They might not be any use when it came to catching spirits, but I could just imagine Inspector Cox's reaction if he discovered Roberta snooping around Lady Snetton's house in my company, complete with traps and nets and discs inlaid with arcane patterns. And quite aside from the police, there was the horrifying notion of tracking down and capturing a spirit which might already have murdered one perfectly healthy young woman.
What if this demon decided to add Roberta and myself to its tally of victims?
– — Ω — –
At that moment the professor strode into the room, gesticulating with the folded newspaper. "They found his body in the river!" he exclaimed. "Yet another tragedy!"
Roberta and I both spoke as one. "Whose body?"
"That young buffoon you wanted me to employ, my dear. The unsuitable one."
"You cannot mean Jules Hartlow?" cried Roberta.
"Indeed. They say he'd been lost to the river for a day or more."
I shivered as I recalled the applicant in question. Mr Hartlow's interview had occurred immediately prior to my own, and but for the professor having selected me for the position, the unfortunate young man would have been sitting in my position at that very moment. But had he thrown himself into the river in despair? Had I been the ultimate cause of his demise? "Sir, was there foul play?"
"I should say so. His throat was slashed from ear to ear."
There was a lengthy silence as we digested this gruesome news. "At least…" began Roberta.
We turned to look at her.
"At least we can be certain a malevolent spirit did not cause this," she finished. "It sounds like the bloody deed of a human murderer. An argument over debts, perhaps, or a card game gone wrong."
"So you don't believe the police will come knocking once more?" asked the professor.
"I very much doubt it. Think of all the people this young man must have encountered recently. The police have no reason to single us out for questioning."
"Good," said the professor, with feeling. "This mess has already cost me one good bottle of Scotch for the inspector, and—"
"Father!"
"What?" retorted the professor. "I'll have you know it wasn't cheap."
"And if a second applicant is found horribly murdered?" demanded Roberta. "Will you then complain about the price of sausages?"
"They're not cheap either," muttered the professor, with a glance at the empty sideboard. "And I was very much looking forward to those for my lunch."
Chapter 16
As the professor and his daughter wrangled back and forth, I recalled my encounter in the alley the night before, and I felt cold to my very stomach. I still had nightmares of the scar-faced man holding his long, pointed dagger to my throat, and I wondered whether he'd been responsible for the applicant's death. Had he approached Jules Hartlow before the interview in an attempt to inveigle the man into his schemes? And after Hartlow failed to secure the position which I now held, had the scar-faced man cut his throat and tipped him into the river out of pure spite?
"Father," said Roberta suddenly. "Mr Jones and I have decided to investigate the murder of Lady Snetton. Will you join us in our endeavours?"
"Are you quite mad?" demanded the professor, giving her a hard stare. "I have just escorted one lot of police from my house, and now you want them to return in ever-greater numbers?" He shook the newspaper at her, working himself into a fine old temper. "A second person with connections to my household has been found dead, and I cannot believe the pair of you now want to upset the apple-cart by poking your noses where they don't belong!"
"If Lady Snetton died of unnatural means—" began Roberta.
"I don't give two hoots if she was choked by a dozen feral spirits!" shouted the professor. "You will not visit Lady Snetton's residence and you will not trouble the police. I order you to abandon all thoughts of investigations and sleuthing and suchlike. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes father," said Roberta meekly. "I shall do as you ask."
"Then the matter is settled," declared the professor. He turned to me, lowering his voice to a conversational tone. "Mr Jones, I would ask you to attend to your work this afternoon, for I must know the state of my accounts. You will work diligently and without interruption."
"Yes sir."
"If my daughter comes to you with her foolish notions you will report to me immediately. Immediately!"
I glanced at Roberta, hoping to divine her reaction to these orders, but her face was expressionless. So, I turned to the professor and gave him a nod. "I will do as you ask, sir."
"Excellent. And now I must retire to my study, for there is much to do. I believe a breakthrough is imminent, and I can delay no longer."
"Father," began Roberta. "There has not been time to draw up the invoice for Lady Snetton, and I fear we might have missed the post."
A shadow crossed the professor's face at the reminder of the ten pounds he might never lay eyes on. "It's not surprising Mr Jones has yet to attend to the matter, what with the police traipsing all over my house," he said testily.
"I intend to visit a friend in Westminster this afternoon. Her residence is not far from Lady Snetton's, and I could place the invoice into the right hands if you allowed me to."
"I ordered you to steer clear of the Snetton house," snapped the professor.
"But a bill arriving at the household by mail will not be dealt with for weeks, if at all," said Roberta, in a coaxing tone. "It will lay unopened in the butler's pantry, along with many others. However, an invoice hand-delivered, with a word or two of explanation…" Her voice tailed away to silence, leaving the suggestion hanging.
I could see a titanic struggle playing out in the professor's expression. He'd ordered his daughter to stay away from Lady Snetton's, and did not want to seem weak
