the wall where it was tucked behind the wooden planking. It snaked into a closet. Theodore wrenched it open and did not hesitate before pulling out the folded garments and clothing that filled the bottom half. They found the pipe went through the back of the closet and into the wall behind the wood.
“There is another room beyond,” Theodore said. Doctor Netherfield was already heading for the door.
In the adjoining room, which was a general store room of clothing that was out of season and put aside in cedar trunks for when it was later needed, they found the pipe once more, this time hidden behind a wooden bench that had been built into the wall itself. On it went, the joins between the pipes clumsy and ill-worked.
“This stuff would be leaking out all over the place!” Theodore said as they traced the pipe finally to a half-hidden and windowless room at the far end of the corridor near the servants’ stairs. The room stank of rotten eggs but it was next to a window on the corridor which opened out over the weed-clogged moat below. No one would have remarked upon that particular stench lingering in that part of the castle.
“We must touch nothing,” the doctor warned. “But this is compelling evidence, don’t you think?”
“I do indeed,” Theodore replied grimly. But would it be enough to save his daughter?
WHEN ADELIA REACHED Plymouth once more, she found Percy deep in conversation with Commissioner Rhodes. Wine and brandy had been flowing, and food was scattered around on tables in an informal way. The men looked almost embarrassed to have been caught picnicking in the house, but their alcohol intake prevented them from apologising too much. Instead, Adelia was invited to join them.
She realised she was hungry, and after
